A rainy Sunday afternoon in Los Angeles …
Ncuti took a seat in the middle of the sofa, grinning hard into the simplicity of the tripod and camera opposite, only a glass coffee table between he and the unknown.
He immediately slouched into a relax, folding his arms across the broadness of his chest as the stranger known only as ‘Peter’ started the introductory interview.
“Hello,” Peter spoke casually, as if he had known Ncuti for a long time whilst hardly knowing him at all.
“Hello …” Ncuti could not help but sound flirtatious, his purr-like Scottish accent arriving as a stark contrast to Peter’s crisp American.
“What’s your name?” Peter asked, taking a seat on a small wooden chair behind the tripod, already fully aware of the answer to his question.
Ncuti realised how hard he was smiling - at first he thought to tame the expression but he enjoyed how excited he felt, so he kept it on display, “My name is Ncuti,” he declared proudly.
“And how old are you?” Peter sipped from his cup of herbal tea.
Ncuti adjusted the left band of his vest.
“I’m er,” he winced, struggling to remember, “A fabulous thirty two,” he chuckled.
Peter nodded, “Alright. My audience wanted me to ask you a few things; what’s your zodiac sign?”
Ncuti pursed his lips, “I’m a Libra.”
“Your sexual orientation?” Peter held his tea below his chin, the living room utterly silent besides the movement between he and his subject.
Ncuti crossed his legs at the knee and picked at some stray cotton poking out of his cargo pants, “Oh, gay …” he sounded so confident, “… One hundred percent—”, so glad with himself, “—gay!—”
Peter admired Ncuti’s fulfillment, “Lovely. What’s your height, weight and shoe size?”
Once again, Ncuti delivered his stats unapologetically, “I’m 5’8, aaaaaaaaround 65 kay gee, and,” he glanced at his trainer clad, tightly laced feet, “Size eleven.”
Peter went from admired to impressed as he placed his too hot to drink tea at the kitchen side.
“And were you aware of this thing, that we’re doing today? Knislomagnia?”
Without meaning to do so, Ncuti presented himself as a little shy - he blushed and rolled his shoulders, placing his palms together as he shook his head.
“No,” he said, his tone saturated in interest, “I can’t say that I have ...”
A gentle pause filled the living room as Peter swallowed down some excitement of his own.
“Okay, that’s fine, now, let’s uh, let’s see this body you seem so proud of,” Peter tucked his hands into the pockets of his chinos.
Ncuti lifted himself from the sofa with just the right amount of speed - not too eager, not too reluctant - a cleverly delivered, “Do I take this off?—”, and a pinch to the hem of his vest working as a way to appear naive.
Peter adjusted the tripod so that the lens of the camera angled at a slant and nodded at Ncuti, “Please,” capturing the Doctor Who actor as he held onto the bottom of his vest and peeled it up and over his head, revealing a muscular, lean torso with shimmering abs, a broad chest and narrow hips, “Ah, my audience will thank me for this,” Peter smirked, “Now for your pants.”
Ncuti untied the drawstring of his cargo pants and then tried to shuffle them away from his waist, revealing the waistband of his underwear, but before he could go any further he noted, “I may have to take my shoes off first.”
Peter, experienced in domination and beyond well practised, felt surprised by the words that came out of his own mouth.
“Let me.”
Ncuti turned to jelly, his form drooping into a perplexed state of admiration, “Sure …” he sat back down on the edge of the sofa, shirtless and exposed, tucked his hands behind his hand and propped both feet onto the surface of the coffee table where he then folded his legs at the ankle.
Peter knelt down calmly beside Ncuti’s feet and began to unlace his work out trainers.
No words were said - there did not need to be sound or conversation, the verbal meaning behind this current act took place by how quickly Peter unlaced Ncuti’s trainers, how firmly he removed each shoe, how Ncuti’s exhilaration grew behind his cargos into a thick shape and overwhelming size Ncuti felt keen to hide …
Peter then began to massage Ncuti’s left socked foot, his fingertips assertive and present, their tips rubbing Ncuti’s toes and the pads of his sole, so much so that before Peter could ask himself, Ncuti was telling him …
“You can smell them,” Ncuti’s hands remained behind his head, the depths of his armpits on full show, “If you want …”
Peter shot an inquisitive eye down to Ncuti’s feet, “I might have to take your socks off first …”
Ncuti lifted his shoulders into a nonchalant shrug, “You’re the man in charge …”
Peter wasted no time in revelling in that status; carefully, he peeled Ncuti’s socks away from his feet, revealing an exceptionally smooth and perfect shape unmarked by all the running around on set - such a sight begged Peter to enquire, “Do you get pedicures often?”
Nucit shook his head, his ten toes naturally flexing into a normal squirm as they were greeted by air con, “I can’t,” is all he could say.
Peter continued to rub Ncuti’s now bare right sole, whilst leaning in for a sniff - he so very much wanted to widen his eyes once the scent had wafted up his nostrils but he forced them shut, he did not want to appear too attracted or too blown away by the superbness that was the clean, moist smell that wafted from Ncuti’s feet.
Peter breathed in quickly and opened his eyes, breaking himself out of his daze; he placed Ncuti’s feet side by side on the coffee table and then returned to tripod, allowing Ncuti the chance to ‘readjust himself’ in the background.
“They’re … Perfect, if I’m frank,” Peter zoomed the camera into the soft pink of Ncuti’s soles, “Before we started filming, you said they were very ticklish, yes?”
Ncuti’s grin had never left, but now it stretched wider, his charm proceeding in its increase as he responded with only one word, “Yes …—,” he stifled a giggle as he curled and scrunched his long toes, his big feet, flawless in shape and size, now on full display for the individuals that would eventually masturbate over this content.
“That’s great,” Peter pulled the focus away, “You can take your pants off now.”
Ncuti hesitated only for a moment, mostly because his girth had now subsided since his feet were briefly worshipped - still, time was of the essence - he slid his feet from the coffee table and then stood once again, gingerly removing his cargo pants down to his ankles, where he casually stepped out of them - his tight black briefs were now on show, hardly containing the chunk of intimacy that made up his thick, lengthy cock and large, oversized balls.
“Wow, look at those legs!” Peter gawped, helping Ncuti out with his comfort, taking the focus away from his semi erection towards the bulge of each leg, “Do you exercise?”
Ncuti kicked away his cargo pants, “I uh, I do,” Ncuti did not need Peter to draw away focus from something he was proud to show off, but he was keen to keep his dom comfortable, “Maybe three times a week?”
“Outstanding,” Peter gulped, “Turn around for us, show us your backside.”
Ncuti bit his lower lip, happily overwhelmed by the directness of the directives, turning around as asked so that his back faced Peter and the camera - with every step, the generous weight of each of his ass cheeks wobbled as Peter asked him to ‘keep on turning’, allowing Ncuti to showcase the shape of his ass, the curve of his spine, the plumpness of his derriere as well as the growing size of his bulge …
“Fantastic,” Peter took hold of the tripod stand and lifted it up, “So, what do you think? Are you ready for a laugh?”
Ncuti had been prepared since he stepped foot inside the apartment, “I’m always ready for a laugh,” he said.
Ncuti, still in just his underwear, was led by Peter out of the living room and into a spare room down the hall.
The room was small, the size of a single person’s bedroom; the walls were white, the floor carpeted grey, the decor purposefully simplistic to allow the bondage device and gym bag positioned in the middle to stand out.
That bondage device was ‘The Tickle Chair’, a hand built structure that had contained hundreds if not thousands of young men, famous or not famous, in its various forms in the many different House of White Feathers locations around the world.
“The set up is the same every time, the task no different, but the suffering is always unique …” Peter placed a hand over the leather padding that made up the tickle chairs seat, “… This is where you’ll lose your mind.”
Ncuti’s mouth fell open as his eyes observed the details of the device, the sturdiness of the stocks, the quality of the wood - it’s height! - Ncuti had to practically climb onto it, before sliding his legs and feet down the recliner, “It’s beautiful,” Ncuti was genuine in his statement, “Like a work of art.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Peter opened up the stocks, allowing Ncuti to slide his bare feet through the holes, where the stocks were then closed and locked over his ankles, “Since you’ll be going through such a rough time, it’s key that you’re snug …”
Ncuti allowed Peter to strap leather belts around his knees, where he then began to restrain his arms above his head with more leather bindings, “I appreciate that!” Ncuti’s breath shuddered as he spoke, the thrill of his circumstance vibrating beneath the ebony of his skin - was he really going to do this?
“These things stop you from flying away,” Peter mistook the shudder for worry, reassuring Ncuti that he was only being tied so forcefully to keep him in place.
Ncuti now sat stocked, arms apart, seated calmly, wrists pinned above his head - he looked from left to right as Peter positioned the tripod and camera around a foot away from Ncuti’s soles.
“Okay, let’s begin,” Peter ensured the recording was active where he then made his way behind the tickle chairs slant, so that he could comfortably reach around it and explore the depths of Ncuti’s underarms.
“No more small talk?” Ncuti’s elbows twitched, “Alright, let’s do this …”
Ncuti’s eyelashes fluttered shut as Peter’s fingertips began to stroke across the hairless and neatly shaved expanse of each armpit - his elbows twitched for a second time, their sharpness now budging inward, his blinding grin continuing to present itself as a regular feature across his handsome face - it tickled, but he could politely handle it - evidently shown by his ability to remain rather still, to not feel the urge to leap, twist or jump …
Ncuti grunted slightly when Peter increased pressure - the stroke became a scribble, the sensation within each underarm felt more intense, his elbows no longer wanted to twitch, they wanted to clap together but they could not.
After a few seconds of silence, Peter took his exploration down towards Ncuti’s sides, where his scribble became a pinch, poke and prod along Ncuti’s structured ribs and narrow waist, pushing Ncuti into a gentle shift to the left.
“Mnn! What’s in the bag?—”, he pressed his lips together, surprised by the uncontrollable need to squirm, whilst suddenly getting used to the touch in a way that allowed him to contain his laughter, to cope with the focus on his torso.
Peter wanted to feel satisfied, he wanted to know that spending thousands of dollars on this kid would be worth it, and so far he had not seen the levels of ticklish-ness he had expected from the Rwanda born celebrity, “Oh, you’ll soon find out …”
Grabbing at Ncuti’s thick thighs did not work, nor did groping his kneecaps - his calves were not that ticklish and neither was his stomach … Even a wet finger into his navel provided only grimace, a move Peter often found could produce high pitched squeals from others once bound within this very chair.
Ncuti trailed his tongue over his top row of teeth, his cocky exterior so far successful in not being obliterated by this so called ‘suffering’.
Peter huffed.
Out of options, he now had no choice but to arrive at Ncuti’s feet, a place the young thespian had at least verbally explained were ‘very ticklish indeed’.
All Peter had to do was step closer to the stocks, for Ncuti’s size eleven’s to suddenly twist inward, a “—No!—”, leaving his mouth in the form of a whine.
“Oooh …” Peter’s enthusiasm returned.
Ncuti shook his head, a vibrant cackle leaving his open mouth, “Na uh,” his feet continued to fiercely flap and adamantly stretch, his cackle transforming into an excited giggle, “Na uh, please …” he sounded determined yet concerned, serious yet crumbling, entertained but bewildered, “No, no, please …” his toes splayed and scrunched - had he switched from confident to panicked so quickly?
Peter hovered his wiggling fingers over Ncuti’s now wrinkled soles, playfully levitating them above his feet.
“What are you going to do, mn?” Peter teased, actioning a quick scribble over both of Ncuti’s feet, a scribble that lasted maybe a second or two, “You can’t stop me…”
Ncuti’s face exploded into an expression of astonished shock as he clenched his teeth, his feet jolting beneath the touch, “—Mn, STOP!—”, his shout filled the room.
Peter continued to toy with Ncuti, petting his soles momentarily before stopping, only to do it again straight after - Ncuti’s thick thighs bulged as he thrashed his legs into the stocks, raising his eyebrows in alarm, his feet never staying still.
“Be, be careful!—”, Ncuti warned, “—Watch it!—”, Ncuti could not stop laughing.
Ignoring Ncuti’s warning, Peter went in hard and tickled Ncuti’s feet in a way they had never been tickled before - he did not hold back, scribbling, scratching and stroking across his buttery smooth soles, soles Ncuti had more or less explained in his previous interview were ‘too ticklish to even stand a simple pedicure …
Ncuti’s laughter evolved in the form of a thunderous roar - he looked distressed, thrilled, confused - the leather around his wrists and knees squeaked as his muscular shape folded into itself, his skin already glowing beneath the studio light - his feet squirmed fast, always trying to desperately escape Peter’s ruthless infliction, but Peter never lost track of Ncuti’s soles and was always able to keep them beneath his fingernails, to the point where Ncuti had laughed so hard, so quickly, that his expel had been reduced to breathless giggling.
Peter paused, only to start tying the toes of Ncuti’s right foot through individual loops of string nailed to the top of the stocks.
Still giggling, Ncuti pressed his foot forwards as soon as two or three of his toes had been looped back - his feet were fiercely strong, so he was always able to pull his toes free, causing Peter to join in on the laughter.
“Aw, seriously, come on!” Now Peter was the one pleading, as he tried to position Ncuti’s toes through the string once more - much to Peter’s entertained irritance, Ncuti pulled his foot free, showing Peter that there would be no success in pinning his toes back.
Ncuti chortled and sniggered, happy with his rebellious act, however such a naughty move only made punishment more likely, where Ncuti unintentionally offered his soles up to Peter’s frustrated vengeance.
The scribbles returned, this time harder, faster, wilder, covering his feet from toe to heel, causing Ncuti to erupt into more thunderous, loud, shout-like giggles where his entire body leapt away from the tickle chair, kept in place only thanks to the leather strapped around his legs and wrists.
“—Grah! Hahahah! Hahahah! No, stop! Ahahaha, no, please! Ahahaha, ahahahah! Wait, hang on, oh lord! Mercy, mercy, mercy!—”
Peter caught a glimpse of Ncuti’s complexed mindset just by seeing the boil in his eyes - he looked a little startled, a little unsure how to proceed - maybe he was having second thoughts? Maybe Peter didn’t give a shit …
Peter’s lack of consideration to Ncuti’s dubiety presented itself in the form of his next act - he jumped his fingers away from Ncuti’s sensitive soles and then knelt beside the gym bag, picking out his next set of tools, tools that were far more sinister than fingernails.
Ncuti shuffled forwards, “No, no, please—”, all he did was beg, “—What are those!—”, he glared at the items in Peters hands, “—They look nasty!—”
Peter held onto two electric pincers - they were plastic in mould, narrow in shape, their pincer ends sharp and now vibrating - the idea of those landing against the bottoms of his feet filled Ncuti with a blend of dread and anticipation - he began to jump and writhe, cackling in disbelief, the pincers barely touching him yet …
“They’re my new favourite toy,” Peter declared, “And they’ll soon become your worst enemy …” he began to aim the pincers towards Ncuti’s soles.
“No, don’t do that, please!—”, Ncuti curled his fists into balls, his feet twisting and curling within the stocks, his legs kicking hard, “—Get them away, get them away!—”, Ncuti’s energetic personality displayed itself in a physical vibrancy; his skin shimmered, his eyes widened, his strength presented itself within his feet and ankles as they stretched and flexed away from pincers hovering too close to the bottoms of his heels - how had he gone from sitting on the couch with his flirt dialled up to ten, and now he sat restrained here, begging, unable to see straight?
As soon as the pincers made impact, Ncuti was introduced to the real meaning of ‘tickle torment’ - unable to move or escape, he could only endure the hyper sensitive intrusion across the ticklishness of his feet - each pincer felt sharp and unbearable, the feeling produced a dire anguish within the middle of Ncuti’s face as he began to scream, blown away by how unbearably brilliant the pincers could make him feel, so much so that he had no choice whatsoever to produce that brilliance in the form of shrieks, squeals and non stop, uncontrollable cackles.
“—Grahaaaahhhahahahah! Hahahahahahah! Sss, ssstop! Hahahahah, Grraaaaaghhahahaha! Graaaaaaaaagh! Graaahahahahahah! Sss, stop! Graaahahahahah, hahahahahah, ahahahahahaha, no, no! Ahahahaha, Graaaahahahahaha!—”
Peter admired Ncuti’s feet as they took on a life of their own, each size eleven fighting for the right to survive in a frantic writhe beneath the pincers, as the pincers ever so delicately made their way up and down Ncuti’s soles, creating lines with every drag, “It appears all of your ticklishness has been contained within both of your feet,” Peter noted, “I guess we’ll be focusing on them from now on,” he teased, the tickle chair now creaking with every bounce, leap and jump produced by Ncut’s now sweaty, overwhelmed body.
“—Oh, oh, you cheeky bitch!—”, Ncuti’s beaming expression catapulted forwards as he hurtled his torso towards Peter, “—You’re a cheeky little bitch, Peter, you know that!—”, he whined, “—Please, stop, I’ll do anything, anything!—”, he had broken so soon, unable to take the dedicated focus towards his ultra ticklish soles, “—Not the toes, no more, no more!—”, he begged, the pincers now whizzing between the long, curling lengths of his toes, his tongue trailing over his upper lip as he tried to gather his thoughts, a challenge in itself when producing such lengthy, breathless cackles, “—I’ll do anything!—”, he repeated, almost too urgently.
Peter allowed Ncuti’s desperation to feel ignored - he wanted the young ticklee to acknowledge a sense of loss, an inability to achieve getting his way - so he continued, for ten whole minutes, using the pincers of Ncuti’s toes and soles non stop, which only caused Ncuti to scream and yelp, roar and growl, giggle so hard his already defined abs had began to throb - he was a laugher in any ordinary situation, always cackling and clapping, giggling mischievously on the red carpet or during interviews on talk shows, yet here he now was laughing in a way he had never laughed before, a kind of laughter that sounded grainy and dry, upset and ecstatic, an energy unlike anything he had ever felt in his life.
When Peter saw Ncuti’s eyes fill with tears produced by the hysterics, when he had been called a bitch for a sixth time, Peter switched off the pincers and allowed Ncuti to sigh out his relief whilst slumping into the tickle chair, his sweaty form squeaking against the leather as he did so.
“You’ll do anything?” Peter cocked an eyebrow.
Ncuti nodded frantically, his toes stretching out the vibration still present between them.
Peter gestured to a door in the corner of the room.
“Take a five minute break. Do the rest of the session in a new position … A position where I can absolutely devour you …”
Ncuti’s wide eyes narrowed.
He shuffled up the seat and then glared at Peter flirtatiously, one extra nod granting Peter the chance of a lifetime.
In the shortness of time that it took someone as fit and healthy as Ncuti to catch his breath, the young thespian felt more than grateful to see his limbs unbound and a cold, crisp glass of iced cola making its way towards his now pouting lips.
He glugged the coolness of the fizzy liquid down, chewed on the ice like they were sweets and politely hid some burps with the back of his hand as he made casual small talk with Peter in regards to how intense it had felt, “This is a game changer!—“, how happy he was for more, “Do your worst, I can take it!—“, and then he was suddenly desperate to pee, excusing himself politely where he tip toed to the nearby bathroom and released the boil in his stomach.
It was during this moment that Ncuti realised how thick his cock had swelled - being tickled by a handsome, older man was torture to say the least, but the attention he received, the size it made his head grow, the fact that this stranger lusted over his sensitivity aroused Ncuti in ways he could not quite describe …
Back in the next studio, a studio decorated in a similar way to the studio before, more wooden stocks, a flat board and leather bondage lay sprawled out over the surface of an ordinary bed - as Ncuti stood there with his hands on his hips, he widened his jaw and then shot a testing look at Peter.
“Laid down?” He nudged Peter’s arms with his knuckles, his Scottish twang now more present than ever, “You kinky so and so!”
Peter remained confident, Ncuti’s nudge only causing him to step back by one step, “Oh, you’ll be on your front,” Peter looked at Ncuti’s behind like a tiger eyes its prey, “So that ass is on show …”
Ncuti cackled and walked around Peter, his round and juicy butt barely contained within the underwear he wore.
Suddenly, his expression dropped from entertained to serious as he folded his arms firmly and tilted his head, arriving inches opposite his tickler.
“An extra five thousand and I’ll do it,” he declared bluntly.
Peter scoffed into his fist, “You were just screaming, no, begging to do something different. This is the different I’m offering, this is your salvation, your solution …”
Peter unlocked the stocks strapped firmly to the bottom of the bed, “Either lay down for the same agreed price, or, you go back in the chair …” he could feel Ncuti’s gaze travel towards the new set up, “… It’s that, or we cancel the entire session and you leave empty handed.”
Ncuti sighed like a frustrated young boy declined his favourite bar of chocolate; in a defeated yet theatric huff, he strolled towards the bed and aimed a stern index finger at Peter.
“That money better be in my account right away, sir …” Ncuti kept his point direct, his bright white eyes glaring at Peter flirtatiously, as he laid down on his front with his ankles in the stocks, his hands by his side, his wrists laid out over open leather restraints.
As Peter began to tie him into position, he couldn’t help but ask.
“It’s interesting,” he staged, “You’re Doctor Who … The best thing thing about Sex Education …” he strapped Ncuti’s wrists at his waist, the restraints connected to a leather board Ncuti lay on, and then he closed the stocks, “… How comes you’re so …” he struggled to find the words as he locked the stocks latch, securing Ncuti’s ankles with his soles facing up …
“Skint?” Ncuti chuckled as he finished Peter’s sentence for him.
Peter admired Ncuti in his ass up position, only a pillow beneath his head providing him any sense of comfort, his peachy behind and deep delve of his spine on full show, as well as two insanely sensitive, gorgeous looking feet.
“You said it, not me,” Peter readjusted the tripod and camera, his thumb tapping the record button.
Beep …
Ncuti rested his head on the pillow, the feeling of utter helplessness taking hold of him as his most ticklish body part faced into nothing but air.
“What can I say? I’m a lover for fast things, pretty things, I spend my money quick,” he cackled again, his laugh always filled with volume and genuine glee, “This is quick cash, when you emailed my agent I said yes right away,” Ncuti tried to look over his shoulder - in this new position, almost every inch of him became extra ticklish, “It’s either a few days on set for a photoshoot, for the same cash, or I get the dollar nice and speedy …”
“Well, the money has been wired to you as of now,” Peter knew he would abuse this situation, he would go over the time, after all this would be the first and last time he would ever see The Doctor Who actor, Ncuti’s agent made it clear this was a one off agreement - what did he have to lose?
With his broad, long back and round, perky ass facing his tickler, Ncuti still felt unable to see where Peter was, therefore disabling his ability to figure out what Peter might do next, what he might use next, where he might go next …
“Th, thank you …” he mumbled nervously.
This heightened sense of insane insecurity and volatile vulnerability made Ncuti feel all the more sensitive, so when Peter went to continue the session by grabbing at his waist in the same way he had during Ncuti’s time in the tickle chair, Ncuti could do nothing but arch his back, leap up from the mattress and heave out his distress in a sharp huff, “Ah!”
“Happy?” Peter asked, “Being that tiny bit wealthier?”
Ncuti contained a scream at the back of a throat now swelling, “Yes! Yes, thank you …” he repeated as he dropped his torso back over the bed in a bounce as soon as he felt Peter’s palm arrive at his left ass cheek.
“You have an astonishing butt,” Peter could not help himself, “Here, let me transform these pants into more of a thong …” he then twisted the back of Ncuti’s underwear and pulled it between Ncuti’s cheeks, gently yet assertively, enough to show off each plump shape and its constant, generous wiggle.
“Mnn, something tells me you’re a top, Peter …” Ncuti’s behind felt so open, so bare, his heartbeat itself causing his ass cheeks to vibrate, “… An ass man? You like the cake? I’ve got heaps of it …”
Peter smirked, “You could say that …” he then gently use his palm to pat Ncuti’s left ass cheek, mostly to test its weight and shape, “… I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen an ass as incredible as yours in, god, years … Born this way, or was it developed at the gym too?”
Ncuti’s eyelashes fluttered shut as his behind received some much adored attention, “A bit of both, you know us black guys, it’s kinda in our DNA,” he purred, arching his back just a little bit more for Peter to squeeze his behind, to pat it again and then fondle it just a little harder, “You like my bum don’t you? That’s why you’ve got me this way? I can tell …”
Peter acknowledged the fill of Ncuti’s balls, as well as the steady growth of his erection, which now sat squashed beneath his weight and the board, all tangled up in the thong-like shape of his underwear, “I think you like the attention as much as I like your ass,” he stroked Ncuti’s hard on quickly, the touch leaving the shaft as soon as it had arrived.
Ncuti chuckled, his cheeks spanked once again, this time with a harder pat, “Mnn! You’re a charmer,” were the only words he could think of saying, before Peter swapped the patting for scratching and began to use his fingernails over both of Ncuti’s ass cheeks, “Ooh, oh boy, okay—“ Ncuti automatically tried to use his hands to protect his buttocks but his wrists were tied too tightly to the board, they were practically unable to move away from his waist, “—Okay stop, that tickles—“, his stomach smacked against the board with such a thud that his ass cheeks spread into a single clap.
Peter whispered a stern, “No,” where he then began to stroke Ncuti’s butt, spreading his cheeks playfully whilst tickling the bottom of his spine and the softness of his taint, transforming a relaxed, kind, Scottish actor into a strained, panting and squirming beast that had no choice but to expel his hysteria.
“Okay, alright, I had no idea my arse was—“, he bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut, “—That’s insane—,” he declared confidently, unable to handle how sensitive his ass felt, “Oh, oh no! No, noahaha! Ahaha, oh, oh my god!—“, he thrusted and pushed, twisted and bounced, his ass cheeks clapping once again, now all the time, as he struggled to escape Peter’s touch.
Suddenly, Peter’s fingernails were replaced with the affection of his fingertips; the infliction of tickling subsided and a affectionate massage took place instead.
“You’re going to kill me!” Ncuti chuckled, his butt now receiving more squeezes and playful pats as Peter became merciful, “I had no idea my arse was so —“ Ncuti’s eyes widened as he felt Peter’s fingertips lift away, “—Wait, I, I can’t see you!—“, he hissed, always twisting and turning his head from left to right as Peter knelt down and uncapped a bottle of massage oil from the gym bag, dripping the oozy clear contents over Ncuti’s clenched soles, “Oh lord, here we go—”, Ncuti’s feet wriggled in the stocks, the tops of his feet now facing the surface of the bed, his toes rubbing against the sheets, “—You, you said you’d stop with the feet! Mercy, mercy! They’ve been through enough, wouldn’t you say, Peter? Peter!—”, simply massaging the lotion into Ncuti’s soles transformed him into a cackling mess, tears returning at the rims of his eyes, his bright white grin wide and clenched - could he really handle this? Couldn’t the tickle torment go back to his behind?
“I don’t remember agreeing to stopping with anything …” Peter capped the lotion and then picked up two hairbrushes from his gym bag, “… Now, take a deep breath, feet as ticklish as yours are going to hate this …”
Ncuti flung his head over his shoulder, trying his hardest to catch a glimpse of what Peter held in his hands, but Peter placed the tools behind his back, concealing them for now, “… What, what are you doing! What next? Oh, oh no, come on!—”, Ncuti’s face crumpled into an expression saturated with angst, “—Ah man, ah man, na uh, nah uh, no way, no way, no way! Aaaaaaah man!—”
“Can you guess?” Peter teased, taking one of the brushes towards Ncuti’s left sole, where he carefully and ever so gently allowed the plastic bristles to barely scrape over his all too smooth heel, “Can you tell what it is?”
Ncuti clenched his teeth and blinked into the pillow, his back arching once again, the bottom of his spine curving deep, only furthermore expanding the shape and size of his juicy buttocks, “—Oh god, oh my god? You’re not serious! Is, is that a hairbrush?—”, Ncuti’s voice was filled with astonished panic, almost insulted by the potential horror that may face him within the next few seconds, “—You dare! You dare, I’ll bloody kill you! No, no, no! I mean it, break, break, break!—”
Ncuti’s feet splayed and curled, they refused to stay still, Ncuti’s long legs bulging and stretching, his ass cheeks always clapping, each pert plump barely contained within the black underwear Peter had decided to wedge upwards into a thong, “—Grah! Grahahah! Ahh, ahhh! Ahhh! Grahahaha! Ahh! Ahh! Grahahaha!—”
Ncuti’s entire body began to thrash as the hairbrush rubbed faintly against his left foot, driving him absolutely insane as his mind was forced to handle a sensation it had never handled before, “—PLEAAASE, NO! NOOOO! NOOOO? NOOO! STOP! STOAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAP! STOAAAAHAHAHAHAP! AHAHAHAHAH, OH! OH PLEASE, NOOOAHHAHAHAHA! PETER, PETER! PETER? NO!—”
Ncuti screamed the loudest he had screamed so far, the screams sounding like determined shouts, shouts that soon were swapped for high pitched squeals as soon as Peter began to use a second brush, this time on Ncuti’s right foot, “—AAAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAAH! OOOOH! PETER, NO! OOOOH! PETER, NO! OOOOOH!—”
Ncuti whined and moaned, he blabbered and spluttered, he coughed, wheezed, cackled and burst into tears, the hysterics flooding from his eyes, trickling past boiling cheeks and across a manic grin, “—AAAAHHH! AAAAAHHH! NOAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAH! NOOOO! NOOOO! OH, OHHH, OOOOH! NOOOO! I’M, I’M CRYING! I CAN’T! I CAN’T!—”
He was distressed, invaded, blown away, his soles too ticklish to take the brush, his ass shaking and wobbling with every kick of his legs.
“Okay, alright,” Peter had never seen feet move quite like it, “Chill, you’re panicking …”
Ncuti lay heaving for hair, breathless and flabbergasted, his eyebrows burrowing into a deep frown as Peter gave him a small break by placing the brushes beside the stocks, “I’m, I’m sorry, it’s just so ticklish an, and, wait, oi, stop!—“, Peter now using his fingertips instead to dance and flutter up Ncuti’s calves where they began to scribble and stroke up his thighs, back towards his bare buttocks.
Ncuti giggled and bounced his hips in a rampant smack against the board, “The, the brushes were too much, it’s, it’s all a bit too much, I, I didn’t like that!—“, his ass cheeks clapping, his tiny tight butt hole exposed only momentarily during the strength of his squirming, “Mnn, yeah, alright, okay back to the butt,” Peter petted Ncuti’s ass and waist, taking his toying fingers up Ncuti’s now damp back, towards his underarms, “No, oi, get out of there!”— Ncuti clamped his arms against his sides and squealed, denying Peter access to an area that was not that ticklish twenty five minutes ago, an area Ncuti now could not bare having explored …
Peter did not give up - instead, he chose to make the most of the short allowance of time he had paid for - he went back to using his pincers, switching them on, returning his focus to Ncuti’s exceptionally smooth behind, a behind containing a long shining back, attractive shoulder blades, an exceptionally plump set of ass cheeks and two always moving, always twisting thighs …
Btzzzzzzzzz!
“Oh, not those things again, no, please!—“, Ncuti’s face dried with emotion as he felt the pincers arrive over both of his butt cheeks, “—Argh, Peter, my arse!—“, their sharp buzz and constant drag across sensitive flesh causing Ncuti to scream and squeal, “—Ohhh! Hahahahaha! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Ahh!—“, his torso always bucking and bouncing over the bed as his ass was explored and devoured, its large shape and size completely victim to the tools Peter worked around his taint, the bottom of his spine, their invasion always leaping over the tight black cotton concealing his asshole, “—Stop, please, you’re such a bitch, Jeeeeeeesus!—“
Ncuti used his hands to try and batt Peter away, “Mmnnn, mnn, come on, man!—“, but the wrist restraints stopped him from being successful in such an act - before he knew it, the pincers were over the insides of his thighs, “—NO!—“, a feeling that made Ncuti shout out his laughter as if it were the last thing he could do, “—Gragh hahahah, ahahahaha, ahahahaha! Ahahahah, AHAH! AHAHAHA! AHAHAHAA!—“, it all felt too much, until he felt the pincers travel over his calves and back towards the bottoms of his feet, their vibrating attack landing over both soles at once, “—NO, NO, NO!—“
Ncuti became a messy shambles within seconds, his muscular strength and high arching back constantly thrashing over the bed and the board, his highly sensitive feet trapped in the stocks, his hands tied beside him, his eyes always bulging, never closing, their white oval size mighty and defiant, the perfect example of perplexed, “—AAAAAHAHHHHAHAAAAAAHHHHAAAAAHAHAH NO ST, STOP, AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA, AHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA, STOP, ALRIGHT, AAAAAHHHAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, STOP! PETER STOP! AHAHAHAHA, STOP, PETER, PETER! PETER? OH! AHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAA!—“
Ncuti had never had his feet tickled like this, his soft, untouched soles never touched this way before, his mind just couldn’t handle it, his being unable to cope - he tried to shout over his shoulder, “—THIS IS, NOPE THIS IS WILD!—“, but his pleas landed on deaf ears, so he tried to shout over the other shoulder, “—STOP, LEAVE THEM ALONE!—“, but his Scottish cries went ignored, as Peter ran the pincers up and down his silky soft soles, from heel to toe, toe to heel, heel to toe …
Ncuti became overwhelmed with hysterics, his face creased in a mixture of glee and despair, “—OH GOAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAD!—“, his non stop and uncontrollable laughter filled the studio, all because of two pincers across each sole, “—YOU’RE PUSHING IT, YOU’RE PUSHING YOU’RE LUCK!—“, his cackling was so strong, so persistent, so other worldly that he became incapable of producing the right words to beg - Peter had simply disabled him, rendering him into vessel of senseless noise that only had one language: the language of tickle torment.
Once Peter had acknowledged that, which he did almost straight away, he took Ncuti just that extra step further - when the average tickler would have stopped to allow their lee a chance to catch their breath of wipe the tears from their eyes, Peter continued, “—STOAAAAAHHAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAP!—“, so, when Ncuti expected a break and did not receive one, his madness only increased, his structure, shape and size now erupting into constant twists, turns and thrashes across the board, which bounced over bed sheets and knocked pillows across the floor, “—GRAAAHHHH AHAHAHAHAHAHAH GRAAAAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA GRAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAH GRAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!—“
Now was Peter’s time to use what he had seen and to make it work to his advantage; as he placed both pincers around both of Ncuti’s flexing, curling big toes, Peter delivered his proposal across the crying, the screaming, the cackling and the heaving.
“Let me edge you to the best orgasm you’ve ever had,” Ncuti kept on glaring over his shoulder, his eyes blood shot, laughter always leaving his wide, open mouth, “Or you stay here, with my pincers at your feet, for the rest of the day …”
Ncuti twisted his feet from side to side, up and down, they tried to cross over each other, all ten of his toes clenched as the pincers moved from his big toes and began to jump to the littlest, moving across to the next toe in line, and then the one after that, “Edge me, toss me off, wank me as hard as you want!—“, Ncuti was now chuckling effortlessly at how utterly hopeless he sounded, “—Anything but this!—“
That was all Peter needed - with the consent given, the pincers were switched off and Ncuti dropped to his stomach in a constant pant, his entire body now soaked with a thin layer of sweat, the underwear that had been twisted into a thong now back to its brief state, thanks to all the squirming - to put it bluntly, the young ticklee looked absolutely flabbergasted.
Peter held onto Ncuti’s Calvin Klein’s and hooked the waistband with his index finger.
“So, we have a deal,” he announced, “Which mean it’s time for these to come off …”
To make things a little more comfortable for Ncuti, Peter invited him back where he started - in the apartment’s main living room.
Just like at the very beginning, Ncuti sat surrounded by bookshelves, foliage, vases and ordinary objects like tea cups and slippers, and, instead of taking a seat in his clothes, excited yet apprehensive like he had been at the start of the meeting, Ncuti sat down completely naked, damp with sweat, the bottoms of his feet still tingling from the vibrations of the pincers.
As a person he had evolved in a short space of time; when he sat here last he was unaware of the process, the feeling, the wall-hitting and explosive level of fun-soaked frenzy that could be created by the forms of tickle torment.
Now he appeared breathless, his eyes often narrowing, his grin as always very much bright and present - he had witnessed something extraordinary, a moment he would likely never forget … And the best part? He would face an orgasm unlike anything he had ever endured, right here, right now, within these four walls.
Ncuti sat in the middle of the sofa and did as Peter asked - he placed his feet over the coffee table, soles facing the camera, and spread his thick, attractive legs in an open A shape.
This position already made Ncuti’s semi erect arousal thicken into a tall standing wobble; it swayed agonisingly from side to side, helped by Ncuti’s right hand in regards to how hard it could eventually get - after some confident rubs and a brief look at Peter’s eyes, his blonde hair, the bulge behind his chinos … Ncuti found himself licking his lips, smirking and gesturing down to the full throb of his cock which now presented itself as a mighty rigid muscle that was desperate for release.
“No more touching,” Peter ordered as he dropped the gym back at the foot of the coffee table, “If you touch, I punish, it’s as simple as that …” Peter’s assessing eyes told Ncuti he needed to either shake his head or nod.
Ncuti nodded quickly, hypnotised to do as he was told by Peter’s good looks - Ncuti tucked his hands behind his head, the depths of his armpits on full show, his legs spreading just that little bit further apart, his taint, balls and tall standing cock fully exposed.
From within the gym bag Peter retrieved a gold, fully charged vibrator - he switched it on, filling a living room filled with breathless pants into a space now hosting the sound of dull yet powerful vibrations.
Ncuti closed his eyes, his world going dark, as soon as Peter pressed the vibrator against the soft, smoothness of his taint.
“Jeeeeesus,” Ncuti’s knees bent a little, “That feels …” he pressed his lips together and tilted his head - he had never been lost for words before …
Bzzzz … Bzzzz … Bzzzzzz …
Ncuti had no choice but to open his eyes and witness the brilliance taking place between his thighs - he felt his hands clasp tighter behind his head as he watched the thick, gold sturdiness of the vibrator gently rub up and down his hard on, all the way to its tip, down to the very base of his shaft, then across his hairless balls - he had never felt anything quite like this before, so much so, that a tiny white drop of pre cum had exposed itself from the shimmering helm of Ncuti’s arousal.
“Close already?” Peter cocked an eyebrow whilst using his spare hand to reach into the gym bag, “Need a distraction?” He picked out an electric toothbrush and switched it on, providing Ncuti and the surrounding living room with another vibrating sound, a now constant bzzzz, bzzzz, bzzz working as the background noise to Ncuti’s edging.
“Oh lord, holy mother of—“, Ncuti didn’t like to swear, but he found himself giving in, “—Fuck!—“, his eyes bulged open as soon as the electric toothbrush began to draw circles around his shaft, whilst the vibrator moved towards his taint, the golden tip now nudging closer towards his hole, a place only explored by lovers, boyfriends or lusting lovers of the past - this caused Ncuti to gasp as if he had never been touched there before, and maybe he hadn’t, by someone quite like Peter, - he shuffled down the seat a little, his legs still spread, his ass, taint and tiny, tight hole now fully exposed, allowing Peter to nudge the vibrator a little closer into Ncuti’s well kept and private intimacy, “It, it tickles but, it, it feels so, so …” Ncuti didn’t want to say anything too positive, how could something this devilish be good? He landed only on a faint, “… Mnn,” choosing to lift his shoulders into a careless yet content shrug instead.
Bzz … Bzzzz … Bzzzz …
Ncuti watched the electric toothbrush leave his shaft where it then travelled over his left knee and down his leg, towards his left foot - already, Ncuti started to chuckle in shock - he had to control the need to kick out, his arms leaving the behind of his head where his knuckles arrived between his teeth, “Oh!” It was an astonishing sight to behold, a pure imbalance between coping and being unable to cope, as the vibrator continued to rub, press, stroke and comfort Ncuti’s ultra smooth hole.
As soon as toothbrush arrived at the tips of the toes that made up Ncuti’s left foot, Ncuti reached his hands forwards quickly and grabbed hold of Peter’s tickle tool.
“—No!—”
His shout was loud, stern, it caused the fish in Peter’s fish tank to jolt - but instead of creating a sense of telling off, it instead informed Peter that Ncuti had not done as he had asked.
Peter leaned in close, “… Yes …” he pushed, “… Now for punishment …”
Ncuti whined and yanked his hands back as Peter lifted the electric toothbrush from his toes - the next few seconds became utterly intense as Ncuti watched Peter nudge the vibrator closer between the walls that made up a hole so tight barely a penny could fit through it.
“Can I?” Peter eyed Ncuti with a seriousness in his stare.
Ncuti’s mouth fell open - it stayed that way as he nodded slowly, as if under some kind of spell - his hands were holding onto the edges of the couch, as if he were about to fall through the earth - he watched Peter gradually press the vibrator inside of him, the gold, sharp front invading his hole where it sat snug within the warm confines of complete arousal - Ncuti sat shivering, his body now taking on the vibrations as if they were tidal waves crashing over him - he was jittery, uncertain, perplexed yet so very acutely aware of his surroundings and circumstance.
His arms threw themselves behind him and held onto the back of the couch as Peter locked Ncuti’s left foot in an arm lock and began to explore it with the electric toothbrush - Ncuti cackled and moaned, he bit his lip and heaved out through his nostrils, the fast spinning bristles whizzing between his toes, over his high arch, across the pinkness of his heel - his leg kicked, his knee jerked, his right foot bounced over the coffee table, all whilst the vibrator continued to buzz, buzz, buzz inside of him, his cock swelling, busting, twitching …
“This, this isn’t right,” Ncuti shook his head, “Please, stop—“ his toes clenched, his foot twisted beneath Peter’s chest, “—Mnn, I’m c, c, close—“, he then used his own fingertips to press the vibrator in a little harder, his other hand tweaking his own right nipple - he did not need to touch his erection to reach full orgasm, the knowledge of endurance, the fact his body was being used and punished yet pleasured and rewarded sent all the right chemicals from Ncuti’s brain down his spine and into his hard on, where eventually, he became overwhelmed by the sudden realisation that his orgasm would be taking place.
Nctui’s back raised into a high arch, his eyes squeezed shut, his thick lips shaped into an O, “Oh, oh, oh!—“, he held back onto the sofa’s edges, that falling through the earth moment now real, now happening, as he plummeted through a dimension filled only with gut wrenching joy and utterly hopeless peace, all whilst his left sole remained victim to tickle torment …
His left foot continued to writhe and squirm beneath the electric toothbrush whilst creamy shots of thickness spewed from his erection; he stiffened up, then he jellied up, then he stiffened up, then he jellied up, “Ah! Ah! Oh, oh!—“, his back remained arched, the vibration in his ass still throbbing, still tingling, still buzzing with a fully charged battery …
… Until there was nothing left to give.
In the end, all that remained were dozens of droplets of cum scattered over Ncuti’s dark brown torso, as well as a few gushes on Peter’s sofa.
Huff … Huff … Huff …
Ncuti chortled in beautiful angst as he felt the electric toothbrush buzz away from his soles and go back up his leg - he was breathless once again, this time not in a wheeze-like state but more of a astonished, manageable mix of fulfilment - his white teeth glowed on show once more as Peter took the electric toothbrush and ran it faintly up Ncuti’s orgasm-soaked cock - as soon as it arrived at the tip, Ncuti used his free hands to grab Peter’s tool, as well as his arms, where he buried them into his chest and pressed his face against Peters, nipping playfully at his ear.
“You’ve had your fun, you bloody sod,” Ncuti whispered into Peter.
Click! Bzzz—
The electric toothbrush switched off, allowing Peter and Ncuti to separate themselves.
Ncuti sat with his chest and stomach lifting, dropping, lifting, dropping, as the vibrator continued to buzz between his thighs.
“Would you mind?” Ncuti smirked at Peter and then gestured to the sex toy still wedged within him.
Peter nodded and flashed an engaged smile, “My pleasure …”
He then pinched hold of the vibrator and ever so carefully slid it out from Ncuti, who sat there narrowing his eyes and smiling effortlessly, his knees bending once again at the joy that came with the feeling of release and the exit of something so powerful.
He fell onto Peter and collapsed over his shoulder, offering his temporary dom a warm hug.
“No,” Ncuti explained, “The pleasure was all mine.”
