C A L I F O R N I A
It had been over three months since his kidnapping.
Justin had buried his experience, arrogantly convincing himself that he would never hear from or see The Clown again.
He had dipped a toe into therapy, but after a few sessions he realised he didn’t really need the help.
He felt confident and sure, moved on from his ordeal, at terms with the fact the police wouldn’t take him seriously …
Even if he had tried to make them understand that these perverts existed, they were real and they were a problem.
Justin kept his mouth shut.
He knew he couldn’t tell anyone else.
He had kept the written threat screwed up in the back of an unwashed jean pocket, hanging up in the depths of his walk-in wardrobe in his Los Angeles mansion.
He’d keep it forever, just in case he ever needed it for evidence, just in case the police did one day find his captors, just in case things turned out how he wanted them to …
‘Don’t forget, we filmed everything. Keep talking about this, and we leak the video … We’ll be in touch.’
But they hadn’t contacted him.
There had been no strange boxed deliveries arriving in his backyard, no one following him down the street, no phone calls in the middle of the night …
Justin left the liquor store with a bottle of red wine and a bunch of roses, ready to surprise his wife later on that evening.
He hopped into the driver's seat of his jet black SUV, slamming the door shut after, wearing a white vest, baggy shorts, black Nike socks and Drew sliders.
The creak of leather in the back announced that Justin was not alone.
His eyes shot up toward the windscreen mirror, where The Clown’s face stared back at Justin.
His prosthetic features, manic grin, sharp teeth and bright milky eyes framed by fierce red fuzzy hair remained stiff and silent.
Justin felt his chest fill with dread.
No.
He really had convinced himself that something like this would never happen again.
The need to become violent overwhelmed him.
Smash the wine bottle in his face.
Jump out of the car, run down the road, call for help …
But something deep inside told him to remain calm, to play this out, to not move an inch …
Take control.
Justin delivered his words with authority, a stern tone drenching his voice.
“Get … Out …”
The Clown tilted his head slowly, its fixed prosthetic facial expression never changing, never altering.
A beat of silence filled the car as Justin awaited a reply.
“…”
“… Justin …” The Clown growled.
“… It’s been so long … Is that how you greet an old friend?”
Justin kept his eyes on the mirror, his pupils stinging from the need to not blink.
“… I said … Get … Out …” Justin warned, his right hand leaving the bottle of wine.
The Clown tutted.
“Tsk tsk … Now, now. Don’t even think about reaching into the glove compartment, Justin … We removed your handgun earlier this morning, you naughty, naughty boy.”
Justin swallowed down, nodding carefully, his fingers curling back around the bottle of Merlot.
The Clown pulled a shiny red ball gag out from behind his back, dangling it in the air playfully.
“I must say! It was so lovely of you to have bought me flowers and wine,” The Clown giggled, the shade of the ball gag matching the tint of his own nose, “I guess romance isn’t dead! Don’t worry, I have a gift for you too … Open wide …”
Justin shook his head, squeezing his mouth shut.
The Clown shuffled forwards, the ball gag hanging from his leather index finger and thumb.
“Do as you’re told, Justin … All I need to do is make a call, just one call … And the footage we captured of you from last time will be all available for millions of other perverts, just like me, to see …”
The Clown’s gleeful tone transformed into a deep, loud, sinister snarl, “… Do you really want your career ruined, you stupid little bitch?”
Justin closed his eyes, his nostrils flared, his shoulders lifted at the volume of The Clown’s shout.
He held back the urge to dig the bottle of wine into his stalker's neck.
Acting in such a way would make things far worse than they already were.
And he couldn’t have that video out on the internet, he couldn’t let anyone know how t—
“—We haven’t got all day, Justin …”
Reluctantly, Justin slowly opened his mouth.
The Clown carefully attached the ball gag around Justin’s face, squashing the blood red coloured sphere of plastic between his lips, clipping it at the back of Justin’s head.
Justin blinked, his mouth now consumed by the gag itself, the ability to speak completely removed.
“So beautiful … So used, so owned … So strong and confident, yet so uncertain and lost … ” The Clown admired, “… Now, put that gorgeous size nine slowly down on the pedal, head north and take a right at the next alley … ”
Justin moved the bottle of wine and roses to the passenger seat beside him.
He swallowed down saliva, his plump lips sitting neatly around the ball tucked between his teeth, his fingers curling around the steering wheel in concentration.
He then turned on his SUV, put his foot on the pedal and began to head down the street as ordered.
His brown eyes shot frantic looks from left to right, catching the glimpse of a cop car only a few taxi’s behind.
They can help.
They can stop this.
They can finally see …
I, I just need to—
“— They don’t care about you, Justin …” The Clown sniggered, “… You spent too much time lying in the past, too much time getting into trouble, too much time not being taken seriously,”
*giggle giggle*
“It’s funny … You really do only have yourself to blame …”
Justin growled into his gag, turning a right down the next alley, his SUV leaving the high street where it rolled to a stop between two apartment buildings and some overspilling trash cans.
At the end of the alley, around ten feet ahead, a rusty white van reversed towards Justin’s vehicle.
“… Here’s our horse and coach!” The Clown announced, “What are you waiting for, Justin?”
Justin wiped some dribble from under his chin.
He opened up the car door and then slid out of the SUV.
The Clown left the SUV also, placing his gloved hand carefully on Justin’s right shoulder.
He then escorted Justin to the van, where two other Clowns appeared from around either side of the vehicle.
One of them held a brown sack.
Justin turned to The Clown holding onto his shoulder.
He couldn’t say the words, ‘please, you don’t have to do this’.
So his eyes tried to communicate instead.
They glistened over, his bushy brows raised, his head lowered in concern.
The Clown cackled behind his mask.
“The puppy dog act doesn’t work on us, handsome!”
Within seconds and almost too suddenly to deal with, both Clowns manhandled Justin so that his hands were pinned behind his back, with the sack making its way forcefully over his head.
“Mppphh! Mphhh! Mmmmppphh—”
—The back doors of the van swung open.
Justin was thrown inside, where he landed on an old dusty mattress with a heavy bounce.
The doors slammed shut …
The van sped away …
Leaving Justin’s SUV parked in the alley with the roses and red wine for his wife discarded on the passenger seat.
T W E N T Y T W O M I N U T E S L A T E R
A N U N D I S C L O S E D L O C A T I O N . . .
Creaaaaak!
… Footsteps, shuffling …
… Leather fingers curling around each of his arms …
“Mmpphh—mphhh!”
… Pulled out of the van so quickly that his sliders slipped away from both of his socked feet …
… The floor feels dry, like it’s made of concrete …
… Justin tried to breathe in his surroundings, to familiarise himself with any scents …
… The sack over his head permitted him from doing so …
… Tripping, stumbling, they’re walking too fast …
… Tip toe over a puddle, socks now soaked …
When are they taking this damn gag out?
… Click, click …
… Creeeeeeeak …
… Carpet, air con, up a flight of stairs …
… A left, a right, down some steps and then through two more sets of doors …
… The comforting bounce of a bed, as The Clowns threw Justin down over its edge …
… The sack lifted away from his head …
… Sunlight!
Still gagged, Justin could do nothing but swallow down saliva, squint his eyes and take in his surroundings.
Before him; The Original Clown as well as the two others that had bundled him into their van.
They were all dressed in black leather jumpsuits, all masked in the same terrorising way … All standing with heads tilted, staring directly at Justin.
The twenty eight year old glanced around the area he had landed in.
There was a desk in the corner with a food menu and coffee machine placed neatly on its surface, a wooden chair tucked underneath.
Over the other side of the space were floral curtains framing floor to ceiling windows.
Attached to the wall - a wide screen TV, currently switched off.
He appeared to be sitting in a standard hotel room.
Justin adjusted himself on the bed’s edge, comforted by the normality of the setting,
For the first time, he tried to communicate, despite the gag in his mouth.
“Lig-en, guysh, mphh, yug gun ugphha-ooo-ahh …” (Listen guys, you don’t have to do this …)
—As The Clown to the left went to shut the door, the one to the right knelt down in front of Justin.
“It’s as simple as this, you juicy chunk of meat …” This Clown spoke the same way as The Clown who had appeared in the back of his SUV, suggesting to him that all of The Clowns had some device within their mask that made their voices sound the same, “… Keep your hands above your head for twenty seconds, and you get to go back home to your big, expensive mansion. Drop them, in any way …”
Justin allowed some drool to droop out of the corner of his mouth, seeped out by the ball gag, where it stretched down past his neck, landing on his vest.
“… And you’re ours, for three hours, non stop … Understood, Justin?” Asked The Clown.
Justin’s eyes widened.
“Mpph, thwee hougers?” (Three hours?)
The Clown remained in his knelt position.
“… Nod three times if you understand, Justin.”
Justin nodded three times, his eyes shooting from Clown on the right, over to Clown on the left.
The Original Clown, standing between his two Clown-like colleagues, climbed onto the hotel bed and sat casually behind Justin.
The kneeling Clown returned to a standing position and then took a few steps back.
The Clown on the right twirled in a quiet spin, arriving near Justin, where he pulled a tiny black remote out from behind Justin’s left ear, as if by magic.
“Lift your hands above your head, pretty boy …” The Original Clown ordered.
Slowly, Justin raised his hands into the air, pointing his fingers up towards the hotel room ceiling.
In just a vest, this movement completely exposed his armpits, armpits full with curls of brown hair, armpits already presenting the slight wiff of sweat, armpits that everyone in the room knew were highly sensitive to touch.
Justin gulped.
The Clown with the remote danced in anticipation as the standing Clown giggled and began to count down from ten.
“Twenty … Nineteen … “
Justin stared forwards, his eyes glaring through the glass window a few feet opposite him, out into the view of Los Angeles as The Clown behind him began to gently wiggle his fingers over Justin’s forearms.
“ … Eighteen … Hee hee hee …”
Justin scrunched his toes up within the damp cotton confines of his socks, scraping them against the carpeted floor in focus as The Clown’s fingertips neared his armpits.
“… Seventeen … Sixteen …”
Justin stamped his feet against the carpet as The Clown’s touch reached his pits, the leather fingertips wiggling with increased pressure, invading the moist, sweltering depths far more suddenly than Justin could prepare himself for.
“… Fifteen … Here hee hee … ” The Clown sniggered, “… Four … Hee hee … Tee-hee-heen …”
Justin heaved through his gag, his eyes now wide open, his teeth clamping down over the ball of plastic as The Clown made his way around the curve of Justin’s pecs, where he discovered a highly sensitive chunk of flesh that became Justin’s unexpected weak spot.
“… Thirtee-hee-hee-hee-heen … “
You can do it.
The Clown wiggled his fingers around that area with such force that it made Justin arch his back, kick his feet wildly, scream into the material stuffed inside his mouth.
“ … Twelve … Eleven … Ten …”
You have to do it.
Justin stretched his arms up as much as he could, despite his brain urging him to pull them down as The Clown’s leather fingers grabbed and dug up around Justin’s pecs, causing the young man to now kick so hard that his left foot unintentionally made its way to The Second Clown’s grasp.
“… Nine … Eight … Hee hee hee …”, The Second Clown snatched Justin’s ankle from out of the air and then caught it in a sudden arm lock, where he yanked off his sock, revealing the young singer’s plump, super soft and now exposed bare foot.
Justin swallowed down air, his leg pulling repeatedly, his sole now being touched and stroked by The Clown’s wiggling fingers.
“… Seven … Six … Hee hee hee … Five …”
Justin now had to deal with the discomfort taking place over the bottom of his left foot, as well as The Clown behind him infiltrating the centre of each of his armpits.
“… Four … Three … Hee, hee, heeee …”
The Clown kept one hand inside Justin’s left armpit whilst relentlessly exploring his sides with his other, Justin’s reactive mind wanting to end this more than he could handle, his arms wanting to pull down, his hands wanting to reach out to The Clown toying with the toes of his right foot.
“ … Two … “
Justin cried into his gag, his eyes watering, his toes curling, his fists clenching.
“… One.”
Justin threw his arms down by his sides, yanked his foot away from The Clown and then grabbed the ball gag from out of his mouth.
“FUCK YEAH!” He cheered, throwing the gag against the window, where it landed with a squeak, “I did it, I fucking did it you, you, you mother fuckers!”
He went to stand, ready to be released, ready to leave, ready to end this …
… But The Clown’s forced him back down.
“Wait, what, you, you sa—“ Justin glared at them furiously, his feet sliding against the carpet as he struggled to get back up, “—you, you said I could go if I—“
The Original Clown grabbed Justin by the jaw, holding his face in position.
“Shhh, shhh … Handsome boy …”
The Clown moved its plastic mask face towards Justin’s left cheek, breathing in the scent of his skin.
“… We said: ‘Keep your hands above your head for twenty seconds, and you get to go back home to your big, expensive mansion’ … So, that’s exactly where we’re going …”
Justin pulled his head away from The Clown’s grasp.
“No. I’m, I’m done with this bullshit,” Justin declared, attempting to stand again, “I’m getting the fuck outta—“
The Clown with the remote pressed his thumb over the middle button.
Suddenly, pink smoke started to puff out of the corners of the hotel room ceiling.
“Oh, please don’t worry, Justin …”
The Clown’s all spoke at the same time.
“… We’re still going to play with you … It just means we’ll be doing it in the privacy of your own home, instead of here …”
Justin’s eyes bulged in disturbance.
“No, no you’re damn not!” Justin breathed in the same stench that wafted up his nose before his capture on Halloween, “My security are gonna fuck you up, man, you, you just—“
Justin kicked and punched, he spat and cursed, but the more he moved the more tired he felt, just as the thick fumes of pink began to invade his mouth, his eyes, his nose, “—Get the fuck offa me you, you mother fuck … Fuck … Why … Why—“
Drowsiness overwhelmed him, his arms and legs went limp …
And before he passed out, he managed to mumble out one last thing …
“… Why m-me …“
J U S T I N ’ S L . A M A N S I O N
Justin woke to the feeling of leather behind his shoulders.
His wrists were strapped to each upper corner of his own king sized bed, his arms hooked over bent knees, the knee’s of The Clown seated behind him.
The Clown ran fingertips through Justin’s hair as Justin’s head twisted around in The Clown’s lap.
He glared up at The Clown, who stared down at Justin.
Justin began to panic even more when he realised he lay there naked, with his ankles tied to each bottom corner of the mattress, his toned, tanned physic bound to the very bed he had woken up in this morning.
Justin’s limp dick flapped from side to side as he rolled his waist from left to right, his body squirming, his mind overwhelmed by how exposed and vulnerable he currently felt.
His bedroom window curtains were open.
Helicopters hovered far away …
His cheeks boiled red with embarrassment, anger, fury - his detest at the situation expelled through gritted teeth.
“No, this, this isn’t cool, fuck, why the, why the fuck am I–” he pulled his hands towards him with all his mite but the restraints were tied too tightly, “—naked, why the, the f-fuck–”
“… We’re about to tickle you the hardest you’ve been tickled yet, Justin! I think it would be ridiculous to act out such extremities whilst you’re fully clothed, wouldn’t you say?”
Justin growled, kicking his feet, pulling at his bondage.
“Don’t you fucking touch me you mother f–”
“--It’s worth mentioning, that ticklish, naked body is going to be recorded, pretty boy!” The Clown interrupted, clapping and cackling, “Once again, you’re under our lens … But this time, we’re sharing the session on a live Instagram stream …”
Justin’s eyes bulged open, his legs and arms kicking madly as he watched the second Clown position a tripod at the end of the bed, attaching an iPhone to its top.
Click!
Beep!
“No, don’t do that, don’t film this, fuck!!—“
Justin began to hyperventilate in alarm, his wrists pulling at the restraints pinning his arms above him, “—I, I did everything you asked, I haven’t told anyone, I swear, I swear to God! Please don’t film this, seriously, man, do anything but–”
The Clown seated behind Justin’s shoulders took their stroking fingers away from Justin’s hair and instead began to stroke them around Justin’s neck.
“—Shhh, shhh, there there … It’ll all be over … In a very, very long time … Hee hee hee!”
Justin began to pant as the The Clown began to stroke his armpit hair, the Clown by the tripod ensuring the iPhone’s camera was right, a camera capturing Justin’s spread eagled, naked body, his big balls and flaccid dick, his worried, concerned face …
The third Clown seemed to be missing - unbeknownst to Justin, he was down at the pop star's front door, surrounded by knocked out security, keeping an eye out for anyone who may return home early …
Justin writhed in panic as The Clown seated behind his shoulders continued to toy with his underarms, his body rolling from left to right in its bound, starfish position.
The Clown left the camera and then danced towards Justin’s upper body, pulling a bright blue seagull feather out from behind the pop star’s right ear, only to then pull a bright green seagull feather out from behind his left.
“Abracadabra!” The Clown chuckled.
He then handed his colleague the blue feather.
The Clown, still seated behind Justin with his head in his lap, took the feather and began to stroke it and wiggle it around Justin’s face.
“Don’t! Don’t film this shit!”
Justin spat as the feather brushed over his lips.
“Come on, fuck, please!”
He blew at the feather, its stroke around his nose irritating and relentless .
“Pffft! Pffft! I, I haven’t told anyone, I swear!”
The Clown with the green feather climbed onto Justin’s bed and began to twirl the feather between Justin’s thighs, allowing the sharp yet soft tool to glide between his balls and around his hairy taint.
Justin arched his back, throwing his head over his chest, his eyes widening at the feather wiggling in the middle of his legs.
“NO, H-HELP, HELP!” Justin shot a frantic look at the iPhone, desperate for the viewers to do something, “PLEASE, FUCK, SOMEONE HELP—“
Justin threw his body back as The Clown behind him began to send the feather around his collarbone and tattooed chest, over erect nipples and further down to his waist and hips.
“Such a juicy, silky smooth, sexy looking sole … “ The Clown at Justin’s thighs crawled down to Justin’s right foot, “… All mine for the taking! Isn’t that right, Justin?”
Justin peered down at the bottom of the bed with eyebrows raised, “No, no, come on! Stop, man, this isn’t right! Turn the camera off, turn the—“
—He winced and hissed as The Clown began to slide the feather between his right big and index toe, whilst the Clown behind him leaned over his chest and started to wiggle the feather across his navel.
“—turn the camera off, turn the camera off, fuck, fuck, stop, stop, stop—“
“—Stop? Stop? Stop! Haha! We’ve just got going, Justin!” The Clown behind Justin reminded, “Now buckle up, it’s going to be a laughter-filled four hours!”
Justin threw his head forward, scrunching up his face, his eyes squeezing shut as The Clown behind discarded the feather and began to explore his armpits with ten fingers all at once, all whilst The Clown at the bottom of the bed invaded the between of his toes with the feather.
“Four hours?!” Justin cried, “You, you sss-said three, you, you said three, you, you fu, fu, fuucking said th—“
Justin kicked his legs and took in a breath, holding the laughter in for now by pressing his lips shut.
“See, everyone!” The Clown addressed the iPhone, “Look at the distress in his face! He’s already struggling to handle it and we’ve only been recording for a few seconds!”
Ping!
Ping!
Ping!
Messages and responses to the live session started to pop up as viewers went from a few hundred to a few thousand …
Justin bit his upper lip, his eyes snapping open as he began to breathe in frantically.
“Ah man — FUCK — this isn’t cool, damn! Please, God, turn the camera off!”
Justin shot a hysterical stare at the iPhone, where he once again tried to cry out to the people viewing the session.
“Please! Please, someone, anyone, anyone help me! I’ll give, g-give you anything, fuck! Money, clothes, cars, whatever! Fuck, this isn’t cool, God this isn’t right, man — help, someone, I’m, I’m, I’m—“
“—You’re what, Justin?” The Clown continued to invade Justin’s underarms and pits, The Clown at Justin’s foot now sending the nib of the feather over his arch in a drawing, circular motion, “You’re helpless, you’re tied and you’re ticklish! That’s what! Utterly helpless, utterly tied and utterly ticklish … And the viewers can do nothing, you’re all ours and that’s that!”
Justin gasped as the sharp nib of the feather slid across his sole, his body jolting in surprise, his upper body lifting away from the bedsheets in panic.
“NO, fuck, don’t do that… ” he whined, trying to add a layer of assertion to his voice, “... That’s too sharp, fuck that tickles too mu—“
—The Clown continued to stroke the nib up and down, up and down, up and down … All whilst The Clown behind Justin’s sent fingers into the warm crevasses that made up Justin’s armpits.
Justin began to pant inward, his mouth splaying into a manic grin, the laughter ready to explode out at any second.
Before he gave in, he shot one more desperate look at the iPhone standing at the end of the bed.
“First person to, to come get me wins a, a million dollars— please fuck, someone, anyone come on, do something, my, my address, my address, is, is, seventy four ever gree—“
The Clown sent the nib under the fleshy length of Justin’s toes
“—GREENROADFUCKPLE-EHEHE-HAHAHAHAHAHA-EEEAA-HAHAHA-EEEEASE—“
Justin exploded into hysteria, his mouth wide open, his eyes squeezed shut, his face a shade of pink.
His armpits and right sole were attacked non stop, relentlessly, as the iPhone continued its record.
Justin’s laughter filled his bedroom, his mansion's halls, his downstairs cinema, his kitchen, living room and home.
All whilst Justin scrambled in his bound position on the bed, his naked body writhing and squirming as his underarms and right sole fell victim to two merciless Clowns at once.
T w o h o u r s l a t e r . . .
Ping!
Ping!
Ping!
The heart emojis, laughing faces, DM’s and reactions flooded through as over three million people joined the live stream.
Justin had now been transformed into a hot, sweaty mess, his hair soaked to his scalp, his cheeks swollen, his lips puffy, his eyes so scrunched up that creases had formed at each side of his head.
Perspiration decorated his neck and throat, his chest and abs, his legs and the tops of his feet.
The second Clown had decided to take a cigarette break by the bedroom window as The Original Clown remained perched behind Justin’s shoulders, the twenty eight year old’s head still squirming in his lap.
In this position, The Clown could continue to invade Justin’s armpits in a constant, relentless stroke, his fingertips brushing over the sensitive, moist expanse of flesh mercilessly, non stop, as he had done since Justin woke up like this hours ago.
Justin giggled incessantly, unable to provide heavy, deep laughter, tickled now far more than he had been during his time in the stocks at Halloween.
“Have you ever been tickled like this before, Justin?” Asked The Clown.
Justin shook his head slowly, his grin fierce and determined whilst broken and crushed at the same time.
“You can’t even speak, can you, Justin?” The Clown giggled, “I did wonder why you hadn’t asked your audience for help in a while…”
Justin shook his head again, giggles making their way out of his nostrils, his broken lips, through a throat now sore, dry and bobbing in the middle of his neck.
He writhed from side to side, naked and tied, his sweat soaking the sheets beneath his body, unable to stop The Clown from infiltrating such a highly sensitive area of his underarms.
He took in a large breath, expelling a long line of whispered begging straight after.
“—please, please, please, please, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop—“
Justin whined, his pleading falling out all at once.
“—I can’t take it, I can’t take it, I can’t take it, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck—“
He muttered with dribble forming around his mouth, his words spoken with no pause between.
The Clown at the window lifted their mask above their jaw, placing the cigarette against their real mouth, taking a puff and blowing the smoke into Justin’s bedroom with a smirk.
“You asked us, ‘why me’, earlier on, didn’t you, Justin…?” The Clown asked, taking a long long drag from his cigarette.
Justin bounced on the spot, his shoulders falling into a cramp, The Clown still sending fingers into his armpits.
Ping!
Ping!
Ping!
More emojis, more reactions, more messages fluttering through the Instagram live.
“The question is more …” The Clown blew smoke out through the plastic holes of their mask, “… Why not?”
The Clown at Justin’s armpits cackled.
“We got payback on you last time, for being such a bastard — you deserved it, after all, for acting like such a spoiled brat for most of your damn life!”
The Clown wiggled his fingers over Justin’s armpit hair, the softer sometimes working better.
“But right now? Well, we’re just doing it for fun!”
Justin cried out in despair, unsure of how much time would be left, uncertain if he’d been here for one hour, two, three or four like The Clown’s had planned.
Maybe it had been longer? He couldn’t tell.
“Ple, please,” Justin spluttered, “Not, not again, I can’t do this a, a, again, please, please, please—“
He began to buck and roll over the mattress, his voice filled with alarm.
“—I’ll, I’ll do anything, anything, you can fucking take anything, everything, all, all, all I have, all I, all I—”
Justin began to lose his breath, the harder his armpits were tickled, “—haf, haf, haf, haf, have—“
The Clown with the cigarette continued to smoke calmly.
The Clown at Justin’s underarms persisted in their torment.
“Oh Justin, thank you for the offer, but I think it’s clear we have everything already!”
Justin heaved out distress, his head twisting down to The Clown’s right hand, and then to his left.
“—God, please, ple, ple, ple, please just, just tick, tick, tickle someoa-ahahaha-aahne else, choose someone else, else, else—“
The Clown slowed down his attack, stretching his palms out over Justin’s chest where the leather of his gloves squeaked over his sweat drenched skin.
Justin spent this time filling his lungs with air, his eyes closing, unable to stare at the ceiling any longer during this wild, insane ordeal.
“Pl, pl, please,” Justin wheezed, “This is … Fucking … Not ri, ri, right—“
Justin stiffened as The Clown’s flat palms turned into a claw shape, his fingers returning into their digging position where they travelled back inside the sweltering depths of his underarms.
“NO—“ Justin bucked and bounced, “No more, please! Pl, pl, please—“ Justin swallowed down dry air, his throat catching, his ability to breathe growing more challenging by the second, “—I can’t stand it anymore, I can’t, I can’t take it any, any lo, lo, longer!” He managed, “Please, please, please stop—“
The Clown at the bedroom window continued to smoke as he watched on, admiring Justin’s naked body, the way it squirmed, the way his muscular legs kicked, the way his fists curled around the ropes binding his arms above him, the glow of perspiration and it’s glimmer over his ticklish flesh.
He blew smoke out into the air, smiling in satisfaction.
“You can’t stand it anymore, pretty boy?” The Clown seated behind Justin asked, “Now why is that?”
Justin didn’t hesitate in answering, displaying no attempt to be cocky or confident.
“It’s the—“ he heaved in, trying to gain more air to speak, “—the worst, the worst time of my, my life, the worst tic, tic, t-tickling I’ve ever h-h-had—“ he admitted, growling out his answer, his mind ready to explode.
The Clown felt their own sweat build up behind the plastic of their mask as their fingers continued to work Justin’s pits.
“The worst tickling you’ve ever had?”
Justin threw his head upwards, the bed shifting with his aggressive shift, “You’re k-k-killing me!” He cried.
The Clown giggled, now taking one hand around Justin’s left side whilst the other hand delved deeper into Justin’s right armpit.
“So, you’re telling me you’ve never been tied up and tickled before you met us, Justin?”
Justin shook his head madly, his cock wobbling across his waist as he shook his hips from left to right.
“—No, nev, nev, never—“ he answered.
The Clown with the cigarette finished smoking, flicking the butt out of the window, where it landed somewhere in Justin’s backyard.
He then approached the bed, climbing on the mattress, where he straddled Justin.
“Well, we’ll have to make it memorable for you!” The Clown announced.
Justin’s eyes widened as both Clowns tickled his upper body at the same time, The Clown seated behind his shoulders invading his underarms whilst The Clown straddling his waist tickled his sides.
“—Please, no, no, not two, not two, fuck, shit, h-h-holy sh—shhahahahah-ahaha-hahaha-hahahaha-oh-oh-oh-ohgo-ahahahaha-aaaa-ahahahad—“ heave — “I’M SERIOUS YOU FUCKING FREAKS, FUCK, STOP, NO, NO, NO—“
Justin fell into lunacy, a severe delirium taking over his body, the lack of control and inability to break free from his bonds overwhelming him beyond belief, sending him into hysterical oblivion.
He arched his back, lifting The Clown up along with it, to the point where The Clown was nearly thrown off of Justin’s body.
“Woo-hoo!” The Clown cheered, “Buckin’ Bronco!”
The Clowns maintained their positioning, tickling around Justin’s hips and waist as Justin giggled and panted, puffed and wheezed.
“—No, no, no, no — not, not two at once fuck, fuck, not, not two at once—“ he managed, through a burning stomach, tight neck and a tongue as dry as sand, “—please, god, please, please, please, help, help, help—“ he tried to raise his voice so the Instagram live would hear, but the iPhone continued it’s record, the viewer numbers increasing in their millions.
Ping!
Ping, ping!
Ping, ping, ping!
Both Clowns reached down over Justin’s torso, their leathery fingertips discovering more ticklish areas second by second, in this instance - Justin’s stomach.
He jolted upward, grunting in dire despair, throwing his head towards his navel, his eyes widening in distress as The Clowns began to tickle his tummy at a relentless speed.
His eyes widened, he stretched his jaw down to his neck, he could expel no more laughter, just air and gasps and huffs of disbelief.
How could his stomach be this ticklish?
They pinched and stroked and jabbed around his abs, sent their index fingers into his belly button, they invaded the super sensitive flesh that made up the space just above his cock.
Naked and tied so tight, Justin could do nothing but kick his feet wildly, his heels dragging over the bedsheets, knocking them off the mattress as the bonds around his ankles continued to keep his feet in place.
Downstairs, by the front door, the third Clown grinning sadistically as they heard Justin’s howling, his bellows that sounded like they came from his very core, the very depths of his being, echo out through the otherwise empty Los Angeles mansion.
“Are you, are you tickling guys, every—”
Pant, pant, pant.
“—Every night?”
Justin had to ask, he had to make sense of all this.
The Clowns both spoke in unison.
“Not any quite like you.”
H O U R S L A T E R . . .
The Clowns untied Justin, stepping away carefully, leaving his left ankle strapped to the left corner of the bed.
They knew that if they were to fully untie him, he might attack them.
Justin buried his sweat stained face into the palms of his hands as he dealt with the fact that the world had just seen him be tickle tortured, non stop, for hours and hours and hours, bound and naked, via Instagram live.
His screams, his breathless giggling, his pathetic, needy begging …
The thrashing around, the spitting and crying and swearing and pleading …
“... Viewed by … By everyone,” Justin sniffed, speaking his thoughts out loud, wiping some emotion away from his nose as he grabbed a pillow and covered his manhood, “Get the fuck out,” he waved his hand at The Clowns, “… NOW!… ” He shouted.
The Clowns remained standing, all three of them staring at Justin quietly.
The Original Clown picked the iPhone off of the tripod and then turned the screen around so that it faced Justin.
The iPhone appeared to be switched off.
Justin’s eyes widened as all three Clown’s began to giggle.
“What? Wait … So, you, you didn’t …”
The Clowns shook their heads slowly, both at the same time.
“We love you, Justin …” said Clown number two, “We’d never do something so … Evil … So damaging …” he cackled into his leather gloved fist, “… Not this soon in, anyway …”
Justin felt relief and anger wash over him, all at once.
He lay down on his back, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, the chandelier above twinkling back at him.
“This is fucked,” he whispered to himself.
The Clown’s began to pack away the tripod.
“We have a mission for you, Justin …”
The Original Clown pulled a photograph out of their jumpsuit pocket, throwing it over to the bed, where it landed between Justin’s thighs.
Justin sat up, picking up the photograph with his index finger and thumb.
“Make contact with this person. We want him just as breathless as you. We’ll be in touch. We’ll explain everything. But for now, all we can say is: it won’t be us doing the tickling …”
Justin felt his chest fill with dread when he saw the person in the photograph.
A young singer with floppy brown hair, a bright white smile, holding a guitar, wearing a vest and jeans, singing to crowds at a tour …
“… It’ll be you.”
As The Clown’s left Justin’s mansion, Justin grabbed a pillow and screamed into it the hardest he’d ever screamed in his life.
“FU-UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-UUUUUUUCK!!”
‘CLOWN’ CONTINUES IN CHAPTER FOUR, ‘MERCY’