“You’re so desperate to be a part of this …”

Leo paced around the throne as Sebastian sat huffing and panting,

“… But you’ve just spent the best part of fifteen minutes begging for it to stop,”

Leo arrived opposite Sebastian, where he folded his arms and tilted his head to the left,

“Which one is it?” He asked.

Sebastian adjusted himself in his seat and nervously shifted his eyes from side to side as he felt his role within the production become compromised by his inability to just laugh when tickled, instead of pleading also.

“I, I can’t help it,” Sebastian announced, unaware of how attractive his honest words were to a crowd who all, besides Joe, had knislomagnia, “The, the words just come out of my mouth,” he licked his lips and glanced up at his hands, his arms still contained by the slab of steel across his wrists, “It’s normal to want a feeling like that to stop …” Sebastian cocked an eyebrow as he wondered if he were alone in this thought process, Leo seemingly happy to push him into a realm of intensity Sebastian had never experienced before in his life, “… Isn’t it?” Sebastian’s tone was filled with doubt.

Leo smirked.

“It works,” he admitted, “I’ll give you that. It’s real, it’s genuine and, if I’m honest, your reactions, the way you’ve moved, how breathless this has made you … I think all of it is what made her ask a question …” Leo raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “ … The first time that has happened in over half a century …” he turned to the audience, as if awaiting their reaction, something he only had to give a few seconds pause to retrieve; as soon as he spun around, the crowd erupted in applause where they stomped their feet and clapped their hands, whooping and cheering at Leo and Sebastian’s achievement.

Joe remained still and quiet behind his mask, his mind yelling at him to approach one of the Horned Devils where he would demand back his phone, call a taxi, declare an end to this bonkers evening, but he could not move an inch, no matter how hard he tried …

Sebastian shuffled forwards in curiosity, the lore and mythology that had gone into this ad-lib script impressing him to say the least, even if his lungs did feel ready for this production to near an end.

“What can I say?” Sebastian shot eyes sparkling with amber towards an audience electrified by how he had handled such an intense level of public tickling so far, “I’m The Chosen One, after all … She picked me for a reason, huh?” He grinned and curled his toes, lifting his shoulders as a cocky expression of self assuredness returned to a face moist with perspiration.

The crowd began to chant Sebastian’s name as Sebastian felt his entire structure refill with confidence and energy, the chants fulfilling him massively whilst also tricking him into thinking he could take a few more rounds of intense tickling, Leo now returning to the open book he had laid back out over the surface of the stump.

“… Sebastian! Sebastian! Sebastian! Sebastian! …”

Leo raised his right hand politely.

“ … Sebas … “ the crowd stopped their chanting.

Leo cleared his throat.

“… Where’s Tom …” he repeated the question written out over the pages of the book as the feather continued to bob in the air, “… Where’s Tom …” he chuckled, shaking his head, sliding his hands into his pockets as he paced around the throne, “… Where’s Tom, where’s Tom, where’s Tom … You know something? It’s crazy … We’ve been asking that question for over half a year now. Half a year! And nobody knows where he is. Can you believe it? Even a fucking ghost wants to know the answer …” Leo arrived at the foot of the stocks, where he lifted his right hand, extended his index finger and ever so slowly journeyed it towards the middle of Sebastian’s left sole, “… You said it yourself. She chose you, kid. That must mean you’re our best bet yet at finding out where Tom is. That must mean you know …”

Before Leo’s index finger could make impact, Sebastian shuffled forward and exclaimed rather suddenly, “—Idon’tthinkmyfeetareticklish—”

Leo cocked an eyebrow.

He kept his index finger hovering over the silky smooth expanse of flesh that made up the bottom of Sebastian’s left foot, a foot perfectly held into place thanks to the ankle stocks and thick loop of string containing his big toe.

“You’re aware that’s a pretty obvious slip, right?” The tip of Leo’s index finger was now so close to the surface of Sebastian’s creamy tanned sole that Sebastian had to focus hard to not curl all five of his long, fleshy toes into a fierce scrunch, “You didn’t even ask what Tom I’m referring to. You didn’t even express your confusion. It was far more important for you to recklessly enlighten me that you don’t think your feet are ticklish. Seriously? You, you think I’ll leave them untouched? You think I’ll just believe you, and go someplace else …?” Leo took a few steps back, his index finger travelling away from the bottom of Sebastian’s left foot as he held his hands up in surrender, “… You know what? Maybe you’re right …” Leo nodded at the Horned Devil to his left, and then the Horned Devil to his right, “… His underarms, boys. Both at the same time,” he ordered, “And don’t hold back …”

Sebastian pulled at the cuffs containing his wrists with such sudden strength that his butt shot away from the seat, as if he were climbing some kind of rope, “—I mean it, I don’t think they are!—” he whined, his elbows trying their best to press against his chest, in the hope that he could close up his armpits, conceal them between his biceps and pecs, “—Please, not my pits, not again!—” but he could only lift himself so far, his legs contained too tightly in the stocks; before he knew it, both Horned Devils had arrived at either of his sides and where taking hold of his torso, manhandling him as if he were some rabid, growling wolf that would bite if not contained properly, “—Nnn, nnn, nnn , nnno—” Sebastian clenched his teeth and prepared himself for the worst.

Joe had so far been able to deal with the sight of Sebastian enduring the levels of brutal tickling he had been made to take as soon as the latch to the stocks had been locked, however, seeing not one but two people invade his underarms from both angles made Joe not only feel a little uneasy to witness such a view, but it made him start to believe that at some point, Bash would eventually break, he would eventually reach a point where he surely could not go through this level of tickling anymore, especially if he were unable to provide an answer to a question as vague as ‘where’s Tom?’.

Sebastian threw his torso from left to right as he shot flustered, bewildered looks at both of his ticklers, his armpits infiltrated by ten leather gloved fingers at once, their grabbing, stroking, poking and jabbing journeying from his elbows to his chest and all of the hyper sensitive, hairy flesh between.

They were experts at their craft, they knew exactly where to touch, where to apply pressure, how to pull out heightened levels of hysteria without even trying, something they succeeded in rather easily, in such an effortless way that Sebastian himself appeared impressed; his eyes widened, his bushy brows lifted, his head twisted from one Horned Devil to the other as he felt the laughter arrive once again, first in the pit of his stomach and then in the depths of his lungs, an astonishingly pleasurable and gut wrenchingly uncomfortable level of uncontrollable lunacy bursting out of him, where he giggled, laughed and leaped so hard within the bondage style throne that the entire structure rattled and creaked, the surrounding flames flickering into tiny dots of orange at the tip of the wick, as if they were intimidated by his own forced struggle.

The audience gasped behind their masks as Sebastian expelled a passionate and frenzied bellow of non stop, growl-ish laughter, his attempts to take a breath between each high pitched howl also his chance to beg, something he so wished he could do without it sounding like a whine.

“GRAH! AHAHAHAHAH-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAH-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHA—nopleasenotagain!—GRAH! AGAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAH—pleasenopleaseIcan’ttakeit!—GRAGH! AGAHAHAHAHA-AGAHAHAAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHA—notmypitspleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!—”

Leo stood with his arms folded, his back to the audience, his tiny eyes taking in all the details of Sebastian’s back arching, animated, eye widening reactions; he had felt it himself, when stroking Sebastian’s underarms at the start of this ‘production’, and he could see it right now, as both of his horned assistants burrowed all ten of their fingers into the shimmering, sweaty depths of each pit. There was a ‘spot’, a chunk of muscle between his pecs and bicep that caused him to flay his arms and look rather agonisingly downward at that specific area, every single time it had been touched. As Sebastian cried out a rather desperate, “—You don’t have to go so hard! Doing it lightly is enough!—” his laughter now so strained his eyes had started to water, Leo unfolded his arms and slowly began to approach the throne where he licked all five of his own fingers, sucking on their tips, soaking them with saliva, his other hand flapping his assistants away from Sebastian.

Sebastian huffed and heaved as he hung from his restraints, his mouth open, his lower lip swollen, entirely speechless and a little dumbfounded as Leo arrived beside him.

Sebastian jolted as Leo took both of his hands towards each of Sebastian’s elbows. He fluttered them gently over his arms, causing Sebastian to look up at them menacingly, his tongue hooking over his upper lip, a frustrated, “—Mnn, mnnn, nnnn! Mnnn!—” caught at the back of his throat as he watched Leo ever so gently, ever so slowly, travel that playful flutter away from his elbows, down his biceps, closer, and closer, and closer towards hits pits …

Sebastian’s, “—Mnn! Mnn, nn, nn—” transformed into a breathless giggle as he threw his head from left to right, his eyes never leaving Leo’s fingers as he witnessed them near his underarms, inch by inch, “—No! No? No! No! No!—” he whined, shock consuming him, the fingered flutter now so close to his pits that Leo’s touch had started to stroke against the very tips of his armpit hair.

“You don’t want me to go any further, do you?” Leo teased, “I should stay right here, huh?” Leo kept his fingers flutter just a few centimetres away from each of Sebastian’s armpits; Leo looked at Sebastian, who looked back at Leo, his eyes showcasing a genuine longing for Leo to stop, to go no further, to step away entirely, his legs kicking, his fingers flexing, his head nodding quickly.

“—Please?—” he whispered, “—just, just tickle somewhere else?—” he squashed his chin against his left shoulder as he took in the sight of Leo’s wiggling fingers; they could go in at any second, and he would lose his mind. He hated the thought, but he needed the view. Watching it take place felt like he had some form of control, when deep down, of course, he knew he had no control at all, a fact that reminded him almost instantly to try and make sense of it all again, “—why, why won’t you tickle somewhere else!—” he whined, his head now twisting to the right where his cheek squashed up against his right forearm, both arms contained so tightly either side of his head, Leo’s fingers brushing and stroking and wiggling over the very tips of his armpit hair, making the twenty one year old wait, and wait, and wait, and wait …

“Well,” Leo explained, his fingers now wiggling so hard and fast over each of Sebastian’s armpits that they had started to ache, “You said you don’t think your feet are ticklish. We may as well stay up here, huh? I’ve noticed a spot where you really can’t stand being touched. Maybe I’ll work that spot over and over and over. Maybe I’ll make most of both of these beautiful underarms of yours … Until she tells us to go someplace else…?” The feather continued its hover, she had not written down anything since her question, so until then it was down to Leo where he gave his dedicated attention, “Unless, of course, you think I should find out if your feet are ticklish?”

Sebastian shook his head, his eyes taking in Leo’s fluttering fingers to his left, Leo’s fluttering fingers to his right, where he would twist his head to the left once again, and then to the right, and so fourth, the flutter and wiggle now moving in closer, causing Sebastian to pant and gasp, his facial expression similar to one that would watch some kind of horrific car crash taking place in slow motion, “—oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—” he could not quite believe his circumstance, “—oh my god, my, my god, oh my god—” he repeated, laughter now leaving his throat in utter disbelief as he began to snicker, chortle, snort and cackle, the entire situation feeling so implausible, so wild, so maddening that he had no choice but to laugh, providing his answer to Leo in a gigglish, out of breath moan, “—I, I think my feet will be pretty bad too!—” he admitted, “—I, I think my feet will be pretty bad too!—”

Leo stepped away, allowing Sebastian a moment to experience the best case scenario; his fingers not forcing their way over the ultra ticklish chunk of flesh within each of his armpits; such a wash of relief caused Sebastian to sigh out loud, his twisted grin relaxing into a less worried smile, his eyelashes fluttering at Leo in thanks as his body weight dropped over the throne.

Instead, Leo asked the question written on the page, the question asked by hundreds of House of White Feathers members since the most ticklish ticklee within the cults database went missing months ago.

With a tilt of his head, he narrowed his eyes at Sebastian and asked,

As the feather continued to float above the open pages of the book, Sebastian’s eyebrows straightened into a deep frown.

“Tom who? I, I have no idea what you’re talking about …” he huffed, his lips blowing away the tingle and static still present over each of his underarms, “—Pfft! Pfft!—”

Leo walked slowly around the throne, his voice loud and commanding, so that the rest of the audience within the barn could hear him clearly.

“But you must know, otherwise she wouldn’t of asked …” Leo arrived at Sebastian’s right side, where he began to gently stroke Sebastian’s left thigh, “… Come on, kid. Just tell us … Where’s Tom … ?”

Sebastian’s right leg kicked as he watched Leo’s fingertips trail over his knee; he pinched at the cap, assessing the tender chunks of muscle around the bone, causing Sebastian to smirk and shake his head, his leg now remaining still.

“Ha! My knees aren’t ticklish,” he declared defiantly.

Leo narrowed his eyes, his hand still resting over Sebastian’s leg.

“Do you really think being cocky, right now, considering your current situation, is a great idea?”

Sebastian straightened his spine, “Ah,” he chuckled, his back already pressing into the throne, his posture informing Leo and the crowd that he was suddenly very aware his confidence might of put him at risk of another round of armpit tickling, “You’re uh, you’re probably right,” he mumbled.

The audience all laughed in unison as Sebastian smiled into the front row, shrugging at the masked guests, completely comfortable with Leo rightfully putting him in his place, almost like a teacher telling off a student, or in this case, a dom telling off a sub.

Leo took his fingertips back up to Sebastian’s right thigh, where they trailed over thick curls of leg hair as Leo decided to give those unknowing in the audience a little more clarity.

“… Spider-Man …” Leo contained a grin by biting his upper lip as he watched Sebastian’s right leg kick in and out, in and out, the closer his fingertips neared the hairy expanse between his thighs, “Peter Parker, Drake from Uncharted, the freak from The Crowded Room …” Leo’s fingertips lifted and landed over his stomach, where his index finger and middle finger ‘walked’ up Sebastian’s squirming torso, “… He belongs to us. We’ve lost him. We want him back. She thinks you know where he is …” Sebastian shook his head as he watched Leo’s walking fingers stroll up his stomach and past his chest, where they once again teased entry into his left underarm, “… So, I’ll ask you again … Where’s T—”

“—T, Tom Holland …?” Sebastian thrashed his upper body to the right, in an attempt to stretch himself away from Leo’s fingers, “… I, I, I’ve never met him!” Sebastian explained breathlessly, a groan leaving his mouth as he felt Leo’s fingers arrive at his armpit hair, “Please! I’m, I’m being serious, I’m not that famous! We’ve never even crossed paths! No, bloody no, come on—” Sebastian clenched his teeth as Leo began to gently wiggle his fingers past Sebastian’s armpit hair, “—No! Oh no!”— where they then began to forcefully wiggle their way into the depths of his underarm, causing Sebastian to arch his back and twist his torso to the left, then to the right, another steady, “—Oh no!—” leaving his lips in a desperate mutter, “—No, oi, listen, al, alright, agh! Not my pits, please, not again! Oh no, not, not again!—” quite suddenly, the idea of his underarms once again tickled by Leo became a dire reality that made him giggle and pant, buck and writhe, his arms wiggling against the sides of his head as he tried to make Leo understand that he was the last person on earth who would have any idea where someone like Tom Holland was, “—Oh! Oh please! Please? Oh, oh please, oh my god! Oh my god! I, I don’t know! May, maybe somewhere in London! L.A? Somewhere in America!” Sebastian heaved in and then tumbled into an uncontainable amount of laughter, his eyes squeezing shut, both of his legs kicking frantically as just one armpit was exploited; he tried to speak but just senseless mumbles left his lips, his head hanging over his chest in defeat as his unruly laughter, growls and shouts recharged the feather, causing it so swoop back down to the book by itself and — scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch — right down another word …

Leo slid his fingers out from Sebastian’s left underarm, patting the cheeks of his face with the back of his hand lightly, to try and snap him out of his hysterical fluster.

Sebastian blinked and jolted, flinching away from Leo’s pat as Leo stepped away and turned on his heels, walking towards the book as the feather floated away from the pages and bobbed over Leo’s head.

Leo’s blue eyes trailed from left to right as he read the newly written word staring back up at him.

“ … Oh, boy … ” his voice sounded pleased, “… Men, I’m gonna need your help again, she’s chosen somewhere pretty specific …” he placed his hands on his hips and left the book, spinning on the spot so that he faced the throne, now whispering the word scribbled out on the page, “ … Nipples …”

Sebastian, now with enough air in his lungs to feel able to formulate a sentence, could not help but allow his mouth to shape out into a crooked smirk; just like with his knees, he found himself landing in a moment of brief luck as he lifted himself further up his seat and proudly announced, “Oh, I uh, I actually like having my nipples played with,” his voice politely British, well spoken considering his levels of exhaustion, “So yeah, this is going to be quite nice, actually …”

Leo’s tongue trailed the edges of his teeth as he slid both hands away from his hips, both Horned Devils at either side of the set awaiting his instruction.

“Get the tools,” Leo ordered.

The audience fell into a discussing, mumbled murmur as the Horned Devils made their way to a side door located next to the bar, Joe now standing on tip toes as he continued to observe what would happen next; he knew that the introduction of tools would fill Bash with curiosity and concern, the latter Bash would most definitely try his hardest to hide.

“T, tools …?” Sebastian wished he had not sounded so nervous; in an attempt to reassure Leo and the surrounding crowd that he was comfortable with the suggestion, Sebastian cleared his throat and shook some chunks of hair away from his face, “Like, tools for tic, tickling, right? Not, not tools for pain, or, or—” Sebastian swallowed down a dry bubble of worry, completely aware of how much he had failed in trying to sound less apprehensive.

“Pain? Gosh, no. I think it’s pretty obvious by now our intention isn’t to hurt you, Sebastian,” Leo reassured, “We’re doing the complete opposite of that,” he watched the two Horned Devils return where they both positioned themselves either side of the throne, one Horned Devil empty handed, the other holding a golden tray with its surface hidden by a black velvet cloth, “Sure, you’ve screamed pretty hard, but they’ve been screams of pure glee, am I right?”

Sebastian’s torso stiffened once again as the same Horned Devils that had tickled his underarms so mercilessly only moments ago arrived inches away from his upper body.

“Glee,” Sebastian scoffed, “Yeah, glee …” he muttered under his breath, “ … If that’s what you call it …” he lifted his head that he could peer at the tray, “… So, come on then, show us these tools …” he surprised himself at how genuinely eager he seemed, a realisation that led him to wonder if he were eager for it to continue, eager for it to end, or eager to see if he could take this next step within an ordeal unlike any other, “… Show me what you got …” the audience gasped and nudged each other in excitement as Sebastian provided one of his most cavalier lines yet.

Leo approached the throne, Sebastian’s toes scrunching as a form of self protection as he passed by his feet, Leo’s presence clearly a little too close for comfort; he then held the hem of the black cloth and gently peeled it up and over the tray, revealing two black plastic electric toothbrushes laid out over the trays surface.

Leo shot an assessing look at Sebastian, he wanted to watch him try to figure this moment out for himself; the young man seemed comforted by the idea of having his nipples ‘played with’, but as soon as tools were mentioned, the rate at how quickly his heart sank was visible for all within the barn to see. Leo felt satisfied with the expression across Sebastian’s face, an expression filled with doubt and curiosity, his eyebrows lifting and dropping as he looked down at the electric toothbrushes, afraid of them, unafraid of them, knowing and both unknowing at the effects an electric toothbrush over his nipples might have on him mentally and physically. He had, of course, never felt an electric toothbrush against such a sensitive and mostly untouched part of his body, he did not understand what an experience like that might entail, but, the thought of it alone was enough for him to squeeze his eyes shut, face his lap and whisper out two very British words that summed up his current mindset, at the sight of an ordinary thing he used just this morning to clean his teeth.

“… Bloody hell …”

Sebastian felt chills run up his spine as an inoffensive, unthreatening, battery powered appliance suddenly became something worth dreading.

Leo picked up one toothbrush whilst the Horned Devil not holding the tray picked up the second.

The tray holding Horned Devil soldiered away as both Leo and the remaining Horned Devil manoeuvred themselves into position; Leo to Sebastian’s right side, the Horned Devil to Sebastian’s left side.

In unison, and much to the audiences entertainment, both Leo and The Horned Devil switched their toothbrushes on.

Click!

Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …

The instantaneous and turbo paced whizz of the electric toothbrushes spinning, bristled heads widened Sebastian’s eyes and snapped his spine into a straight line, “—Oh? Ri, right away? Al, alright—”, all ten of his toes curled into a manic flex as he stared forwards, out into the masked crowd, his face blanketed in a determined effort to stay calm, to see if he could keep his cool, to not beg, shout or display any pathetic whines or strained pleas, his eyes unblinking, his teeth clenched, his sight not even considering the electric toothbrushes and the fact that both of them were now, ever so slowly, starting to near a nipple each; for Sebastian, right here in this very moment, it was all about just getting through an experience he had no idea if he could even muster, for more than half a minute, “—It’s just a toothbrush—” Sebastian spoke through a tightly closed mouth, “—a, a toothbrush—” he reassured himself, “—It’s, it’s just an electric toothbrush …”

As the tip of Leo’s electric toothbrush pressed, ever so gently, against Sebastian’s right nipple, Leo asked the question once again.

“Where’s Tom?”

Sebastian’s entire body shook into one violent convulse; it lasted a fraction of a second, causing him to kick his legs with the same amount of strength that made the loafers fly away from his feet back when this session started, “—Ooooh!—” The whizz of the toothbrush almost stung. It made him wince and scrunch up his face, “—Graarrghhh!—” his head twisting down to his chest as the Horned Devil placed the tip of his own buzzing tool over Sebastian’s left nipple, “—Mnn!—” his body now still and tense, ungiving and rigid as he tried to pull his knees towards his stomach, the stocks and toe ties holding his ankles in place, a breathless and exasperated, “—BAH!—” blowing out of his mouth as he shot a fierce scowl towards the toothbrush buzzing over his right nipple, towards the toothbrush buzzing over his left nipple, then back towards the toothbrush buzzing over his right nipple, until he was shaking his head from left to right, right to left, left to right at such speed that his hair had now blinded him entirely.

Sebastian threw his head up in an attempt to hurl some of the chunks of blondey brown away from his face, a move that partially worked, his sight now back and his giggles now returning, as both Leo and the Horned Devil started to draw circles around both of Sebastian’s nipples, causing them to harden from fleshy stumps into solid pinned points, “—Hehehe, hehehehehe, s—ss—sssstop!—” Sebastian wriggled his shoulders and stretched his torso as far as he could to one side, “—Hehehehe, eheheheehehe, pl, pl, please!—” where he would then try to stretch it out as far as he could to the other side, the dire fact now very apparent: no matter how much he twisted and writhed, an electric toothbrushes would remain over each nipple until his ticklers either decided to switch them off, or the batteries conveniently ran out of juice …

Much to his own defeat, Sebastian could not help but whine when begging, both two things he had tried to force himself not to do only half a minute ago; having the electric toothbrushes draw a non stop, never ending circle over each nipple was a gradual form of tickle torment that had produced breathless giggles to start and had now levelled up to an extremely impactful method that caused Sebastian to laugh out loud, hard and fast, his eyes bulging open, his mouth splaying out into a wild grin, his throat expelling hefty, genuinely impassioned rounds of steady, uncontrollable bellows.

“Where’s Tom?” Leo repeated, his eyebrows raising at the sight of Sebastian’s nipples as they hardened furthermore into a startlingly erect state, “Where does he live?” He asked, “Where is he right now …?”

Sebastian could not compartmentalise his thoughts and feelings. All he could do was heave and splutter in disbelief as he pushed out his chest and arched his back, so very desperate to move his torso away from each toothbrush, “Oh, oh, I, I don’t know! Oh my god, my, my nips, my nip, nipples!—” Sebastian shook his arms and tried to pull his wrists through the metal clamps above, his body now automatically entering a form of survival mode, something he had no choice in controlling, “—Lon, London? London! El, el, el — Oh! Oh my god, my, my nipples! They’re too sensitive!—” Sebastian, like many other instances throughout this evening, came to individual realisations regarding his levels of ticklishness one by one, this ordeal landing them in his lap in a way he would never of expected, “—Ask, ask his girlfriend, oh god, please, pleasepleaseplease just ask his bloody girlfriend!—” he tumbled into a realm of eye rolling lunacy as he giggled and laughed with no pause for breath in-between, his laughter strained and from the back of his throat, his head rolling over his shoulders as he offered both Leo and the Horned Devil a drained and depleted look that said, “—Please, I can’t do this anymore! I can’t handle being tickled like this! Please, please, please, please!—” even if he had just willing submitted to Leo, his ‘do whatever it takes’ fully discarded, scattered to the winds; after all, it was now quite clear to Sebastian that this was no longer a push to make him laugh, this had transformed into a full blown out interrogation …

… Sritch scratch scritch scratch scritch …

“Oh! She, she’s writing!” Sebastian yelped, mostly to get his ticklers to leave his nipples alone, “Go, go check your bloody book!” He started to scream, “—GO CHECK YOUR BLOODY BOOK!” His high pitched urgency made Leo and The Horned Devil switch off their tickle tools, The Horned Devil stepping aside, Leo now turning away from the throne where he made his way back to the stump.

Leo’s smile faded as he read not one, but two words, the feather floating over his right shoulder, the only sound within the barn being the crackle of candle wax melting beneath the flame and Sebastian’s heavy breathing.

“Massage feet,” he announced, his lips pursing in surprise, “Massage? Interesting,” he turned away from the book and placed the electric toothbrush down over the tray held over The Horned Devils palms, “She’s never asked for us to massage before …”

Sebastian blew some hair away from his eyes as he rested his back against the throne and grinned into the barns ceiling, trying his hardest to ignore the tingle over each of his nipples, where he instead decided to aim his focus at the best thing that god forsaken ‘ghost’ had decided to write all evening, his relief so strong he found the need to personally express his gratitude to the spirit.

“Babes, thank you,” Sebastian kept his face angled towards the barns rooftop, “I mean it, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, finally, a bloody break … ” The audience chuckled at Sebastian as he provided his genuine thanks, “… Wherever you are, whoever you are, you’re the best, I bloody love you,” his humour was now so entertaining the crowd had begun to cheer and clap, even if a ‘massage’ was the more tamer option they had expected to see written down over a book littered in scribbles.

Leo nodded to The Horned Devil standing beside the throne, who then soldiered past the tray, placing his electric toothbrush beside Leo’s where he then headed back behind the bar.

“There are a lot of people here who have been waiting for this moment,” Leo explained, “Sure, there are armpit fans within the audience who have been enjoying every single touch we’ve delivered to both of your ticklish underarms since you sat in that seat, but boy oh boy, there’s a lot of foot lovers here tonight, too …” Leo turned to the sea of masks, “ … Guys! Let’s male some noise for Sebastian’s feet!” He yelled.

The audience erupted in loud applause, cheers and whoops, some individual masked guests fist pumping the air and jumping on the spot; Quentin Tarantino, standing in a black scruffy tuxedo with a red devil mask over his face cheered the loudest, after all, his foot fetish was legendary and public, something he had embraced within his movies and throughout all of his career as an Oscar winning Director.

Sebastian sat awkwardly quiet, a blush forming over his sweat stained cheeks as he peered over the stocks and took in the sight of his own size nine and half’s; to him, they were nothing special, they were just feet, things he used to walk with, a part of his body mostly covered by socks and shoes, running trainers or loafers, loafers that were now being sniffed and stroked by the people who had caught them in the air, during a moment that felt like a lifetime ago. He had always naturally kept them to himself. He had never met anyone with a foot fetish, he had never had his toes sucked by a guy, he had never had a pedicure. He had never needed to have a pedicure. His feet had always been well looked after, mostly because he was rarely ever bare foot. To him, the objects he currently eyed were painfully ordinary, however to many other individuals within the barn, they were to be admired, respected and adored.

Just like his jacket removal and his devotion to attention at the beginning of this production, Sebastian decided to entertain and please the audience by wiggling and flexing his long, golden toes, “—Here they are, everyone!—”, curling them into a scrunch before flexing them back out again, “—All for free, all for you, all yours!—” the string looped around both of his big toes restricting his movement somewhat, therefore not allowing him to show them off as much as he would have liked …

As the clapping died down and as Sebastian, for the first time this evening, fully felt able to catch his breath, The Horned Devil returned from the bar with a cup, which he carefully handed to Leo, who also stood chuckling at Sebastians ability to charm and delight.

Leo took the cup and poured a generous amount of thick, oozy, clear liquid into the palm of his right hand.

Sebastian’s eyebrows straightened, the barn now falling into another realm of silence, the sort of quiet that actually sounded rather loud the longer it lasted. Feeling the warmth of the surrounding candle light, the promise of a massage instead of a tickle, the way his lungs felt relaxed instead of constantly fighting a battle he could never win, it all made Sebastian relax into the throne, his fists no longer clenched, his spine no longer stiff, his breathing now calm and steady.

“You know what you are, Sebastian?” Leo handed the cup back to The Horned Devil and began to walk towards Sebastian’s feet, his hands now soaked with the shimmering liquid, “You’re one lucky bastard …” he smirked, both of his hands curling around Sebastian’s left foot where he began to rub and massage the substance into Sebastian’s sole, “… Lord only knows how I’m going to get my answer to ‘where’s Tom’ out of you, by simply massaging these bad boys …” Leo lifted his shoulders, directing his questions to the audience as took his rub over to Sebastian’s right foot, “… She’s playing around with us, right? Why ask such an important question, and then suggest the most gentle form of physical probing?”

Sebastian closed his eyes and smiled peacefully, resting his head against the back of the throne as Leo squeezed and caressed both of his feet, never once scratching or stroking, always rubbing and applying pressure, his fingers now pulling firmly at each of his index toes, causing Sebastian to grin a little, but to mostly sit still and content.

“Beats me,” Sebastian shrugged, “Maybe she’s less cruel than you think,” he sighed, his soles, the tops of his feet, his heels and all ten of his toes now glistening under the fairy lights, their entire surface drenched in a thick layer of sparkling secretion.

Leo decided to focus on just one foot; he took both hands and started to massage Sebastian’s right foot only, his thumbs gliding over Sebastian’s arch in a repetitive knead, his touch so delicate and expert that Sebastian had no choice but to shape his mouth like an ‘O’, burrow his bushy eyebrows and whisper out the words, “Bloody hell, have you done this before?”

Leo applied pressure over Sebastian’s right heel, his eyes taking in the beauty of Sebastian’s foot; its narrow shape, his long, well structured toes, the softness of his soles, the lack of marks, dry skin or blisters. The bottoms of his feet looked buttery, the tops a golden brown like the rest of his body. Leo felt aroused, his assessing eyes now shooting up to Sebastian where he offered him a flirtatious glance, and an even more flirtatious answer.

“Yes, but usually I’d be using my tongue …”

Sebastian felt his cheeks heat up as his mouth splayed out into a delighted grin, Leo’s ten shiny fingers now firmly addressing the sides of Sebastian’s right foot.

Joe was just as ticklish as Sebastian.

He had spent all night very grateful that he was not in Sebastian’s position, but for the first time since Leo had removed his hood and taken off his horned mask, Joe felt jealous; the words Leo had just muttered created a sense of envy deep within Joe that made him wish he was locked in that throne, that his feet were being massaged, that Leo was flirting with he and he only …

Before Joe could wonder why he had not been chosen, Leo continued to try and get the answers he wanted out of Sebastian.

“So, you really have no idea where he is?” Leo lifted his hands away from Sebastian’s right foot and then started to massage his left, “I know she’s giving you an easy ride right now, but you never know where she might take it later on. Believe me, she’ll do whatever she can to find out what she wants to know … You can avoid all that right now, by just telling me where —”

—Sebastian closed his eyes once again and breathed in slowly through flared nostrils, “—Oh, that,” he sniggered, “I’d forgotten about that,” he was now so relaxed that his hands and all ten of his fingers poked out of the restraints in a limp dangle, “Yeah, listen, I’m, I’m being serious. I’ve never met Tom, I’ve never seen him in person. I know he has a flat in Kingston, if that helps? He probably has homes all over the world, he’s Tom Bloody Holland, for christ’s sake …”

Leo turned his head over his shoulder, where he watched the feather quietly float down to the surface of the book.

“Hmmm … I’m not sure she believes you …”

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch scratch …

Sebastian laughed into his chest, his eyes still closed, one of two questions of his own now leaving a mouth arched into a laid back smile, “Why do you need to find him so bad anyway?” Sebastian asked, his toes curling as the slimy liquid gathered inside the fleshy gaps in-between, his second question delivered in the form of a tranquil murmur, “What lotion are you using?” He bit his upper lip, “Mnn, it feels incredible …”

Leo’s fingertips slid away from Sebastian’s right foot as the masked audience continued to watch on.

He stood and made his way towards the book, a nearby Horned Devil shuffling towards him, handing Leo a towel, allowing Leo to dry his hands clear of the oily substance.

He peered down over the pages and smiled.

“It’s not lotion,” Leo informed, “It’s salted ointment … “ he handed the towel back to The Horned Devil, “… My friends are addicted to it …” his smile turned into a smirk.

Sebastian’s eyes snapped open.

He shuffled forwards, his feet now suddenly transformed from the ordinary objects he stared over moments ago, to pieces of restrained meat, an appalled, “—What?—” bluntly leaving his mouth as the mention of ‘friends’ caused him to become immediately stunned and beyond dumfounded.

Leo didn’t read out the words ‘tickle’ and ‘feet’ that the feather had just written down. He wanted Sebastian to come to terms with the next part of the production, to understand the severity, the level of upcoming animalistic focus his feet were about to endure; he wanted the audience to gasp loud, to stand on tip toes, to discuss the excitement over what would happen next, three things he predicted they would do straight away as soon as the barn doors reopened.

As expected, the guests within the crowd began to feverishly discuss their delirium in the form of agitated whispers. The only person who could not contain their joy was Andrew, who shot his fist into the air and yelled out an impressed, “Holy shit, DiCaprio! You’ve out done yourself, man!”

Every guest in the crowd turned around to face the presence that had just entered the barn; Joe carefully removed his mask and dropped it to the floor, his open mouth and amazed expression now entirely on show. Sebastian tried to sit up, so he could see what was walking through the middle of the crowd, a crowd who had started to part down the middle, just like they had done when Leo had first entered the barn.

From his position on the throne, he could now make out two sets of horns standing high above the audience, confirming to him that another two Horned Devils would be joining the production. They walked slowly, side by side, and as each guest continued to step aside and create a natural pathway towards the throne, Sebastian made out another two sets of horns …

They were not made of plastic, nor were they black or part of a mask; they were a grainy brown and instead protruded from the heads of two knee high sized, white furred goats who trotted through the crowd, leather collars around each of their necks, a leash held by each Horned Devil, both carefully walking each goat towards Sebastian’s salty, wet soles …

“Baaaaaaa! Baa—aaaaa! Baaaa—aaaa!”

Sebastian pressed his lips shut as he watched the goats arrive at his feet, The Horned Devils tugging at the leashes so that the goats did not take a hoofed step closer, their tongues already poking out of their mouthes, their damp noses already picking up the scent of salt; Sebastian’s eyes were wide open, unblinking, his entire body stiff and alert as he very quickly tried to make sense of the sight before him, a sight so insane, so utterly weird, so unexpected that it reduced Sebastian into something he had so far avoided becoming all evening …

… Sebastian became speechless.

As everyone in the audience watched on with jaws wide open, The Horned Devils let both goats off the leash.

Sebastian had spent all evening throwing his torso forwards and thrashing his upper body from left to right; he had vigorously wiggled his slim arms so much that they had started to throb with a dull ache, he had kicked his hairy legs, bent his boney knees, thrashed his elbows and protruded his chest, but right now, all Sebastian could do, all he wanted to do, was squirm his feet from side to side in a beyond desperate attempt to pull his big toes out from their individual loops of string. Freeing his feet from this mini form of bondage would allow him to at least twist his feet away from the long tongues and sharp teeth that belonged to the goats now trotting rather speedily towards his soles.

However, no matter how robustly he tried to tug his big toes free, no matter how hard he clenched his teeth, no matter how tightly he curled his fists into balls, no matter how many grunts or frustrated groans he delivered, his big toes remained fixed back to the stocks, his size nine and a half’s remained restricted and still, the bottoms of his soles remained pinned into place, resulting in two salty-soaked expanses of flesh that had been perfectly positioned for the goats to enjoy, a circumstance Sebastian quickly realised had been set up several steps ahead of his own expectations.

No begging or pleading left Sebastian’s mouth as the goats finally arrived at his feet; there was no vocalised disbelief, no muttering, mumbling or maddened cries. Sebastian continued to be as he was as soon as the goats had entered the barn: completely and entirely speechless. There were no words, no way to describe how he felt, how it felt, to have two goats begin to lick both of his soles at the same time, a highly ticklish sensation unlike anything he had ever felt before in his life now working its way into the sensory overload segment of his brain.

He squeezed his eyes shut and arched his back; all ten of his fingers stretched out, all ten of his toes curled into a clench; he tried to push his feet forward, he tried to twist them to the left and then to the right, the tightly bound string around each big toe doing an exceptionally successful job at keeping his feet in place.

He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth and kicked his legs, his mind trying to figure out if this was torment because it tickled so much, or if it was torment because it felt so undeniably deranged to have this happen to him. On top of that muddled mindset, he also had the recognition of all of the new realisations that were landing in his head; how invasively sharp and dry the goats tongues were, how they were not wet at all, they were almost like sandpaper, sliding, curling around his heels, toes and the sides of his feet as they licked up the salty, oily substance saturating his soles. The touch was aggressive and constant, as if all that mattered to the goats was consuming every last bit of the ointment till there was nothing left, a determined and ravenous effort made by creatures Sebastian wished were people.

He knew he had been consumed by the night as soon as he had wished that wish; willing for people instead of goats told him how stuck he was, how vulnerable his position had made him; he was between a rock and a hard place, with no choice but to endure the rock whilst hoping for the hard place - but that moment did not come. Instead, the goats continued to lick his soles from heel to toe, his feet unable to writhe in a way he would want them to when receiving such unwanted attention to his body from the ankle down, they could only twitch and flex, the string squeaking under the immense strength Sebastian forced into the muscles making up his feet, his teeth still clenched, his eyes still squeezed shut, his toes still scrunched, protecting their silky lengths from tongues now forcing they way in-between …

Sebastian’s eyes widened and laughter erupted out of his throat as soon as the tongues infiltrated his toes, —”NO! AGH! GRAH! AGH! AHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAH!—oh my god no, please, please get them off of me!—GRAH! AGAHAHAHA! AGHAHAHAHA! AGAHAHAHAAH! AGAHAHAHA!—no! no! no! no! get these bloody goats away from my feet!—” their firmness and durability, their snake like movement was enough to work their way in-between, around, over and under each of Sebastian’s toes no matter how hard he clenched them, the ultra ticklish sensation often causing him to flex them out regardless of how much he wanted to protect their individual, ticklish shapes, an uncontrollable act that he had no choice in actioning, “—oh my god, no, no, no, pleasepleaseplease I’m begging you I’ll do anything, anything, please, please, please, listen to me, listen to me, I, I can’t stand this, get them off of me, get them away from my feet!—” Sebastian threw his head back and whined into the ceiling, almost throwing a temper tantrum at the sight of the audience in the barn, at Joe, at Leo and The Horned Devils, who refused to assist him in his joyous suffering, who all just stood there, watching, cheering, staring, admiring, some may as well be drooling at how much he could not take this, at the sight of the layer of sweat now forming over his chest as the goats continued to lick, suck, slurp and now nibble at the bottoms of his feet …

Sebastian threw his head forward, a hysterical groan forcing its way out of a throat thick and full with lunacy, his face now bright pink, his cheeks puffy and swollen, his eyes glazing over …

“—STOP!—” he began to panic at the feeling of blunt teeth scraping against his heels, his arches, the balls of his feet, “—STOP, PLEASE, STOP—” he now yelled, quite ferociously, almost demanding this to end as the alarm in his brain grabbed both of his shoulders, stared him directly in the eye and told him, ‘these goats are going to chew on your feet all night, and it will tickle in more ways you can begin to imagine’ … Sebastian shot impatient, flustered looks at Leo and the people in the audience, his scowl shooting away from them and up to the steel clamp securing his wrists to the top of the throne as he giggled uncontrollably, laughing breathlessly, his arms trying to tug and pull his hands free, the nibbling and chewing taking place around the bottoms of his feet informing Sebastian that the goats would resort to biting if it meant successfully retrieving every single spec of salty ointment from his buttery soft soles, “—FUCK!—” Sebastian swore for the first time this evening, his cursing evidence that this really had reached new heights of ticklishness, “—ALRIGHT, OKAY, IT REALLY, REALLY TICKLES, COME ON—” he announced his feelings in a statement, as if providing such clarity to the surrounding crowd would satisfy them enough for one guest to maybe stand up and say ‘that’s enough, he’s had enough, let him go’, however nobody did so, not even Joe, an act that Sebastian, in the midst of his tickle terror, made sure he would never forget.

Sebastian’s perfectly shaped, intensely ticklish size nine and a half’s almost clapped together, if it were not for his toe ties; they were so unbelievably desperate to escape the touch of the goats teeth and tongues that they practically stretched their shape into an always changing distorted flex, the determination in Sebastian’s face now so creased and sweat-riddled that perspiration had begun to roll down the sides of his head in the form of tiny droplets. Such a sight made the likes of Andrew and Brad within the audience want to make their way towards the throne, where they too could inflict their own methods of tickle torture, whilst Sebastian endured the goats hunger for salt.

Maybe Brad could return a dedicated focus to those hyper sensitive nipples? Maybe Andrew could comb his fingers through each of Sebastian’s thick curls of armpit hair, protruding so confidently from each underarm? Their desires to be part of the production would never see the light of day. This was Leo’s night, and Leo’s night only - other dominant ticklers here had been briefed on that, they had respected the terms of the show - this evening, they were just guests, enthusiastic watchers, fans of what they were all currently witnessing …

And what a sight it was to behold! The goats were now retrieving salt from the middles of Sebastian’s soles, transforming the twenty one year old into a bewildered, out of control example of an individual tickled so hard and so beyond anything he had ever understood that no actual sound came out of his mouth, despite his jaw being stretched wide open, despite the crows feet either side of his wide open eyes, despite his neck being so stuffed with delirium that veins thickened either side of his throat; he had laughed so much that he had no more breath to heave in and produce noise, he just expelled energy until his lungs physically had to suck in oxygen, his body going from stiff to slumped, — heaaaaaaave — where it would go back to stiff, mindless giggles and head shaking suggesting to the crowd that he really had no idea how to handle a unique and one of a kind circumstance he never in his wildest dreams thought he would be forced to handle.

It did not arrive as a form of reassurance at the time, mostly because nobody thought to inform Sebastian of the minor but important detail, but his moment with the goats would be limited; there could only be so much salt, so much ointment, so much slippery substance for each animal to devour. Eventually, they would just graze after consuming literally every inch of Sebastian’s feet, to the point where they would become bored, now simply sniffing Sebastian’s soles and licking every other second at his bulbous heels, reducing Sebastian from a high alert and worried squirmer to a sweaty, exasperated shambles that could finally allow his weight to drop into the throne, as the goats trotted away and began to chew on the grass scattered across the landscape of the barns floor.

“Th, thank god,” Sebastian panted, as if he had run several rounds through the field outside, “Th, thank god,” he huffed, his toes curling away the vibrating sensation still present after two invasive tongues had worked their way so hungrily through the in-betweens, “Th, thank god,” he repeated, his soles now completely clean of ointment.

As the audience cheered Sebastian, Leo stepped forwards and made his way towards Sebastian’s feet.

“… My turn … ” he grinned.

Sebastian jolted within the throne before Leo could even lay his hands on him, an arduous, ambitious and assertive, “—WAIT WAIT WAIT!—” leaving the very depths of his chest in the form of an ordering roar, its delivery so adamant and commanding that it made Leo stop in his tracks, it made the audience fall silent, it made the two goats baaaaaaaa-ing in the background lift their heads and blink at Sebastian in shock.

The feather floated above the book, waiting to write its next instruction, the ink that made up the words ‘tickle’ and ‘feet’ still drying …

“My, my feet are way more ticklish than I thought they’d be,” Sebastian admitted, “Like, way, way, way more ticklish …” he felt reluctant in his confession, but at this stage in the game he had no choice but to address his physical and mental concerns, his worries and anxieties regarding what would happen next overwhelming him entirely, “… I, I need a glass of water! Or, or a glass of wine! N, no more goats, right? They’re going soon, ri, right?” He chuckled into a chest shining with sweat, “Pl, please? Please … How long is this even going on for?” He moaned.

Leo folded his arms quietly as the candles around him continued to flicker.

“Till you tell us where Tom is,” Leo shrugged, “It’s as simple as that,” he nodded at the nearest Horned Devil, who started to make their way towards the bar, “This was never meant to be an investigation, kid. But that’s what she turned it into. That’s what she wants. So, I’ll ask again … Where is he?”

Sebastian threw his head back and scowled a look of irritation at the barns ceiling, growling his response through gritted teeth, “—I told you—” he hissed, throwing his head forwards, his scowl now aimed at Leo, “—Idon’tfuckingknowwhereTomis!—” he spat all at once, his fists and toes clenching hard, “—Just, just stop tickling me! Please, please stop tickling me! Tickle, tickle someone else! Tickle Joe, Joe Locke, over there!—” Sebastian giggled feverishly as he nodded over at Joe, unable to use his hands to point, many guests within the crowd turning to look at Joe, who now stood rather worried, taking one step back, two steps back, three steps back until he felt his shoulders press against the chest of a tall and powerful Horned Devil standing right behind him.

Joe gulped as he looked up at his black, shining, expressionless masked face.

Leo turned to look at Joe, his arms still folded. The young man presented himself in the opposite way to Sebastian; instead of cocky and self assured he appeared shy and self doubting, instead of loud and reactive, he was quiet and more interested in ducking beneath the crowd instead of standing tall above it.

“Oh, believe me,” Leo smirked, “I’d love to get my hands on your friend, I’m sure a lot of people here tonight would pay a lot of money to simply run their fingertips down the soles of his feet … But he isn’t locked up in that throne, you are,” Leo turned to look back at Sebastian, “He isn’t The Chosen One … You are …” he unfolded his arms, taking his time in walking towards Sebastian’s soles, “… He’ll get his time to shine in a moment, but for now, the spotlight is on you, kid …”

The Horned Devil returned from the bar with a tall pint of water in his right hand; he arrived beside Sebastian and carefully placed it against Sebastian’s lips.

Sebastian kept his eyes on Leo as he smiled knowingly, his mouth opening, The Horned Devil tilting the glass so that the cold liquid could pour into his throat, some of it spilling down his jaw and over his chest, a comforting feeling, considering how warm he felt.

Sebastian pulled his head away from the glass and swallowed down the water, wiping his chin against his left shoulder as The Horned Devil stepped away.

“You’re aware that’s a pretty obvious slip, right?” Sebastian smugly repeated words Leo had thrown at him almost thirty minutes ago.

Leo’s eyelashes fluttered shut as he realised he had been caught out.

“Damn,” he arrived at the stocks, his right hand curling around Sebastian’s left foot, “You’re cleverer than you look,” he massaged it at first, cupping his heel with his palm, only to then drag his fingernails up Sebastian’s left sole.

Sebastian kicked his left leg and leaped up, “—You know what happens next! She isn’t in control, y-you are!—” Sebastian huffed, his left foot twisting from side to side so hard and so suddenly that it had, much to Sebastian, Leo and the crowds surprise, managed to pull free from the loop of string no longer securing his big toe, “—AH! AHAHA!—” Sebastian’s reactions to the tickling were mixed with the reactive relief of his foot now able to scrunch and twist, flex and stretch away from Leo’s touch, however his high pitched “—AH! AHAHAHA!—” converted into a furious snarl, “—GRAGHH HA, GRAH HA! Mnn! Mnn!—”, as Leo quite effortlessly picked up the loop of string, pinched hold of Sebastian’s big toe and then, much to Sebastian’s distress, re-fixed his big toe back into position, “—GRAHH! AGH! No! No! No!—” Sebastian tried to twist his foot free again, but Leo’s ten fingernails landing on both soles at once distracted Sebastian entirely, his discovery exiting his throat in the form of a hearty bellow, “—There is no she! Thehehehehehe hehehehe—ahahahahahaha ahahahahaha ahahahaha — AGH! AGAHAHAHAAHAHA AGAHAHAHAHA IS NO SHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE!”—

“—Of course there is! Don’t be a dumbass!” Leo felt eager to provide proof towards his claim as he tickled both of Sebastian’s feet, “How else do you think that feather is hovering in the air? How else do you think it’s writing shit down with nobody touching it?”

Leo clocked a weak spot on Sebastian’s soles almost immediately; nudging his thumb nails into both of his arches seemed to be an effective method, as soon as he started doing it, Sebastian began to scream out his hysteria, his face creased with lunacy, his mouth wide open and never closing, his eyes bulging out of his head as he howled out his shrieks in the form of piercing shrills, “—LEO! LEO, NO! NO! PLEASE, PLEASE, OH MY GOD, STOP!—” he could barely take it, for more than a second, the physicality of Leo’s fingernails tickling over his arches too much to handle, far worse than the bluntness of the goats teeth or sandy sharpness of their tongues, “—LEO! LEO! LEO! PLEASE, OH! OH! OHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHA! AHAAHAHAHA! GRAH! GRAH! GRAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAAHA! Oh! Oh please! Please, come on I can’t take it! Please, let me breathe, let me breathe! Oh, please, it’s too much! Oh! Ohhhh!—” Sebastian’s eyes boiled down to the lower half of his torso, “—My, my stomach hurts! Oh god, I can’t breathe, please! my stomach hurts!—”

Joe took a confident step forward, where he planned to barge past the crowd, step onto the empty space around the throne and shove Leo away from Bash, but as his right foot planted down over the dry, grassy ground, he felt two large hands from The Horned Devil behind him curl around both of his arms and hold him in place.

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch scratch …

Leo slowed down his tickling as he heard the feather scribble another instruction over the open book; he used his index finger to draw circles around Sebastian’s arches, allowing the young man to steady his breathing whilst still enduring a teasing touch over one of his most ticklish areas, his feet still twisting and writhing, his toes still curling and flexing into a maddened splay, the big toe ties still keeping his feet fixed in place.

Sebastian’s laughter subsided. It went from hefty, commanding laughter to breathless giggles, his teeth clamping down over his lower lip, his torso wiggling from side to side as Leo persisted in tickling his feet lightly whilst The Horned Devils acknowledged something important: Leo’s lust for Sebastian’s level of ticklishness. The Hollywood actor could clearly not pull himself away from Sebastian’s soles. The Horned Devils were fully aware of that. Maybe it was how Sebastian’s feet moved, or how his little toes flexed out with every scratch applied to his arch, or perhaps it was their shape, the glossiness of their bottoms, the grainy-ness in his giggling and the way he whined a, “—please, please, please, please—” with such dedication within his tone. The reasons for Leo’s inability to stand up and turn away, walk towards the book and read out the next directive were endless, so much so that one of The Horned Devils had to do it for him.

The tallest of the bunch soldiered towards the stump and peered over the book as the floating feather continued to bob in the air, the awaiting crowd eager to discover what Sebastian would be made to endure next; there had been the chill of ice over his body, relentless pit tickling, an extreme focus to his underarms and then his nipples, there had been goats starving for the taste of salt over his feet and now Leonardo drawing circles over his arches, non stop and without mercy, this entire production starting with a goal to naturally laugh as hard as possible, where it then evolved into a form of interrogation, where Sebastian was made to answer a question he apparently did not have the answer to.

The Horned Devil turned to face the throne.

“Toes,” he said.

Sebastian roared out another, “—WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—” his levels of patience now at a minimum as he leaped up, a fierce glare forced down to Leo, who slid his fingernails away from Sebastian’s soles, “—Give me a second—” he requested, his chest lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping, as he allowed his mind to deal with the idea of his toes being tickled, a concept he realised he might be able to handle, especially as the focus would now be away from the middle of his feet, “—Please, let me catch my breath—” he huffed, his head dropping over his torso in a defeated hang, the audience, Leo and Joe very much surprised to still see a willingness in Sebastian to perform, even if he did not know where Tom was, even if he did hold the opinion that this ‘production’ should conclude sooner rather than later, for his own selfish sake, “—I can do toes—”, he declared, nodding quickly, “—Tickle my toes, bloody tickle my toes! Just leave the bottoms of my feet alone—” he panted, shaking his head even quicker, “—I can’t take it there, my, my soles are too ticklish—” he admitted, his voice coarse, his laughter still present in the form of sniggers and chortles, his entire structure saturated in doubt and dire uncertainty, “—When does this end?—” he asked again, “—What, what time is it?—”

Leo stood and walked back to The Horned Devil still holding the tray containing the electric toothbrushes.

“I told you. It ends when you tell us where Tom is,” he reminded Sebastian, his voice calm and gentle; he felt very aware of how infuriating it must feel to be asked something you do not know the question to, but Leo was following orders, he himself had no choice in the matter, she had picked Sebastian, she had asked the question. So, he picked up both electric toothbrushes and pulled off the part of the tool that made up the neck and the spinning, bristle covered tip. Now he stood holding two plastic cylinders with on and off buttons located in their middle, with a needle, spine-like nib protruding out from each device.

When Leo pressed the on button — click! Bzzzzzzz — the metal stick vibrated and spun. This was the part of the electric toothbrush that made the bristled end whizz, if it were reconnected to the device. Leo chose to keep the metal stick exposed, where he then knelt down beside Sebastian’s feet with the determined intention to make Sebastian not be able to handle having his toes tickled, unlike his previous, rather confident statements suggested.

“—What, what are you doing!—” Sebastian whined, his torso stretching forwards, “—What are you doing!—” He whined again, this time with more panic in his tone, “—No! Don’t do that! No, don’t do that! Oh my god, please, please don’t do that, that, that’s going to kill me!” He spat, his eyes widening at the sight of two vibrating needles whizzing towards his toes; the left toothbrush journeying towards the five toes of his left foot, the right toothbrush journeying towards the five toes of his right foot, “—Oh no! Oh, oh no! No! No! No! No! That’s going to kill me!—” He repeated, “—Please, Leo, no! That’s going to bloody kill me!—”

“—I thought you said you could handle having your toes tickled?” Leo cocked an eyebrow, the left vibrating nib landing at the base of Sebastian’s left index toe, causing Sebastian to expel a girlish shriek, “Your words were, ‘I can do the toes’, you even said so yourself,” Leo adopted a British accent, “… ‘Tickle my toes, tickle my bloody toes!’ … Well, kid, that’s what I’m doing …” the right vibrating nib landed at the base of Sebastian’s right pinkie, where Leo then travelled both sharp, buzzing, needle-like sticks around all of Sebastian’s toes, transforming Sebastian into a giggling, screaming mess that had no choice but to watch the tickle tools work their way in, around, between, over and under his long, fleshy, curling digits.

“—I thought you’d just use your fingers!—” Sebastian cried, “—Use your fingers! Use your bloody fingers!—” Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and shrieked out screams as the buzzing sharpness of the nib whizzed and dragged around his toes; no matter how hard he clenched them, no matter how much they flexed, the nib found its way in, often hitting hyper sensitive spots on Sebastian’s toes that Sebastian was not even aware were ticklish; the plump and juicy ends, “—AAAAAGHHHHHHHH!—” the long and fleshy lengths, “—AAAAAGHHHHHHHH!—”, the silky soft betweens, “—AAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH!—”, and the smoothness of each toe’s base, “—AAAAAAAAGHHHHHH!—”, Sebastian lifted his eyebrows into a overwhelmed crease as he continued to giggle and giggle and giggle and giggle, his mouth never closing, his adam’s apple bobbing repeatedly, his screams arriving every time both needle-like nibs buzzed over an area that was a sensory-surprise to Sebastian.

“Where’s Tom?” Leo repeated, now holding both toothbrushes in one hand, keeping them side by side together, using his other hand to hold Sebastian’s right foot in place, “Come on, kid, where is he, where’s Tom?” Leo narrowed his eyes in focus as he journeyed the vibrating, buzzing nibs over a toe that looked the softest; Sebastian’s big toe.

Sebastian leaped up once, twice, three times, the throne shaking under his weight as his screams became shouts, his big toe the perfect toe to tickle thanks to its glossy, velvety exterior, not to mention the fact that it was also pinned into place by a thick loop of string, making that toe far more accessible compared to the four curling, scrunching digits beside it.

Tickling a toe that ticklish caused Sebastian’s survival mode to shift back into focus. He would do absolutely anything for it to stop, stopping it was the most important thing in his life, in that very second. He breathed in hard and yelled out, “—OKAY I’LL TELL YOU IF YOU STOP—”

Leo persisted, the buzzing nibs, two at the same time, still dragging up and down Sebastian’s right big toe, causing a sensation deep behind Sebastian’s eyes that made them water, his mind falling numb at just how ticklish this part of the session felt, “How about I stop, when you tell me?” Leo suggested.

Sebastian threw his head back and howled out bellows of hysteria, his knees twisting into each other, his teeth clenching hard, his giggles and shouts now so filled with volume and vigour that the candle flames flickering within the barn momentarily increased in size, his grainy voice trying its hardest to communicate through the lunacy, “—I c, c, c cahahahahahahahaha-ahahahahaha-ahahahahaha! Ahahahaahahn’t ss, sss, sss, speee-eee-ee-eee-eee-eeek I cahahahahahahahahahahahaha-ahahahahahaha-ahahahahah-ahahahahan’t eeev, eeeev, even tahahahahahahahahahaha-ahahahahaha-ahahahahahah-aahahahahahalk!—”

“—You can’t even speak?” Leo translated to the crowd, “You can’t even talk? Alright, alright, there’s no point asking a question if we can’t hear the answer …” Leo slid the vibrating nibs away from Sebastian’s big toe and switched them off, —bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz click!

The heat within the barn had increased, the feather continued its taunting float, some guests within the audience had removed their masks and started to flap them beside their face, as a way to cool themselves down.

However, not one person in the crowd was as warm as Sebastian; he sat in the throne soaked with sweat, his golden, tanned, slim frame glistening with perspiration. His armpits sparkled, his cheeks shimmered, his stomach muscles bulged, his tiny abs now intensely defined due to how much he had laughed since being tickled throughout this lengthy production. He was out of breath, at a loss for words, physically and mentally worn out, but above all else, he was ready … Ready to confess.

“France,” Sebastian huffed, “He’s, he’s rented a, a hideout in pah, pah …” Sebastian gulped, “… Paris. I saw him there lah, lah, lah, last week,” he coughed.

Leo pursed his lips, massaging Sebastian’s big toe with his index finger and thumb.

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch …

Leo kept his eyes on Sebastian but directed his question to The Horned Devil standing beside the book, which had just received its latest word by a feather now floating above The Horned Devil’s hooded head.

“What has she written?”

Sebastian felt his body become riddled with nerves as the inside of the barn fell dramatically quiet, compared to the shouting, screaming and giggling that had filled its interior for the best part of ninety minutes.

“Liar,” The Horned Devil announced.

Several guests within the audience gasped.

Joe looked from side to side, his arms still held by The Horned Devil behind him.

Sebastian’s pressed together lips twisted out into a playful smile.

“Whoops,” he quipped.

Leo glared at Sebastian and placed his index fingernails over each of his soles.

“You’re gonna pay for that, kid …”

Sebastian leaped up from his seat quickly, his toes scrunching as soon as Leo’s touch arrived over his arches, “—Oh, am I!—” he smirked, “—You’re actually going to tickle my soles again, aren’t you!—” He adjusted himself within the seat, his feet curling inwards the best they could, Leo’s fingernails remaining present over the now sweaty bottoms of Sebastian’s feet, “—You’re actually going to do it, aren’t you! Oh no! Oh, come on! Please, Leo, ask me again! I’ll tell the truth, I promise, I, I, I’ll tell the—”

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch …

Sebastian dropped back into his seat, Leo’s index fingers still resting over his arches.

Leo didn’t have to ask this time; he simply moved the side of his face to the left and awaited The Horned Devils deep, monotone voice.

“Do you submit?”

Leo turned back to Sebastian, his index fingers now drawing circles over each of his arches.

“Well?”

Sebastian began to pant, his feet writhing from left to right as he arched his back and shuffled forwards, “What, what do you mean!” He whined, “Submit! What! What do you meeeeean!” He bit his lower lip and wriggled his feet, this time with such strength that he was successful at slipping free from the string, this time both big toes achieving freedom, “Ah! Ah! Ah!” Sebastian’s tongue wagged out of his mouth as his eyes widened, his feet now fully able to writhe and squirm away from Leo’s fingers, fingers that were too keen to inflict tickling instead of pinning back his toes for a second time.

“Do you submit?” The Horned Devil repeated.

Leo cocked an eyebrow at Sebastian.

Sebastian’s giggles started to increase, in strength and their level of squealish-ness, as Leo’s circle drawing speeded up, a detailed focus taking place on each arch, at the same time, non stop, “—What! What! What do you mean! No, come on! Seriously! No, I don’t submit! I don’t bloody submit! Oh, please, please, please—” Sebastian heaved out a long, steady, dedicated roll of laughter that had no pause for breath between, for at least ten to fifteen seconds, before he heaved in hard and expelled another ten to fifteen second long breathless giggle, his vision blurring, his feet aching at how much they were flaying from side to side, “—PLEASEJUSTSTOPTICKLINGME!—” He shrieked, his voice now so high pitched and filled with joyous alarm that it had started to no longer sound like his voice at all.

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch …

Leo’s fingernails left Sebastian’s soles as Sebastian’s weight sank back into the throne in a heavy bounce, his body stiff and rigid, his fists clenched, his eyes narrowing down to the stocks containing his ankles, his lungs immediately starting the understandably reactive effort to refill themselves with air.

“Man oh man, this is quite surely a Hallows Eve I am never going to forget …” Leo stood and turned towards the audience, their sweaty faces glowing orange thanks to the surrounding fairy lights and burning candles, “… What do we think, huh? Best Hallows Eve ever?” He raised his hands at the audience who all cheered and applauded Leo, Sebastian and the surrounding Horned Devils.

Leo walked towards the book and rolled up the sleeves to his shirt, peering down over the page as the feather hovered over him.

“Hm …” Leo stroked his chin, Sebastian’s heavy breathing filling the void of quiet, “… I didn’t think it could get much wilder … But …” Leo picked up the book and held the pages out to the audience, “… She has written the word, ‘suck’ …”

Sebastian’s head had hung over his chest for the last twenty seconds, but that single word caused his head to slowly lift, where his eyes scowled into Leo’s back.

The Horned Devil let go of Joe’s arms.

Joe, in a trance, began to slowly walk through the crowd in a slow and careful stride.

His eyes did not blink, his face did not move; his pupils, now big and glowing amber, stared directly at Sebastian’s soles, soles that were getting closer and closer and closer to Joe, the more steps he took towards the throne.

Sebastian pressed his back against his seat and began to move his feet from left to right.

“J, Joe …” Sebastian chuckled nervously, “… Wh, what are you, what are you doing …” he muttered quietly, his eyes shifting from side to side, “… Joe, don’t embarrass me …” he whispered in a hiss.

Joe left the front row of the audience and passed by Leo, not acknowledging him in the slightest, where he dropped down on his knees and began to crawl towards the throne, his face still completely expressionless, his eyes still unblinking, his crawl now taking him over the gothic foliage surrounding the bondage equipment where his face finally arrived inches away from Sebastian’s left foot.

“—Joe!—” Sebastian tried to pull himself forward, his left foot lifting away from Joe’s mouth, as Joe began to kiss Sebastian’s left sole, “—Joe! Joe! Oh my god, Joe!—” Sebastian’s shouts were drenched in astonishment, his mind unable to handle the sight of Joe’s tongue leaving his mouth, sliding up the bottom of his foot, where it reached his big toe, a big toe now consumed by Joe’s lips, “—Joe, Joe stop! Please, mate! What the fuck! What the fuck! What are you doing! What are you doing! Oh my god!—”

As Sebastian’s big toe was sucked on by a friend utterly possessed, Leo and the hundreds behind him could do nothing but watch on in awe.

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch …

“Heels …” The Horned Devil read.

“—Joe! Snap out of it!—” Sebastian held his breath as he tried to pull his arms free, giggles leaving flared nostrils the more Joe sucked on his big toe, Joe’s long, thick tongue curling around its base, consuming its shape, taking the entire toe completely, as if it were a lollipop, “—Joe! Joe, what are you doing! Grah! Grah-hahahaha! Hahahaha! Oh! Oh! Oh hahahahahahaha!—” Sebastian tugged and tugged and tugged on his arms, Joe now sucking on Sebastian’s big toe and index toe at the same time, his lips slurping over their fleshy lengths, his eyes still unblinking, his position still on all fours, “—Oh god, get off of me! Get off of me! Joe, get off of me!—” Sebastian whined, his eyes now landing on Leo who had started to make his way back to the stocks, “—You! You! You get away! Get away! Please, come on! Bloody hell this is insane! This is crazy! No, no, no, no, no, no, please, please, please!—” Leo took all ten of his fingernails and planted five over Sebastian’s left heel, five over his right, now scratching at their chunky build, furthermore sending Sebastian into an uncontrollable frenzy, his heels tickled by Leo, his toes sucked on by Joe, the feather now swooping back down to the book where it wrote out another word.

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch …

The Horned Devil peered over the pages.

“Armpits, too …” The Horned Devil read.

Sebastian watched The Horned Devil standing to the far right solider his way towards his upper body, “—No! You stay there! You stay there, please, please, please!—” he begged, The Horned Devil now positioning himself behind the throne where he removed his leather gloves and reached his bare hands around its structure, all ten of his fingertips arriving over Sebastian’s armpit, five fingers at his right armpit, five fingers at his left armpit, causing Sebastian to wiggle his arms and thrash his head from side to side, his face scrunched into a fierce expression, his legs kicking hard, his entire body now glistening in high levels of perspiration, “—What the fuck is this! What the fuck is this! Quick fire round? Get off of me, all of you! Please, please, please stop tickling me! Oh my god!—” Sebastian fell into a new real of delirium as The Horned Devil began to wiggle all ten of his fingers, stroking Sebastian’s underarms quickly, relentlessly, showing no mercy, just like Leo and Joe down at the bottom of the throne

… Scritch scratch scritch scratch …

“Arches, too …” The Horned Devil read.

Sebastian, now uncontrollably squirming from head to toe, felt his eyes bulge as he threw his head towards his lap, his mind willing him to say, ‘—What! Are you serious? You’re going to kill me!—’ but his chest, his breathlessness, the hysteria contained in his throat disabled him from doing so. He could now officially no longer speak. He had never been tickled like this before, he had never been touched by Joe like this before, he had never felt someone suck on his toes, he had never had his underarms tickled at the same time by a stranger, he had never had his heels scratched like this, ‘—FUCK—’, he thought, ‘—I had no idea my heels were even this ticklish!—’, and to make matters a whole lot worse, he now had a third tickler approach the throne in the form of another Horned Devil, this one under the strict instruction to focus on his heels, an act that reduced Sebastian into a submitting, mindless mess, as soon as The Horned Devil removed his gloves and began to pinch and stroke into the very centre of each of his soles.

The inability to beg, to plead, to ask for this to stop meant that Sebastian could only do one thing, and one thing only. Unable to shout his concerns or cry out his worries, all Sebastian could do was laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh, his entire body consumed by tickle torment; his feet were addressed from heel to arch to toe by now twenty fingers, ten belonging to Leo, ten belonging to a Horned Devil, his toes now soaked in Joe’s saliva as Joe continued to suck, lick, nibble and bite over their fleshy tips, The Horned Devil behind the throne wiggling his fingers deep within Sebastian’s armpits with relentless speed, informing ‘her’, ‘she’, ‘the spirit’ that Sebastian had basically submitted without verbally vocalising it. He sat there completely absorbed and overwhelmed by the amount of tickling his body currently endured, it was clear in his posture, in his face. He was no longer stiff and jolting, instead he sat slumped and twisted, a piece of meat existing in this moment in time as one slender ticklish toy that was stroked, poked, pinched and manhandled so much so that Sebastian had more or less given up, 'submitting’ himself to this ordeal entirely.

Such a submission, such passionate laughter, such energy releasing from Sebastian’s mouth did exactly what Leo had said it would do, back at the start of this session; it charged the feathers flight, it nudged it away from the book, where the feather swooped across the air and whistled around the throne, causing Leo to widen his eyes in wonder as the cheering, clapping, applauding crowd behind them continued to watch the finale of this production take place before them.

“It started as a test, to see if we could reach her,” Leo mumbled, mostly to himself, as he continued to tickle Sebastian’s heels, Joe still on all fours beside him, his mouth sucking on Sebastian’s left pinkie, “And then she turned it into an interrogation,” Leo whispered, above all of the shouting, the chanting, the laughing and the clapping, “And then it became punishment …” Leo gasped, piecing every development of the evening together as he watched the feather circle around the throne, where it eventually landed on Sebastian and began to flutter over his face, tickling a nose scrunching up, tickling lips pressing together hard, tickling a neck desperate to twist and stretch away, tickling pits already tickled by ten fingers at once, tickling nipples that were still erect from the electric toothbrushes, tickling a stomach tight with hysteria, tickling legs hairier than most grown mens legs inside this barn, tickling feet once devoured by the tongues of two goats at once …

The feather not only joined in on Sebastian’s torment, but it read Sebastian too. She, the force behind the feathers flight, delved deep within Sebastian’s psyche, his truth, his overall interior as well as his physical exterior, where it came to the conclusion that he did indeed have absolutely no idea where Tom was.

With that considered, the feather dropped to the throne as if it were never held in the air in the first place.

Leo watched it land on the seat, between Sebastian’s thrashing thighs, where it laid out still and no longer floating, ‘the spirit’ seemingly gone.

Joe blinked, his eyes crossing down to the thing inside his mouth: Sebastian’s right index toe.

He stumbled away in a desperate shuffle, “—Oh my god!—”, his booted heels scraping at the grassy floor until he finally arrived at the legs of the people in the front row.

Leo raised his hands, getting to his feet, clapping his palms together as he ordered all Horned Devils to stop tickling Sebastian.

“Enough! Enough!” He said, “She’s gone! She’s gone!”

The Horned Devil at Sebastian’s feet slid away, whilst The Horned Devil at Sebastian’s armpits slowed down his tickle and then stepped aside.

Sebastian sat more or less hanging from his wrist restraints, his eyes puffy, his chest heaving, his body tingling and throbbing from the force of a touch he had never expected to ever feel in his entire life.

He chuckled and wiped sweat from his lip by rubbing his face against his shoulder, “—Oh my god—” he sniffed, “—That was so cool!—” he yelled, “—That was, like, so fucking cool!—”

Joe staggered to his feet, his eyes still blinking, his jaw dropping slowly as he tried to make sense of what had just happened; Leo also stood in shock, his mouth shaping out words, the words not making their way past his lips due to his level of disbelief.

The crowd fell silent as all guests mumbled in confused discussion, some questioning if the production was real, some wondering how Leo had created something so believable, others deliberating when food would be served, after all, it had been a pretty lengthy session and the pizza on the table seemed to be going a little stale …

The barn fell entirely silent as Sebastian huffed, puffed and panted in the throne, his eyes trailing over his surrounding ticklers.

“Bloody hell!” He leaped up, “I have never experienced anything like that before! That was, that was—” he lifted his shoulders and scoffed, “—Genius, absolutely incredible work, honestly, I’m lost for words, really …” he looked at Leo, who was now slowly and carefully approaching him, a deep frown over the tops of his eyes, eyes that were focused in looking at the feather once flying by itself, a feather now sitting between Sebastian’s hairy legs, “… If I had my hands free, I’d be applauding you myself,” he glanced up at his wrists, “Speaking of which, can you uh, can you let me go now…” he watched Leo arrive at his side, “… Please?” He tensed his entire body and squeezed his eyes shut, readying himself for yet more tickling, as Leo reached towards him, “Oh, oh god, not again, please! I, I don’t think I can take any m—”

—As Leo pinched the tip of the feather between Sebastian’s legs, every single candle flicker within the barn ignited into a giant and ferocious flame.

—WHHHHHHOOOOOOOSSSSSHHHHH!

The audience ducked and screamed.

Sebastian buried his face into his chest.

Joe fell to his side.

Leo covered his face with his arm.

The Horned Devils remained still, the flames reflecting off the black plastic of their mask

The inside of the barn glowed a bright yellow as violent and explosive shoots of fire erupted from candles around the throne, candles on the food table, candles at the bar, candles on the floor …

Wine bottles and whiskey glasses blew up, pumpkins with ball gags strapped around their grins burst into dozens of oozy chunks, fairy lights and wires sparked and cut out, the invasive and sudden stench of burning filled noses within the crowd.

“Get out! Fire! Fire! Get out!” Cried a voice from within the panicking audience.

Masks were discarded, drinks were dropped.

A stampede of people mindlessly turned away from the thing they had been so intently invested in and made their way in a hurried rush towards the barn doors, doors that were now being kicked open, a cold air blowing inside, the October night time breeze doing nothing to calm the flames that had now attached themselves to the barns wooden pillars, the dry grassy floor, the beams and the gothic foliage that surrounded the throne.

Sebastian coughed and spluttered as people screamed around him; the flames were crackling towards his restrained body, transforming his mindset from alarmed to terrified within seconds.

“JOE!” Sebastian yelled, “JOE, HELP ME, JOE!” Sebastian pulled at his wrist restraints, he yanked his legs, he tried to squeeze his ankles through the tiny holes of the stocks, “SOMEONE, HELP ME, PLEASE!”

Joe made his way towards Sebastian, but he was knocked by a group, then he was shoved by a screaming passer by; he was barged to the floor and ran over by an onslaught of high heels and leather soles, “—No, stop! Let me through! Aghh!—” the crowds overwhelmed him as the barn filled with fire and black smoke, most of the guests making their way successfully out and onto the field.

Sebastian jolted as a young man wearing a leather harness, a dog collar attached to a leash and a devils mask arrived beside the throne. Whilst showcasing no hesitation and an extreme amount of courage, the young man climbed up the device and unhooked the latch at the side of the steel slab containing Sebastian’s wrists; Sebastian dropped his arms into his lap and then reached down towards his feet as he, and the masked stranger, both worked together in unlocking the stocks.

As soon as Sebastian was fully free, the masked stranger turned away and made a run for the barns front doors.

Sebastian jumped off the throne, his bare feet landing on the grass, his knees wobbly, his legs a little weak; he coughed and coughed, hiding his mouth with his hands, his eyes stinging as the fire continued to spread within the barn …

As a chunk of smoke was blown to the side and as almost all guests had made their escape, Sebastian caught sight of Joe on the floor, cradling his right arm, his mouth shouting out Sebastian’s name, but with all of the chaos, the running footsteps, the sound of sirens and the burning of wood surrounding him, Sebastian could not hear the cry leave Joe’s mouth.

Sebastian ran towards his friend, lifted him to his feet and dragged him away from the heat of the fire and into the dampness of the wet field outside as the flames crawled up the tree stump and licked their way over the book, its pages catching fire, all of the words written down this evening by a feather supposedly fuelled by hysteria now sizzling into nothing but amber and ash.

As the sun began to rise, Sebastian walked bare feet through damp grass, towards the open back of an ambulance.

Sitting on the edge was Joe, wrapped in a blanket, his cheeks stained with black smears.

Sebastian sat down so closely beside him that their shoulders rubbed.

Joe wrapped some of the blanket around Sebastian, who, like most of the evening, was still only dressed in his underwear.

Sebastian’s hair was messy and tangled, his eyes bloodshot, his skin still wet with sweat.

Joe’s arm was in a sling, after a heavier than usual masked guest ran over it during their escape from a barn now being hosed down by two fire trucks parked thirty feet away.

Together, they quietly watched the firemen aim the white shoots of water at flames still confidently roaring inside a wooden structure that looked ready to buckle and tumble.

“Don’t worry,” Sebastian kept his face angled towards the barn, but his words were directed at Joe, “I won’t tell anyone you sucked my toes.”

Joe blinked.

He turned to Sebastian and frowned, “What? I, I didn’t … I, I don’t …”

Sebastian smirked, tucking some hair behind his ears, nudging his friends side with his elbow.

“It’s alright, we all have our kinks … “

Joe lowered his head and glared worryingly into his lap; for him, there was no memory of him sucking Sebastian’s toes at all.

Sebastian, still convinced that everything this evening, besides the fire, was all one weird and wild show, allowed his smirk to shift into an excited grin.

“Do you think Leo will call? Do you think I did a good job?”

Joe lifted his uninjured arm and pointed at the barn.

“Our phones are in there, Bash.”

Sebastian threw his head back.

“Bollocks!” He huffed, “Right, I’m emailing these Horned Fuckers first thing in the morning. I’m sure their insurance will cover it.”

Joe watched some masked guests stagger through the field and back to the gate, ‘the Horned Fuckers’, the other celebrity names and Leo nowhere to be seen.

“Something tells me they contact you, Bash. I don’t think it works the other way round.”

Sebastian sighed, rubbing away a still present tingle over his left big toe.

A beat of silence landed between both boys as another ambulance arrived to treat some older guests who had inhaled too much smoke.

“I think he’s got a thing for tickling, you know,” Sebastian dropped his shoulders, “The whole set up was too—”

“—Oh, Bash,” Joe rolled his eyes, “He one hundred and fifty percent has a thing for tickling. I bet he tricks boys into this sort of thing every Halloween.”

Sebastian wiped some ash away from his left cheek as the firemen jumped back, a portion of the barn crumbling into sparks of sparkling amber.

“I don’t know why he waits for Halloween. I’d offer myself up to him any day …”

Joe chuckled in disbelief.

“You’ve come away very humble and modest, after all this, haven’t you, Bash …” Joe’s tone was soaked in sarcasm.

Sebastian, oblivious to Joe’s remark, continued to stare into the barn as he smiled to himself in satisfaction.

“I have to admit, the ‘where’s Tom’ thing was a little strange …”

Joe nodded slowly as he joined Sebastian in simply watching the fire, which had now reduced into a thick bellow of black smoke now rolling up into a pinkish orange sky.

“Did you tell them?” Joe asked, “I can’t remember, the whole evening was a bit of a blur, like I was under some kind of spell.”

Sebastian hooked his heels over the bumper of the ambulance and wrapped the blanket around his hairy legs.

“No. I promised him I’d keep it a secret,” Sebastian’s smile faded as he pressed his lips together determinedly, “I’m good at that,” he said.

Joe smiled at Sebastian; after his self assured performance and cocky attitude towards the past four hours, it felt good to see him remain loyal at least.

“You are. You know something else, Bash? You’re a bloody good actor. They believed you, from what I recall.”

Sebastian blushed.

“I try.”

More sounds of approaching sirens, more bellows of smoke and shoots of water into fire, as Sebastian and Joe continued to watch the smouldering barn.

“The paramedics said they’d take us home …” Joe’s nostrils flared as he shuffled closer to his best friend, “… Can we … Can we go home?”

Sebastian looked down at Joe’s quivering lower lip and then wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his chest where he squeezed him hard.

“Let’s go home,” he said, kissing the top of Joe’s head …

… As the answer to ‘where’s Tom’ remained unknown, just as Sebastian had intended.

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