HARRY’S HOUSE …
Louis lay naked, tied to Harry’s bed in the starfish position.
He was gagged with his own smelly sock, where he screamed out his hysteria in the form of muffled cries.
“MPPHHHH! MPPHHHH! MPHHHHH!”
Taped to the inside of each of his thighs were two electric toothbrushes.
Their vibrating, spinning bristles had been positioned expertly by Harry, so that the whizzing tips could just about press against Louis’ taint.
As Louis bucked and bounced over the mattress, Harry sat in an armchair he had purposefully placed in the middle of his giant bedroom.
His legs were crossed casually at the ankle; he wore a pair of black boxer shorts only, his skin glowed in the sunlight beaming through the windows, his tattoos proudly on show, his fingernails and toenails painted an electric yellow …
He had placed another armchair directly opposite him.
Harry faced the empty armchair, and behind that, the open door of his bedroom.
He rested his head in his hands as he propped his elbows over his knees.
“Quiet, Tomlinson!” Harry yelled, “He’ll be here any minute …”
Foot steps started to make their way up the steps outside of Harry’s bedroom as Louis continued to scream into his sock, the electric toothbrushes fully charged and showing no sign of running out of battery for at least another two hours …
The Masked Tickler walked slowly into Harry’s bedroom, his booted feet creaking over the floor boards …
He wore a black leather jacket, a black roll neck, black cargo pants …
… His face concealed by an oval, white plastic mask.
“Long time no see, handsome,” Harry smirked, nodding at the armchair opposite him, “Take a seat.”
The Masked Tickler paused at first, his eyes taking in the sight of Louis Tomlinson squirming over the mattress, his thick thighs and thrashing arms bound to the bed by white rope …
He then walked around the armchair and sat down, folding his legs at the knee, mirroring Harry’s position.
“Calling on us for a third time, Mr. Styles …” The Masked Tickler spoke quietly, “You’re making a habit of this …”
Harry lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug, never taking his eyes off of The Masked Tickler’s mask.
“It’s about time I did things my way,” Harry quipped.
The Masked Tickler kept still, his face always front on, his body hardly moving.
“I hear you want another session,” The Masked Tickler said, “This time, without any gain. Why would you want to put yourself through such torture, if you don’t receive any—”
“—I don’t want to be the ticklee,” Harry interrupted, “I want to be the tickler …”
The Masked Tickler remained silent.
Only Louis muffled screams and the buzzing from the electric toothbrushes were the sound within Harry’s Los Angeles mansion.
“I have something … Big … That you could be a vital part of,” The Masked Tickler licked his lips behind his mask, “Something … You may enjoy.”
Harry cocked an eyebrow.
“Do tell …”
The Masked Tickler shook his head.
“Not so fast,” The Masked Tickler patted his lap, “Give me your left foot …”
Harry slumped back in his armchair, grinning mischievously.
“No,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
The Masked Tickler tilted his head.
“Do you want to be a part of the most insane event in the world of knismolagnia, or not?”
Harry felt his heart race as Louis’ sock gagged grunts continued behind him.
He unfolded his arms and slowly lifted his left foot, carefully placing it in The Masked Tickler’s lap.
The Masked Tickler looked down at Harry’s foot; his neatly painted toe nails, the smooth expanse of tanned skin that made up the top, the creamy, silky white flesh that made up his sole … The tattoo at the bottom of his shin …
He gently pinched Harry’s left big toe.
“This little piggy went to the market …” The Masked Tickler whispered.
Harry bit his upper lip.
“This little piggy went home …” The Masked Tickler stroked Harry’s index toe …
Harry’s eyelashes fluttered as his eyes closed shut.
“This little piggy had roast beef …” The Masked Tickler pinched Harry’s middle toe …
Harry ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth.
“And this little piggy had none …” The Masked Tickler stroked Harry’s second to last toe …
Harry opened his eyes and flared his nostrils as all five of his toes curled …
He readied himself for The Masked Tickler to finish the rhyme, to tickle his foot, to violate one of the most ticklish parts of his body, quite possibly the most ticklish part of his body …
The Masked Tickler stroked Harry’s left little toe.
Harry winced and tried to pull his foot back but The Masked Tickler snatched hold of his ankle …
“… And this little piggy went wee, wee, wee, all the way home!” The Masked Tickler growled, as he used all the fingernails of his right hand to scritch and scratch around Harry’s left pinkie.
Harry kicked his leg forcefully, his mouth stretching open as he reached forwards and grabbed The Masked Tickler’s hands—
“—Not there!” Harry hissed, “Not that toe!”
Harry continued to kick as The Masked Tickler persisted in tickling his little toe, creating a sensory overload within Harry that caused him to arch his back, huff and pant, until he finally managed to yank his foot out of The Masked Tickler’s grasp.
Harry tucked both of his feet under him as he fell back down into the seated position.
The Masked Tickler adjusted his mask and then cleared his throat, placing both hands gently down on each arm of the chair.
“Here’s the deal,” he declared, “You can become a tickler. Maybe one of the best we’ve seen. But you have to spend time learning how to become that. So, you’ll spend a week with me. I’ll tickle you in all the ways I know how, ways that you would’t think could be possible, and you’ll take note of what drives you insane. And then you can pass those methods onto a ticklee of your choice, one that isn’t Louis …”
Harry stroked the stubble of his chin, his intent silence showcasing how much he was listening.
The Masked Tickler continued.
“… Your ticklee must be another member of One Direction—” The Masked Tickler held up his index finger as he watched Harry sit forwards in interest, “You can pick between Liam, Niall or Zayn. Whoever you choose will spend just three days with you. You can tickle them however you like, whenever you like. The chosen ticklee will be your tickle slave. You must use the skills you’ve learned from our sessions to the test, and then when the three days are done, you don’t only get to become one of us, but you get to be a part of something extraordinary … Something that will change everything, forever.”
Harry used the fingers of his right hand to rub away the tingle still present around his left little toe.
“I have someone in mind,” Harry narrowed his eyes as he stared towards the window, “I’m not sure if he’ll play along, though.”
The Masked Tickler smiled behind his mask.
“He won’t have a choice. You of all people should know by now that we have a way of getting what we want into position. Besides, it’ll be a small price to pay, for being involved in something you, I … The world … Will never forget.”
Harry’s excitement for this mystery event overshadowed any guilt or dread he felt, when it came to thinking about putting one of his best friends in such a intense and bizarre situation …
Harry turned over his shoulder to look at Louis, who was now so traumatised by the electric toothbrushes working his taint that his eyes had started to water.
Harry acknowledged how much he enjoyed being out of the bondage, how much he devoured the taste of control …
He turned to The Masked Tickler and held out his hand.
“I’ll do it.”
The Masked Tickler’s hands remained planted over each arm of the chair.
“You’ll need to make a list of the bondage equipment, devices and tools required. We have a large archive of instruments with one of our ticklers in New Yo—”
Harry kept his hand hovering in the space between he and The Masked Tickler.
“—I’ll get a list to you by end of today.”
The Masked Tickler lifted his hand and slowly extended it towards Harry’s.
It curled around Harry’s hand and shook it firmly.
“Then let’s get you in my dungeon,” The Masked Tickler smirked, “We’ve got some work to do.”
‘THREE DAYS AT HARRY’S HOUSE' STARRING HARRY STYLES AND A SOON TO BE NAMED TICKLEE FROM ONE DIRECTION, IS COMING SOON …
READ MORE ABOUT HARRY STYLES AT ‘HOW HARRY WON HIS GRAMMY’