Orlando's Awakening, Part Four - 'The Annihilation'

J O S H U A ‘S S E C O N D T E S T - ‘ T R U T H ‘

Johnny and Joshua swapped places.

Johnny knelt in the hotel room next door, his hands bound behind his back, The Masked Tickler working a toothbrush around his lips, mouth, chin and jaw whilst Joshua sat on the bed in the original hotel room, his feet locked in the same stocks Johnny’s feet had been secured in moments ago.

Just like with Johnny, Joshua’s wrist restraints had been detached, allowing him to move his arms and hands around freely.

The first thing Joshua did was tidy up his curls; The Masked Tickler had tweaked his nipples, nibbled on his right heel and manhandled his neck for a good five minutes, causing Joshua to thrash his head around madly, therefore messing up his thick head of hair.

He then narrowed his eyes at Peter, who stood at the corner of the bed with a hairbrush in one hand and a bottle of baby oil in the other.

“You’re not gonna tie my toes back?” Joshua leant back on his arms, much like how Johnny had leaned, suggesting that the two of them moved and behaved in more similar ways than Peter had expected.

Peter spun the hairbrush in his hand as if it were a pistol.

“You underestimate how incredible your feet look at this angle when they’re freely squirming around. Your toes, especially, shape themselves in such a fantastic way when they scrunch up … It’s beautiful, to say the least. Toe ties would only restrict that beauty …”

Joshua cocked an eyebrow.

He slowly curled his toes into a tight scrunch, smiling flirtatiously at Peter as he did so.

Peter felt breath leave his mouth.

He swallowed a dry lump and tightened his hold over the hairbrushes handle.

“You’re one of a kind, kid,” Peter whispered.

Joshua’s smile turned into a smirk.

“I know,” he said, his eyes never leaving Peter, his toes remaining clenched.

Peter couldn’t handle it any longer.

He placed the tickle tools on the surface of the bed and landed one knee over the mattress.

He crawled towards his lee and leant over the stocks.

Joshua closed his eyes …

Silence filled the room as Peter kissed Joshua on the lips.

Seated in the stocks, Joshua simply received the message of reassurance willingly, his toes un-scrunching where they rhythmically curled and flexed, the internal buzz within his body balancing out to just the right amount of electricity and relaxation.

Peter broke the kiss gently.

Both he and Joshua looked at each other, unblinking, quietly, their faces inches apart.

“Was that okay?” Peter asked.

Joshua licked his lips, tasting Peter’s mouth, the tingle from Peter’s stubble still present over his chin.

“You’re the one in charge,” Joshua whispered, “You tell me that it was okay.”

Peter smiled the kind of smile that only lasted a few seconds but expressed a wave of emotions; he felt impressed, understood, put in his own place …

Peter sat down beside the stocks and reached out for the hairbrush and baby oil.

“Joshua,” Peter cleared his throat, “Your second test is the same as Johnny’s; your feet will be tickled for five minutes by the tools your counterpart has chosen,” Peter raised the hairbrush into view, “However, instead of being instructed not to laugh …” Peter paused for dramatic effect, “… You will instead be instructed to tell the truth …”

Joshua slowly sat forward in interest.

“Tell the truth?”

Peter leant the hairbrush against the stocks and uncapped the bottle of baby oil.

“Yes. If you don’t tell the truth within the five minute time frame, you receive your punishment … And Johnny gets the prize.”

Joshua watched Peter dribble baby oil over his left foot first, and then his right, his feet twitching as the cold droplets landed over the creamy soft flesh that made up his size ten and a half soles.

“That’s easy,” Joshua declared, “I always tell the truth. In fact, I think it’s impossible for me to lie …” he winced as Peter intentionally landed his fingers over his soles, fingernails first, before transforming the scratch into a rub, massaging the baby oil into Joshua’s feet firmly and carefully, making sure to cover them entirely from heel to toe.

Peter looked over at the digital clock and then back towards the camera stand, where he checked everything was in line; the time now twelve noon exactly, the iPhone recording everything for the paying audience these videos would soon be sent to …

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind admitting how much you love to be tickled …” Peter capped the bottle of baby oil and then laid it down over the mattress, picking up the brush with his right hand, placing the plastic bristles against the sole of Joshua’s left foot.

Joshua’s toes flexed out into a readied stretch, so forcefully that his index toe twitched.

“I, I don’t love being tickled, man,” Joshua scoffed, awaiting the hairbrushes glide, “Who loves being tickled? Are you crazy?”

Peter began to rub the hairbrush from side to side, across Joshua’s arch.

“You once said to me that I make you laugh in ways you’ve never laughed before,” Peter reminded Joshua, “That doing this, the very thing I’m doing now, makes you feel good, it makes you feel better about yourself …”

Joshua bit into the knuckles of his right hand as his foot squirmed to the left, his toes scrunching up, the muscles in his ankle working their hardest in an attempt to move his foot away from the brush in Peter’s grasp.

“That, that doesn’t mean I, I like it, man!” Joshua raised his voice, his words coming out in a whine, his arms reaching forwards to grab at Peter, his mind pulling them back where he then tucked them under his own butt, “Do you like being tickled, dude? Huh? Fuck!” Joshua tried to use his right foot to nudge away the hairbrush, twisting and stretching it across to his left sole, failing miserably despite half a dozen more attempts.

Peter grinned at the sight of Joshua’s feet trying to protect themselves, the young man now grunting as he persisted in getting nowhere with stopping the brush.

“I’m asking the questions, Joshua,” Peter used his other hand to tickle Joshua’s left foot out of the way, now fully able to continue to tickle Joshua’s right sole with the hairbrush, a hairbrush he now rubbed up and down the bottom of Joshua’s right foot from heel to toe, toe to heel, heel to toe, “I’m in charge, you said so yourself. Now tell me, truthfully, that you love being tickled. That’s why you keep coming back for more, right? That’s why you want to keep seeing me? That’s why you couldn’t leave me alone? That’s why you hate that I ghosted you, that I ignored your texts, your calls? That’s why you ripped your vest off on stage? Because you’d do anything for me, anything to be tickled like this again?”

Joshua pressed his palms against his eyes, now seeing fuzzy colours, as he yelped out a loud, “AGH!” His giggles now dribbling out of his mouth in a steady yet grainy roll, his torso twisting from side to side so much so that Joshua had to remove his over-shirt, clawing onto the material, yanking it away from his shoulders, his arms, his upper body, “Oh my god, man! Enough! Enough with the damn brush! I can’t take the brush! Why did he chose the brush? The fuck, man! Fucking Orlando! Holy shit, I can’t even see!” Joshua kicked his legs repeatedly as Peter went back to scribbling over his left sole, “NO, NO, NO, MAN! Not both feet at the same time! That’s not fair, dude, that’s not fair!”

Peter looked over at the digital clock.

“Two minutes, Joshua. You have three left. Be honest with me, kid. Come on, tell the truth, or you lose …”

Peter increased the hairbrushes pressure, now using his free hand to curl around Joshua’s right big toe, his index finger and thumb catching the oily digit in a tight hold.

The toes of Joshua’s left foot clawed against Peter’s hand as Joshua bit his lower lip in focus, his eyes watering, his cheeks flushing pink, a damp stain of sweat now present over the material of his t-shirt, just beneath his pits.

“I can’t stand it,” Joshua mumbled, his hands pressing down over the bed sheets, his butt lifting off the mattress where he bounced on the spot, his legs kicking, the stocks shaking, “Come on, man! Enough with that foot, do, do, do the other one! Do the other one! Come on, man!”

“Say it,” Peter urged, “You love this. You want this. You can’t live without this …” he scrubbed the hairbrush hard and fast, now alternating in various directions; sometimes he dragged it up towards Joshua’s toes, other times he slid it to the right, across Joshua’s arch, where he would then take it down to Joshua’s heel, causing the twenty two year old to shriek and giggle at such a volume that Peter felt relieved he’d hired out the entire fifth floor of the hotel …

“I, I don’t like it! I, I can’t say that I do!” Joshua became overwhelmed with disbelief, his narrowed eyes taking in the sight of his right foot tickled beyond comprehension, by Peter’s hairbrush, non stop, with no mercy, no break, no pause, “You, you can’t make me say something I don’t believe in! Come on, man! You’re making me lose! You want me to lose, Peter, you fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Joshua cursed into the ceiling, expelling a word he hated to use, simply because he felt so frustrated with his circumstance, the intensity of the feeling taking place over his right sole, his fingers now clawing into the bedsheets, pulling them up and around him, as if trying to consume himself with his surroundings in an attempt to make himself disappear …

Peter unhooked his index finger and thumb away from Joshua’s big toe, allowing Joshua to now wriggle and writhe his right foot as much as he pleased, something he didn’t hesitate for more than a nano second in doing, whilst his left foot fell victim to Peter’s scribbling fingernails.

“Tell the truth, Joshua. You have two and a half minutes left …”

Joshua now laughed so hard his breath began to fall short; his bellows constant and heavy, his intakes of breath quick and sharp, only actioned so that he could expel the hysteria all over again, his hands now unapologetically reaching out to Peter where his fingers tried to snatch Peter’s hairbrush out of his grasp.

As a tear rolled down Joshua’s cheek, the young pop star decided to give in and tell Peter what he wanted to hear.

“OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!” Joshua screamed, inhaling a large chunk of air, shouting his words out with his laughter, “I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I FUCKING LOVE IT! I love being tickled, I love it so much, man! I, I, I can’t stop thinking about it, I wanna be tickled all the time, every day, every night, fuck, fuck, fuck! I told you what you wanted to hear! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god? Peter! Peter! Peter? Peter. STOP. STOP,” Joshua cut the air with his palm, demanding a time out, “YO, PETER, I TOLD YOU THE TRUTH, STOP IT, MAN! COME ON, PETER? PETER! PETER—”

Peter continued, even if they had gone past the five minute mark …

“Tell me to stop tickling your feet …” Joshua’s tickler wanted to hear him say it out loud, to verbalise the words, to have them actually land in his ears …

Joshua threw his torso down, landing on his back, bouncing on the spot as he clawed onto the bare flesh of his thighs, “STOP TICKLING MY FEET!” Joshua cried, “ST—STOP TICKLING MY FEET!” He yelled, “STOP. TICKLING. MY. FEET—”

—Peter stopped.

Joshua lay panting, breathless, heaving in air through his nose, blowing it out through his mouth …

Peter placed the hairbrush between Joshua’s heels and then began to gently massage Joshua’s right foot, causing the young man to jolt in alarm, concerned that the tickling had returned just after he thought it had ended …

His foot relaxed in Peter’s grasp as soon as Joshua became aware the touch would be firm and steady, instead of scratchy and intense.

“In a few moments …” Peter spoke carefully, “… I’ll get Johnny back in here, where I’ll inform you both of your punishment and his prize …”

Joshua sat up quickly, his curls of hair a little damp with sweat, his bushy eyebrows burrowed into a deep frown.

“Punishment? But … I, i told you the truth,” Joshua tried to sell the situation to both himself and to Peter, “… I, I was telling you the truth …” he pressed.

Peter rubbed his thumbs across Joshua’s toes, massaging the baby oil further into the flesh.

Gradually, his index finger and thumb curled around Joshua’s left big toe, pinning it into place.

“Can I ask you something, Joshua?”

Joshua winced as he felt Peter’s fingernails land over his left heel.

“Yes! Yes, any, anything …” he buried his hands under the hem of his t-shirt, worry saturating his face.

Peter gently began to scratch Joshua’s left heel.

“Do I look stupid?” He asked.

Joshua lifted his eyebrows, his mouth falling open, his tongue clearly visible from where Peter knelt.

“No! No? No, man, you, wait, what, what do you—” Joshua tried to pull his foot out of Peter’s grasp, “—Have I, have I pissed you off, man? I, I didn’t mean to piss you—” he bit his lower lip, keeping giggles in his throat as Peter took his scratch further up Joshua’s sole …

“You said what you said, just to make the tickling stop,” Peter declared, “You weren’t telling the truth. You knew I could tell you’d be lying. You want the punishment, for me to tickle you again, for me to tickle you instead of Johnny, because you’re jealous, because you—”

“—Because I love being tickled by you—” Joshua growled, lowering his head as his un-held four toes curled into a tight scrunch.

Peter stopped tickling Joshua, allowing his lee to repeat himself with less alarm to his tone.

“Say it again,” Peter whispered.

Joshua sighed.

“I … I love being tickled by you,” he kept his eyes away from Peter, “That’s the truth. I, I swear to god. I, I didn’t keep it to myself because I’m jealous. I kept it to myself because I’m …” Joshua shrugged, closing his eyes slowly, “… Because I’ve never felt this way, I guess. Not about tickling. Not about a guy. This … Everything … It’s uh,” Joshua chuckled, “I’m, I’m lost for words, I, I can’t describe how I feel.”

Peter let go of Joshua’s foot and wiped his baby oil stained hands across his chinos.

Another wave of silence filled the hotel room as Peter unlatched the stocks lock and then crawled away from the bed.

Joshua reached forwards and lifted the top half of the stocks away from his ankles, pulling his feet out where he swung them off the bed and positioned himself into a confident stand.

“Peter, I, I,” he ran his hands through his hair, “If that’s too much, I get it, I understand, I …”

Peter turned his back to Joshua and faced the hotel room window, squinting as the Los Angeles sunshine beamed against his face and chest.

“You should’ve told the truth,” Peter muttered quietly, “You … You really should’ve told the truth.”

Joshua curled his fists into balls.

“Why, damnit?” He shouted, “Why the hell do you want me to admit it so bad? I’ve done it already! I’ve never admitted anything like that b—”

Peter turned around to face Joshua.

His disappointed expression was enough to make Joshua stop shouting, for him to close his mouth and slump his shoulders.

“If you had told the truth,” Peter warned, “You wouldn’t have to go through what happens next …”

T E S T T H R E E : ‘J E A L O U S Y’

Joshua knelt on the carpet, his hands tied behind his back, the ball gag in his mouth once again.

“Mpph …

Mppph …

Mphh …”

Laying on the mattress was Johnny, entirely naked, blindfolded with a black cloth, each of his ankles strapped to each lower corner of the bed, his legs spread apart.

Johnny’s wrists had been tied together and stretched to the top middle of the bed, where The Masked Tickler sat down over his arms, pinning the twenty year olds elbows together, his weight stopping Johnny from being able to pull his arms free, out from under the masked deviant.

Johnny’s armpits were completely exposed, their incredible shape and furry deepness ready to be tickled for the rest of the day by The Masked Tickler and Peter, who currently knelt to the left of Johnny’s waist with that all too familiar seagull feather pinched between his index finger and thumb.

Johnny’s prize was to receive the ultimate tickling …

Joshua’s punishment was to sit there and watch.

He had been told to be quiet, to not make a noise, a simple task to achieve thanks to the plastic ball pushing against the back of his throat …

Johnny had been told something too …

That it was just him, Peter and The Masked Tickler here.

He had even watched Joshua be escorted to the room next door …

After that, the blind fold went on, the ropes came out, the limbs were bound and Joshua was quietly escorted back in …

The mind games, the physical intensity, the overall dramatics of the day were now in full swing …

Creak …

Johnny began to giggle as Peter started to stroke his sides with the feather.

He twisted to the right …

Then he twisted to the left …

The feather now taking an agonising journey across his waist, flickering, fluttering, floating past his navel and over his semi erect cock.

The bed creaked with every squirm, with every wobble …

Creak …

Johnny gasped and moaned, his back arching, another load of breathless giggles leaving his lips.

The Masked Tickler positioned five fingertips over Johnny’s right armpit.

He then positioned five fingertips over Johnny’s left.

Johnny tried to look up at the plastic, white oval mask staring back down at him, but all he could see was darkness.

“Come on, you fuck!” Johnny urged, “What are you waiting for?”

Joshua scowled at Johnny.

Does he get a kick out of this too?

Is …

Joshua’s narrow eyed glare shot over to Peter, who continued to stroke Johnny’s torso with the seagull feather.

Am I being replaced?

The Masked Tickler teased Johnny by not going too hard or too fast with his fingertips strength.

Instead he simply stroked Johnny’s underarms, the black leather of his gloves gliding delicately through Johnny’s armpit hair.

Such a touch was enough to get Johnny laughing hard.

His pits were one of his most sensitive spots, and with them being so spread open, so vulnerable, so utterly exposed, The Masked Tickler could only revel in his circumstance, combing his fingers through Johnny’s armpit hair as if he were petting a panting puppy.

As Johnny huffed and heaved out giggles, his body tormented willingly by the soft brush of a feather travelling across his waist, as well as ten fingers wiggling softly across both pits at the same time; Joshua knelt with his eyes watering, his cheeks burning pink, his fingers curling tightly around the leather straps binding his wrists together, with such vigour that his arms began to shake …

“Mpphh …

Mnnph …

Mphh …”

Creak …

He breathed in and out through flared nostrils, not one but two lines of drool now seeping out of his ball gag, his entire form the perfect presentation of boiling jealousy personified.

He wanted to be tied there.

He wanted Peter to stroke his naked body with the feather.

He wanted to be erect, aroused, alert to all of his senses being violated in such a way, like they had been many times before in Peter’s company, in his apartment, in rented out hotel rooms, in hired Airbnb’s …

Seeing Johnny this way made Joshua think back to those events, those moments where he was tickled so hard he forgot about his depression, the worries in his mind, the things that got him down …

How could something that made me so happy lead to this?

Joshua felt a sting in his heart as he watched Peter place the feather over Johnny’s stomach, crawl down to Johnny’s right foot and start to kiss his sole …

Joshua no longer cared for the amount of saliva landing in his lap.

He began to growl as he watched Peter lay himself down by Johnny’s right foot and continue to kiss his sole, his lips pecking down over his heel, the side of his foot, all the way up to his toes where he took them in his mouth, sucking on them as if they were sweets …

Johnny’s laughter and giggling increased, his foot twitching and writher under Peter’s teeth as they nibbled around his second to last toe …

Joshua acknowledged the fierce alarm in Johnny’s blindfolded face as he threw his head over his chest and yelled at Peter, “NO, NOT THERE—” his shout filling the hotel room, it’s volume landing in Joshua’s ears with such force Joshua had to squeeze his eyes shut.

Peter persisted in nibbling Johnny’s second to last toe.

The Masked Tickler continued to stroke Johnny’s armpits, his fingers now increasing in their speed and strength, causing Johnny to buck and bounce of the bed, his muscular weight shifting the bed from side to side.

Its creaking tortured Joshua …

Creak!

The sound was a constant reminder that Johnny was experiencing what Joshua was not …

What Joshua could now only crave …

Peter nibbled over Johnny’s sole and then started to kiss the top of his foot, an area that was also exceptionally ticklish, causing Johnny to shriek and kick, Peter’s stubble alone enough to torment Johnny’s size nine and a half from the ankle down …

Joshua’s eyes snapped open.

He caught the sight of Peter now kissing up Johnny’s left long, hairy leg, over his ticklish thigh and towards his waist where he licked up towards his right nipple, biting on it gently, carefully, with enough of a nip that it caused Johnny to hiss out a loud, “MOTHER FUCKER!” into the hotel ceiling.

Peter picked up the feather and returned it to Johnny’s torso.

This time, he didn’t flutter it around his upper body.

Much to Joshua’s distain, Peter took the feather towards Johnny’s now fully erect cock.

He stroked Johnny’s shaft, toying with his tip, the edge of the feather dragging gently down to the base of Johnny’s hard on.

Johnny’s eyes watered, he peered over his stomach, his wriggled his arms and he took in the feathers sensation, his glare boiling through the blindfold as his lips began to swell …

“No, wait, no, please,” he whined, “Not my, not my b, not my ba, not my balls, n, n, not again—”

Peter infiltrated Johnny’s most ticklish area without hesitation.

He slid the feather between Johnny’s balls, the sharp but soft tickle tool see-sawing mercilessly over Johnny’s taint, non stop, without any prior discussion or debate, until Johnny became breathless, teary eyed and close to orgasm …

… Leaving Joshua to simply watch, to witness Johnny bite his upper lip, to peer over his chest and acknowledge the feeling bubbling up around his hips and stomach, so much so that Joshua could almost see Johnny’s eyes widen behind his blindfold …

… It’s happening, it’s happening, he’s going to erupt, why oh why isn’t that me, what I’d give …

Johnny, now breathless and handling a feather between the balls and five fingers over each armpit held back a moan, a shout, a mixture of them both, “Mnn—” to then cum where he lay, a gasp leaving his lips, the gush of pleasure shooting out of him in such a load that it propelled through the air …

Joshua watched the ejaculation take place as if it erupted from Johnny in slow motion.

He watched the lines of creamy white sparkle as they stretched out of Johnny, his mouth falling open as Peter held onto Johnny’s cock and pulled it away from the Canadian’s stomach, aiming it directly at Joshua.

Joshua flinched, Johnny’s cum landing on his face.

Peter, Johnny and Joshua sat and lay panting, a droplet of Johnny’s cum falling away from Joshua’s ball gag as Joshua blinked in shock.

Peter turned to Joshua.

“You did well to keep quiet. Now it’s your turn.”

T E S T F O U R : ‘G A N G T I C K L E’

Only three words could leave Joshua’s lips as he lay naked and tied in the spread eagle position, on his back, to the same bed Johnny had just been tied to

“… Oh my god …”

Sat over his left arm was The Masked Tickler.

Sat over his right arm was Peter.

Knelt at his waist was Johnny, with an electric toothbrush in hand.

“Your final test, Joshua,” Peter declared, “Is to endure all three of us over your worst spots, all at once. There is no catch; you must simply deal with it, take it, understand it … This will be unlike anything you’ve experienced before … Is that clear?”

Joshua nodded quickly.

“Cr, crystal …”

Johnny grinned as he switched the electric toothbrush on.

Click!

Bzzzzzzz …

Joshua squeezed his eyes shut.

“Then we begin,” Peter announced.

Joshua kicked his heels across the bedsheets as both The Masked Tickler and Peter began to stroke the extremely hairy depths of Joshua’s armpits.

Their fingers scratched through the thick curls of hair, over the moist, sensitive depths of his underarms where they would wiggle and pinch across his biceps and pecs, never leaving the ultra ticklish landscape that mostly took up the area between Joshua’s elbows and his collar bone …

Joshua, already breathless, had no choice but to laugh and giggle into his chest as he felt the weight of The Masked Tickler over his left arm, the weight of Peter over his right, his arms pinned above him, his pits violated non stop by ten fingers at the same time …

He twisted his head from side to side as he took in the sight of his ticklers touch over each armpit, disbelief saturating his face as Johnny aimed the toothbrush towards the next spot that Joshua couldn’t handle being touched …

… His neck.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, n, nonononononononononon,” Joshua huffed and widened his eyes as he watched the spinning, vibrating bristles whizz towards his throat, “Come on, go easy, Orl, Orando, I swear to god I’ll tear you apart if you—” Joshua shrieked, clamping his jaw against his shoulder as the toothbrush made impact with his neck, “—EEK! NO, OR, ORLANDO, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, FUCK, YOU BITCH, AGHH! AGHHH! AGHHHHH! AGAHAHAHAHA—AGHHHHHHAAAEEEEEEE—” Joshua began to scream, his high pitched squeals filling the hotel room as his body thrashed from side to side, his ankles pinned to each corner of the bed, keeping his body in place, allowing Joshua to only throw his body up and down as if being electrocuted by the simplicity of a plastic tool made for your teeth and not your Adam’s apple …

“Oh wow!” Johnny raised both eyebrows, “I wish I’d known your neck was this ticklish during the wrestle, I would’ve gone for it right away!” He commented, glancing up playfully to Peter, “This is so hot!”

Peter chuckled, “The base of his neck is the worst, go on, go for it, Johnny!”

Joshua’s face had already creased into a manic, near-satanic scrunch of pure insanity, even if his neck had only been toyed with for less than thirty seconds; his eyes were wide open, his mouth splayed out into a giant ‘O’ shape, his nostrils flared, his cheeks red, his throat filled with hysteria, his torso twisting and writhing, his stomach shimmering, his nipples erect his cock hardening his skin drenched in goosebumps his pits worked over relentlessly, mercilessly, and intensely to such a level that Joshua’s laughter had now been replaced with shrills and girl-ish cries, his giggling hard and coarse, his cock flapping around between his thighs as his balls bounced over the bed sheets with every buck his toned body had to offer …

The Masked Tickler’s jaw dropped behind the plastic covering his face.

He had only seen one ticklee in his time react like this to tickling, and it took string and a lot of baby oil to get them there.

But this? Ten fingers and an electric toothbrush to the neck and Joshua had been transformed into a young man possessed, a ticklee displaying such erratic and high pitched yells that it wouldn’t be a shock to see a member of The Church burst through the hotel room door with a crucifix and holy water, ready to summon the creature beneath Joshua’s skin out from the depths of his tickled-to-oblivion body.

“OH MAY GAHAHAD—” were the only words Joshua could formulate between the laughter, “—OH MAY GAHAHAD—” was repeated again and again and again between the shrieks, “—OH MAY GAHAHAD—” became a regular sentence Joshua would heave out as Johnny continued to run the electric toothbrush around the base of his rivals neck; past his jaw, across his throat, up to his left ear lobe then across his lips and towards his right earlobe, down to his suprasternal notch and then towards his chin, all the while Peter and The Masked Tickler persisted in tickling both of Joshua’s ultra sensitive armpits at the same time, non stop, without a pause …

Joshua lay kicking and screaming, his eyes filled with tears, his mouth stretched out into a giant grin as his head continued to twist and turn, to clamp down over the electric toothbrush, to press his jaw against the bristles even if it were a second; but that tickled too much anyway! He couldn’t last long in that position, he’d have to throw his head away, unwillingly offering Johnny a large landscape of ticklish flesh from his earlobe to his shoulder, allowing Johnny the chance to run the electric toothbrush all over it, the buzzing bristles travelling past silky smooth, perspiration soaked lengths of skin …

“ENOUGH WITH THE NECK—” Joshua broke, “—OH MY GOD, NOT MY NECK, NOT MY PITS, DO MY FEET, DO MY FUCKING FEET INSTEAD, TAKE A DAMN TOE EACH I JUST CAN’T DO MY NECK—”

All three ticklers ignored Joshua’s request.

The Masked Tickler pulled a ball gag out from his back pocket.

Peter had to hold onto Joshua’s head to keep it still.

“You’re being too loud, kid,” Peter warned, “So loud that the floor above or below might raise their concerns …”

Joshua tried to twist his head out of Peter’s grasp, his wide eyes glaring at the gag as it neared his mouth.

“No, pl, pl, please, come on, man, not the gag, not my neck, n, n, n—” he was speechless, dribbling, exhausted already, Johnny still toying with his jaw by pressing the electric toothbrush against the side of his face once, twice, three times, playfully taunting his new friend by using his free hand to dance across his sides at the same time, “—You, you guys! This, this is too much! All, all three of you at once, FUCK? FUCK! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Oh shit! Wait, wait, lemme take a breath, lemme get my tongue in place, wait, hold up, no, hold up, HOLD ackkkk —UMPHH—MPHHHH—” Joshua’s eyes widened even further as the gag was forced between his lips, under his teeth and deep against the back of his throat, causing him to groan and squirm across the sheets, his head and arms going back to their constant wiggle as the toothbrush and fingers returned to his neck and armpits.

“Mphhh! Mphhh! Mphhh? Mphhh! Mnnnphhh! Mmmmmnnnnnphhh!”

Joshua jolted from side to side as his gagged face planted from left to right, unsure where to look next, the attacks coming at all angles; fingers over his underarms, pinches across his armpit hair, a whizz and a buzz over his throat or shoulder, his ear or his chin, and then, most sadistically, his lips …

Johnny cackled to himself as he ran the electric toothbrush over the plump chunks of wet, swollen flesh exposed around the ball gag; Joshua’s lips having literally nowhere to move thanks to the plastic ball between them, pushing them upward, exposing them and their sensitivity entirely, causing an extreme and unbelievably ticklish sensation that blew Joshua’s mind in more ways than he could handle.

“You should be careful what you wish for, Bassett,” Johnny growled, shuffling down to the foot of the bed where he lay on his stomach, right beside Joshua’s left foot, the electric toothbrush now whizzing across Joshua’s toes, causing them to curl and scrunch as he kicked his foot madly, more grunts and screams leaving his gagged mouth.

Johnny, in this position, had both of his own bare feet laid out near Joshua’s upper body; as he focused on tickling Joshua’s foot, The Masked Tickler and Peter saw their chance to use one of their hands to reach out to Johnny’s feet and quickly tickle them also, reminding him that no matter how much he thought he was in some form of dominant control right now, he was always their bitch too, always a ticklee, always a sub in this one of a kind, day long session …

Johnny yelped, yanking his feet towards him, further up the bed, where he rolled over to his knees and crawled back into a safer position; back by Joshua’s torso, where he continued to run the electric toothbrush over Joshua’s lips and neck …

He looked at Peter, Peter looked at Johnny, they both exchanged a glance that presented an understanding between them both; on Peter’s side it was a warning, a look that said, ‘you’re never safe’, and from Johnny’s side it was a twinkle in his eye that said, ‘I know, and I like that’.

Johnny became so excited, so turned on by his role as a ticklee and now a tickler, that he decided to up the ante himself.

He reached across the bed where he took hold of the blindfold that had once been strapped to his own head.

“Oh, how devious!” Peter snarled.

“MMMMMNNNPHHH! MNNNNNPHHH! MNPHHHHHHH!”

Joshua, still having both armpits tickled at once, shook his head as if he were dodging a bumble bee getting too close, the sting in question being the blindfold in Johnny’s hands as it neared his eyes inch by inch, second by second, the light from the hotel room windows fading away as his sight was suddenly taken from him, only pitch black now his view …

Johnny tied the blindfold around Joshua’s face, grabbing his electric toothbrush, returning it to Johnny’s swollen, puffy lips where it jumped the tickle tool between that highly sensitive spot and the patch of flesh on the base of his neck that drove him absolutely wild.

Joshua, now gagged, blindfolded, his arms pinned above him by the weight of two men, could do nothing but dribble, scream, heave and squirm as all three ticklers persisted in working their given areas.

Peter couldn’t help but take in the sight before him.

Here he knelt, over Joshua’s arm, his fingers brushing past his armpit hair …

The Masked Tickler doing the same the other side …

Joshua’s throat full with volume, his back arching, the lines of his stomach so defined that it became clear to Peter this very session, this very moment itself was exercising Joshua’s body far harder than any on stage performance or workout …

And then there was Johnny, Johnny Fucking Orlando, just inches away, his tongue poking out of his mouth in focus as he ran the electric toothbrush over Joshua’s throat …

Peter watched, in slow motion; Joshua kicking his feet and legs, the bedsheets now forced down the mattress thanks to the strength of Joshua’s heels …

The room smelt of sweat, baby oil, orgasm and a days worth of tickle torture between two of the hottest ticklees the House of White Feathers had ever captured …

It was then Peter wondered something …

“Are you done, Joshua?” Peter asked, his fingers deep within Joshua’s armpit, “Do you have any regrets?”

As Johnny, Peter and The Masked Tickler continued to send Joshua into the oblivion Joshua so madly craved, all Joshua could do was answer Peter’s question and confirm his want to be tickled this intensely by fiercely and adamantly shaking his head.

__________________________

Johnny sat on the corner of the bed in just a towel, his hair wet from a brief shower taken just a few minutes ago.

The only other person in the hotel room was Peter, who stood a few metres away from Johnny with his arms folded.

Joshua knelt bound and gagged in the room next door.

“It’s more than just tickling,” Peter advised, his tone drenched with caution, “Some of the people I work with are far more sadistic than I am, believe me. Do you think you can handle that?”

Johnny tucked some damp chunks of hair behind his ears.

“In all honesty? Like, no. Probably not …” he then grinned, “… But that’s what I wanna find out …”

Joshua sat on the corner of the bed, now fully clothed, his rucksack placed between his feet, his neck covered in tiny pink marks and scratches.

The only other person in the hotel room was Peter, who stood a few metres away from Joshua with his arms folded.

Johnny knelt bound and gagged in the room next door.

“You’ve always been my number one, kid. I told you that at the start of the day. I don’t want to see you upset. This wasn’t about making you upset.”

Joshua sniffed, wiping some emotion away from his nose.

“It felt like you did this on purpose. Pitted us against each other to make me feel like crap. And you know what? It worked,” Joshua’s eyes began to water, “I feel awful.”

Peter began to pace around the room.

“It will involve weekly meets,” he explained, “You’ll get to see The House, in all it’s glory. You’ll experience Miller, Andrew, The Clown, The Four Masked Men …” Peter smirked, turning to face Johnny, “… Me … Bulk … The list goes on. We all have our own individual styles, and the people I’ve mentioned are just the tip of the iceberg. How are you gonna fit us all into your busy pop star schedule?”

Johnny clapped his palms together once.

“I’ll make it work!” He lifted his eyebrows, “Hey! Maybe I’ll just stop being a pop star. Maybe I could do this full time, instead …” he didn’t care if his delivery suggested he was actually being serious … “I mean it,” he caught Peter’s eye and maintained the stare, “I, I mean it.”

Peter blinked.

“That’s a pretty sturdy commitment. A pretty huge change.”

Johnny shrugged.

“I love this man. I want it all the time, every day if I could.”

As Peter turned away from Johnny to face the hotel room window, Johnny’s next set of words arrived in his ears in the form of a desperate whisper.

“… Please, man. Can you make it happen?”

Peter knelt down by Joshua and smoothed a tear away from his cheek with his thumb.

“Joshua, you’re clueless, aren’t you?”

Joshua kept bloodshot eyes off of Peter, where he instead stared down into the carpet, his nostrils burning, his eyelids puffy and wet.

“I don’t think I gotta be a genius to figure out you’re replacing me with him,” he gulped, “It’s pretty fucking clear.”

Peter chuckled.

He placed a hand over Joshua’s right knee.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “Johnny is going to go through the sorts of things I’ve put you through. But … Not at my hands. At the hands of others, instead.”

Joshua blinked.

He slowly turned his face towards Peter.

“Really?”

Peter nodded, smiling reassuringly at Joshua.

“… You’re my guy. No one else. Got that?”

Joshua wanted to nod, to finish his worrying, to put this all to bed, but his curiosity couldn’t be controlled.

“I don’t understand,” he licked his lips, “If that’s always been the case, what was today really about?”

“I’m obsessed with him,” Peter admitted, “I have been for almost a year now.”

Johnny smirked.

“I don’t blame you,” Johnny agreed, “He’s a fucking sweetheart.”

Peter laughed.

“As much as I wanted to see how you’d be around each other, I mostly wanted to see how far Joshua would go, to submit to me. The levels of emotion he’d be willing to feel, the risks he’d take, the heights he’d be willing to jump, the amount of determination that would come along with all of it.”

Johnny’s hair had started to dry naturally.

He slid both hands though it and paused before asking his question, mostly because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“And did he?” Johnny cleared his throat, “Did he give you the result you expected?”

Peter tucked his hands in his pockets, the scent of sweat still present within the hotel room.

“Oh yes, in more ways then he realises."

Peter curled his fingers around the door handle.

Before he could leave the hotel room, Joshua stood abruptly.

“Why did you ignore me?” He asked.

Peter paused, his back facing Joshua, the door now ajar.

He could hear Joshua sit back down over the edge of the armchair, he could feel the regret vibrate from the young musician after asking such a blunt and sudden question.

“… For so long …” Joshua whispered.

Peter’s hand fell away from the door.

He turned to face Joshua.

“I wanted you. I called you up. I chased,” Peter’s hands dangled by his sides as he spoke, “And then suddenly you wanted me. You were calling me up. You became the chaser. I had to take some time to get my head around that. I’m sorry.”

Joshua dropped his shoulders slowly.

“Are you gonna be that way with me again?”

Peter shook his head.

“Never again.”

__________________________

Both Johnny and Joshua lay hogtied and fully clothed, side by side, at the end of the hotel room bed.

Peter and The Masked Tickler stood before them.

This time, between Peter’s index finger and thumb, there wasn’t a ball gag, length of rope, feather or electric toothbrush …

Instead, he held onto one plane ticket to Sweden.

Joshua and Johnny eyed the ticket with open mouths, their hands tied to their ankles, their ankles strapped to their waists.

“I’ll be seeing you both again,” Peter hovered the plane ticket between Joshua and Johnny, his right hand curling around Johnny’s left Nike sneaker, tugging it away from his foot, “But, as I mentioned at the start of the session, the footage will be, and now has been, reviewed by a select amount of exclusive House of White Feathers members, and they have chosen their winner. The ticklee they thought delivered the best,” he handed the sneaker to The Masked Tickler and began to run his index finger over Johnny’s left socked sole, “The winner that will receive the golden ticket; flights to Sweden, to take part in a one of a kind event, an event that you both would get a lot out of, considering you’re interests …”

Johnny buried his face into the mattress, curled his feet across each other, squirmed and writhed over the sheets, caught up in his hogtie.

“Come on, dude!” He huffed and bit his lower lip, “Just tell us, man! The suspense is, like, fucking killing me!”

Joshua’s eyes widened as Peter began to tug at his right Converse, removing it quickly, exposing his right sock-less foot, the scent of his sole arriving at Peter’s nose immediately.

Peter smiled, placing the plane ticket under Joshua’s nose, then under Johnny’s, then back to Joshua, all the while working Joshua’s right sole whilst jumping over to Johnny’s left, causing both boys to wriggle and grunt in their hogties as they awaited the result.

“The winner,” Peter announced, “And the person flying to Sweden is … Jo—

L A T E R T H A T E V E N I N G . . .

Joshua lay on his back, his naked body glistening in sweat, his chest and stomach lifting and dropping as he focused on refiling his body with air.

A large, satisfied smile decorated his face.

Huff …

Peter, also naked, had removed his lee’s wrist and ankle restraints where he then crawled back up to Joshua’s torso.

Joshua had his eyes closed, now grinning as Peter shuffled behind Joshua, pulling his arms beneath him so that he sat over his elbows in the cross legged position.

Joshua began to drag his heels over the sweat stained bedsheets as Peter started to stroke his armpit hairs once again.

Joshua started to pant as he acknowledged a huge mixture of emotions; disappointment, happiness, regret, uncertainty but most of all relief, relief that Johnny had finally left and headed back to Beverly Hills, leaving just Peter and The Masked Tickler here in the hotel room.

Like most of the day, The Masked Tickler remained still, silent, observing, his presence only required because Peter’s assistant Bulk was on vacation with his wife …

For the first time since arriving at the hotel earlier this morning, The Masked Tickler spoke.

“Where’s my ticket to Sweden?” He asked, his voice muffled behind the plastic oval covering his face.

Peter smirked as he combed his fingers through Joshua’s thick curls of armpit hair, his erection growing behind Joshua’s head as it bounced over his lap, the twenty two year old pop start giggling breathlessly …

“You can take that thing off now Orlando has gone,” Peter licked his lips.

The Masked Tickler sighed.

He held onto his mask …

He lifted his hood away from his head, revealing thick chunks of blonde hair …

The mask peeled away from his face …

A blue eyed, handsome young man smiled at his tickler.

Peter turned towards another one of his past tickee’s.

“You’ve got a lot more to learn before you’re granted access to Sweden, Aaron.”

WHO GOT THE TICKETS?

FIND OUT IN 2024’S EPIC CROSS OVER EVENT-FIC, ‘THE HOUSE OF WHITE FEATHERS’, COMING 2024

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