‘OBEY PART THREE’ TAKES PLACE EXACTLY ONE WEEK AFTER ‘OBEY PART TWO’

____________________________

B E V E R L Y H I L L S

8 . 3 0 A M

“Andrew, I look stupid …”

Tom huffed as he stood in front of the full body mirror dressed in nothing but a pair of white sports socks and a black jock strap.

Over the other side of the bedroom, Andrew sat perched on the end of his double bed.

“Are you serious? You look hot, Holland …” he stood, chuckling to himself, walking towards his lee, “… Maybe that’s what we call you from now on … Hot Holland …”

Tom stood to the side on tip toes, assessing his toned body and muscular legs in the reflection.

“This guy is so specific, why couldn’t I of just worn my box—”

—Tom nearly jumped out of his skin as soon as he felt Andrew’s index finger hook underneath the elastic strap sat snug under his right butt cheek.

"Check out that ass …” Andrew murmured, now positioning himself directly behind Tom, his stomach pressing authoritatively against his lee’s back, “ … So plump, so raised, so … Juicy …” Andrew pulled at the strap, letting it go so that it smacked against Tom’s butt cheek.

Thwack!

Tom jolted away, both of his hands reaching behind to cover his exposed derrière as he winced and spun round to face Andrew.

“Oi! You cheeky bugger, that bloody hu—”

“—Don’t whine, Holland …” Andrew warned, lifting his index finger into a threatening point, stepping away from the twenty six year old, “ … He doesn’t like it when they whine …”

Tom’s hands went back to his sides where they dangled nervously.

“Christ, look, Andrew, mate I, I don’t know if, if I can do this …” Tom admitted, shaking his head, “… I feel physically sick,” he gulped, his worry getting the better of him, “Fuck, I’m uh, I’m gonna pass out, I, I can’t breathe …”

Tom planted a hand over his chest as he stared down into the carpet, his eyes watering, his mouth falling open …

Andrew placed comforting hands over Tom’s bare shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

“Tom, listen to me … ” Andrew shook the boy with one single shake, “Tom! Look at me, Tom …”

Tom made eye contact with Andrew as he bit his upper lip.

“I’ll come with you,” Andrew decided, “I know he asked you to go alone, but I’ll, I’ll take you there and, and I’ll stand outside and wait till you’re finished. How’s that sound?”

Tom nodded quickly, his panic subsiding.

“I’d appreciate that, mate …”

Andrew kept his hands on Tom’s shoulders.

“Remember, he just wants to explore those two areas,” Andrew nodded down to Tom’s feet, “Your soles, and your pits … Two areas, two tools and before you know it, we’ll be back at the diner tucking into a cheese burger and milkshake …” he smiled at Tom, practically feeling him relax in his hold as he continued to speak in a calm and gradual tone, “Your Tom fucking Holland, your Spider-Man, for fucks sake … You’ve got this.”

Tom breathed in and closed his eyes, sighing out relief.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he rested his forehead over Andrew’s chest, “I’ve got this,” he whispered.

Andrew wrapped his arms around Tom and buried his face into his curls of hair.

“God, you’re adorable,” Andrew declared, “The most adorable person I know, the most ticklish person I’ve ever met, and … “ Andrew couldn’t help but laugh, “… Seriously,” in their position, with Tom’s back facing the mirror, Andrew had the perfect view of Tom’s butt in his jock strap, “The best ass I’ve ever seen …”

Tom shrugged himself out of Andrew’s hold, chuckling to himself as a pink blush formed over his cheeks.

“For god’s sake, stop it you bloody perv,” he muttered, covering his face with both of his palms.

Andrew raised his hands in surrender.

“I’ll stop it, if I can just … Just tap it, just once …”

Tom rolled his eyes.

“It’s always bargaining with you lot …” he turned his back to Andrew, offering his butt to his tickler, “… ‘I’ll stop if you answer this correctly’, ‘I’ll stop if you agree to this’, ‘I’ll stop if you say that’ …”

Andrew grinned, enjoying how much Tom seemed to be getting used to their routine and the circumstance he had been so easily trapped in.

“You’re learning fast,” Andrew placed all ten of his fingertips under each of Tom’s butt cheeks, tapping them gently, allowing them to bounce from his touch, “And so am I … If I had known you had an ass like this I might’ve focused the tickling down here a bit more …” Andrew raised his eyebrows as he watched Tom’s round, perfectly sized butt jiggle and wobble as he softly spanked each cheek with the palms of his hands.

As soon as the spanks got a little harder, Tom twisted around on the spot and snatched Andrew’s hands away from his body, his teeth clenching, his eyes narrowing into a focused stare.

Now facing each other, inches apart, with Tom’s strong hold fastening around both of Andrew’s wrists, all that could be heard was the sound of bird song on palm trees outside of Andrew’s mansion.

“… Andrew …” Tom warned, his tone deep and threatening.

Andrew smirked, looking down at his lee’s lips, matching the low level of Tom’s voice.

“ … Tom … “

Tom swallowed down a bubble of nerves as he let go of Andrew’s hands.

“We should really get going …” Tom reminded.

Andrew stepped away from Tom and lowered his head, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets.

“You’re right. As well as whining, he hates lateness, too …”

Tom picked up his hoodie, throwing it over his head as he clambered around for the sweat pants and running trainers he had discarded before trying on the jockstrap.

“Christ, is there anything this guy doesn’t hate?”

Andrew picked up the medium sized box that Tom had retrieved from the diner, a box the twenty six year old had been specifically ordered to arrive with, a box that contained just two simple yet effective tickle tools that promised to drive Tom utterly insane …

“Hyper sensitivity …” Andrew watched Tom get dressed, sad to see his ticklish flesh be hidden by more and more clothing by the second, “… And you’ve got bucket loads of that, so, you’re alright …”

“Alright?” Tom scoffed, “I’m about to get the living shit tickled out of me by the boss of a tickle mafia, Andrew …” Tom snatched the box from his friends hands and began to make his way out of Andrew’s bedroom, “… Believe me, I am far from alright …”

Andrew grabbed his car keys and stood quietly by himself as he watched Tom walk out the door, where he allowed him to go ahead so that he was out of ear shot.

Andrew then turned to look at you, the reader, where he offers you a flirtatious smile.

“Hey, between you and me? Tom thinks he’s been tickled hardcore already …” Andrew’s smile transforms into a grin, “… He’s got no idea!”

Andrew gives you a wink, pockets his car keys and then runs towards Tom where he follows him out of his mansion.

D O W N T O W N L . A

Exactly twenty nine minutes later

Tom stood outside the hotel door in a hoodie, denim jacket, sweat pants, white socks and running trainers.

Beneath all the cotton and material, the black jock strap continued to hug his butt, neatly containing a squashed set of balls and plump cock within its confines.

In his hands he held the same medium sized box that had been left at the diner for him a week ago …

He focused on enduring the nerves; the tightening of his throat, the nauseous feeling residing in his chest, the constant sting of anxiety in his stomach …

His eyes stared at the number ‘3’ just centimetres away from his face; its gold, rusty shape nailed over the surface of the door just like the number 2 on the door to the left and just like the number 4 on the door to the right …

He didn’t blink, he didn’t breathe, he didn’t move …

He just waited, until —

—Click!

The door swung open inward.

“Tom! Welcome! Welcome!”

Standing opposite Tom was a man in his fifties.

He looked rather handsome, much to Tom’s surprise, the first thing Tom noticing being the man’s bright white smile and wide open, muscular arms.

Tom felt his worry lessen almost immediately as the man practically bear hugged him without warning, the tactile greeting overshadowing any awkwardness before it had a chance to feel weird.

“Uh, hi—” Tom managed, his face squashed up against the man’s t-shirt covered chest, “I’m hoping you’re Miller?” He asked, his lips squished together.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, honestly!” Miller peeled Tom away from him but kept his hands locked around each of Tom’s arms, “Let me get a look at you … Damn … You’re more gorgeous in person, you know that? Like a modern day Fred Astaire!”

Once again, Tom felt a boil of pink blush over his cheeks.

“Uh, th-thanks, that’s, that’s very uh, very nice of you to say so … All of this actually got me the chance to star in a Fred biopic, so uh, tha—”

“—Christ, you’re so British!” Miller laughed, “So damn polite!”

Tom stopped talking, Miller’s tight, enthusiastic grin pinning him on the spot like some intimidating shark.

In this rigid position, he had no choice but to take in Miller’s features.

‘The Boss’ of this tickle mafia was good looking for an older guy, his hair mostly grey with remnants of black and brown speckles still present from his youth.

He was tanned, in good shape, a little taller than Tom but not as tall as Andrew …

And judging by the Rolex, the silver rings, the exfoliated skin and the expensive looking trousers and Gucci loafers …

… Miller’s fucking loaded, Tom thought.

No wonder he does what he wants!

No wonder he gets what he wants …

Money buys everything, after—

Tom’s analytic thoughts were interrupted by Miller’s booming demand.

“Garfield! … I know you’re down there …”

Miller kept his hands around Tom’s arms as he peered out past his hotel room door and down the hall.

Tom sheepishly stared into Miller’s chest.

At the bottom of the hall and around the corner, Andrew stretched one leg out into view.

He then slid around the corner, in a bomber jacket, shades and cap.

“Hey, Mils …” Andrew waved hesitantly, “How you doing …”

Miller smirked.

“You’re a good friend, escorting him here like this … And you know what?”

Finally, Miller let go of Tom’s arms and then walked back into his hotel room.

“You’re helping me out,” Miller suddenly declared, “We’ve got Tom Holland to ourselves, for crying out loud… We’d be damn stupid not to make it two against one …”

***

Tom stepped out of his sweat pants, returning to the same attire he had stood in forty minutes ago in Andrew’s Beverly Hills mansion; the American simplicity of white socks and a black jock strap.

He quietly brushed his right knuckles over his left side as he watched both of his ticklers set up for the session.

Miller connected two leather wrist cuffs together whilst Andrew did the same to two ankle cuffs.

“Tom, may I ask you something?” Miller spoke with a tone that suggested he would be asking Tom his question whether Tom allowed it or not.

Tom adjusted the straps of his jock as his eyes trailed around the hotel room and it’s lavish decor; the floor to ceiling windows, the linen curtains blowing in the breeze and the large bucket of champagne on ice sitting at the desk.

“Only if I can have a drink first …” Tom spoke confidently, “… You know, to uh, to take the edge off?”

Andrew and Miller locked eyes mischievously.

“I told you,” Andrew smiled, “He can be cocky when he wants to be …”

Miller opened up the box Tom had given to him and then nodded at the champagne bottle.

“Sure, help yourself, kid …”

Miller looked down at the two tools inside the box and turned his back to Tom as he began to let his imagination run wild; the thoughts of how far he’d push Tom, how hysterical he’d become, how much he’d make the boy beg were now flooding through his mind so quickly that his throat had begun to dry up.

“I uh … I …” he cleared his throat, blinking out of his daze before closing the box’s lid, “ … I only have two glasses though, as I didn’t think Andrew here would be joining us …”

Andrew placed the ankle cuffs carefully down over the mattress as he politely declined.

“I’m on the Beyoncé detox,” he announced, “You two strapping young lads go ahead …”

Tom lifted the champagne out of the bucket, some icy droplets of water falling away from the bottle as he picked up two glasses by the stem with his index finger and thumb.

He then walked towards Miller and Andrew, who now both sat perched side by side on the edge of the bed.

Miller’s eyes travelled over Tom’s body, from the toes of his white socked feet; up his perfectly shaped legs, past a bulge cupped by a jock strap, over a lean and long stomach and abs, where they landed on his broad, smooth chest and pointy pink nipples.

“You’re fucking incredible, Mr. Holland …” Miller laughed into his lap, still not able to believe he was about to tickle torture such a famous, attractive, well shaped body, “… This really is a dream come true …”

Tom handed a champagne glass to Miller.

“I bet you say that to all the famous boys,” he joked.

Andrew nodded to himself.

“In all honestly, he actually does …”

Miller nudged Andrew’s side with his elbow as he watched Tom pour champagne into his glass.

“You were going to ask me something?” Tom tipped the bottle away as the fizz bubbled into foam.

Miller waited for Tom to pour his own glass before asking his question.

“I did … I did …” he kept his eyes on Tom as Tom walked back to the desk, his butt jiggling with every step, his ass cheeks bouncing in the straps of his jock as he plonked the champagne bottle back into the silver bucket, “… Jesus …” Miller adjusted the collar of his t-shirt as Tom returned to a standing position opposite him.

They held their champagne glasses in silence as Miller readied himself.

He pursed his lips, stared into the hotel room ceiling and then dropped his face so that he stared directly into Tom’s eyes.

“Do you think we’re awful people?” He asked.

Andrew, without a glass of champagne and therefore having nothing to hold onto, simply placed his hands in his lap and looked down at his booted feet.

He glances up at you, the reader, and winces.

“… Awkward …” he says to you and you only.

He then looks around the hotel room to busy himself.

A police siren thirty stories below was the only sound that filled the room.

Tom narrowed his eyes at the bubbles in his champagne glass as he considered his answer.

He couldn’t lie.

He had never been able to, not once in his life.

It wasn’t in his programming.

Last week, he sat in The Tickle Chair screaming into an empty warehouse whilst a guy dressed as a Clown and another guy with a mask over his face tickled him till he sat drenched in so much sweat it looked like he had taken a long swim …

Tom glanced over to Andrew.

And all you did was watch, he thought.

Tom had been blackmailed, manipulated, physically and mentally pushed into places he didn’t think possible …

… All so better movie roles could land in his lap.

His career had changed forever, since he had met these ‘people’.

Tom questioned if he was happy, if doing this and gaining the result made him feel like a better person … So much so that he became completely unaware of how long he had stood in silence …

Miller scratched the tip of his nose and began to answer Tom’s question for him.

“Uh, I’d uh … I’d like to remind you that you’re willingly standing here, dressed as you are, with a glass of champagne that you poured yourself, your new series A Crowded Room out in a few weeks, a series we got you the chance to star in …”

Tom blinked himself out of his thought process, nodding slowly at Miller in understanding.

“… That must mean …” Miller continued, “ … That we can’t be that bad?”

Tom smiled quietly.

He raised his glass, offering the opportunity of a cheers.

“You’re not that bad,” he confirmed, another police siren sounding off at the bottom of the building.

Miller’s eyes remained on Tom’s face as he assessed it for any signs of lying.

For Miller, it was important that his lee’s felt as comfortable as possible, before they were about to be decimated by his methods.

Tom seemed genuine.

“Well!” Miller’s voice went from deep to high as he grinned at Tom and Andrew, “Let’s drink to that!”

Andrew lifted up an imaginary champagne glass as he joined Tom and Miller in bringing their drinks together in a polite clink.

Miller sipped from his glass whilst Tom glugged the champagne down all at once.

His thick neck and Adam’s apple bobbed as he closed his eyes and dropped his head behind his shoulders, finishing the fizz within four or five seconds.

Miller and Andrew both raised their eyebrows at Tom’s ability to finish off something so strong so quickly.

Tom’s head dropped forwards as he sighed out success, tears filling his eyes at the sharpness of the booze as it pierced his throat.

“WOO! I needed that!” He jumped, throwing his fist into the air, wiping his lips as he landed, “Sorry, I’m uh, I, I was a bit …” he hid his mouth with the back of his hand, containing a steady buuuu-rrrp …

“… A, a bit nervous,” he finished, smiling at his ticklers, swallowing down some more bubbles.

Miller chuckled, standing slowly as he placed an index finger under Tom’s chin.

“You should be nervous,” he agreed, “The Tom in a few hours time is not going to be the quiet, well composed young man you are now. The Tom in a few hours time is going to be a sweaty, dribbling mess who won’t be able to even speak …”

With that knowledge now in Tom’s mind, Tom had no choice but to smile awkwardly as he watched Miller go to refill his glass …

… With only one word able to leave his lips …

“ … Balls.”

Struck Gold.

Tom sat on the edge of the bed with his hands cuffed behind his back, a large window behind him, rays of sunlight beaming past his shoulders.

Andrew, on his knees, started to attach a leather cuff to Tom’s right ankle.

“You still feeling the need to pass out, Holland?” Andrew mouthed, almost too quietly.

Tom shook his head quickly.

“I’m good, I uh, I just wanna get it over and done with,” he whispered back.

“No such thing!” Miller jeered, able to hear their conversation even if he were over at the other side of the room, “We don’t rush, we don’t speed things up, we take our time … Especially with someone as ticklish as you …”

Miller adjusted the tripod, ensuring the camera attached to it was successfully recording, “… Someone who, I believe, might just be the most ticklish person we’ve ever signed contracts with …”

Tom watched Andrew attach a cuff his left ankle.

“How ticklish can one person seriously be?” Asked Tom.

Andrew smirked, taking his moment down by Tom’s feet as a chance to demonstrate.

He ever so slightly brushed the side of Tom’s left socked foot with his right thumb.

Tom kicked both his feet out in a desperate thrash, almost knocking Andrew onto the carpet.

“Jesus, Holland!”

Tom shuffled forward in concern.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Miller grinned.

“… That is how ticklish someone can seriously be,” he admired, as he watched Andrew stumble to a standing position.

Tom huffed, adjusting himself on the edge of the bed as he felt his pits warm up and the second glass of champagne land in his tummy.

“So, it’s, it’s feet and my armpits only, right?” Tom asked, his head twisting around to face Miller as Miller took his box of two tools towards the mattress, “And you’re testing the stuff in that box, out on me, and, and that’s it—”

“—That’s it,” Miller placed the box down on the bed and then sat on the edge of the mattress, to the left of Tom, “Sometimes, the simpler sessions are the best … They allow room to focus on your reactions, and your reactions are the most important part of all of it … So, this won’t be tricks or games, tasks or trials, it’ll be a complete focus on just tickling you, till you can’t stand it any longer, till you’re so breathless, so done all you can do is beg.”

Tom nodded slowly in understanding as Andrew sat down next to Miller.

“Shuffle up, Holland,” Andrew ordered.

Tom did as he was told and shuffled further up the bed, so that his legs were planted out over the mattress, his heels hanging off the edge, his butt in the middle of the bed itself.

“I’m gonna die,” Tom declared.

In this position, both Miller and Andrew could take a foot each.

Andrew chuckled as he took Tom’s right foot and secured it in an arm lock.

“You’re hilarious, Holland. You’re not gonna die …”

Miller sat a little closer next to Andrew and took Tom’s left foot, securing it in an armlock also.

“He’s right, kid,” Miller reassured, “As dramatic as I’m making this, we’ll be keeping tabs on your breathing, your perspiration levels, how much you plead … You’re in safe hands, believe me …”

Tom sat in the upright position, eyeing both men cautiously as both of his socked feet sat snug in an arm lock each.

“Nope,” Tom pressed his lips together, “I’m gonna die. I’m uh,” Tom’s glances shifted from side to side as he shrugged, accepting his fate, “I’m gonna scream the whole place down … When you take my socks off, oh boy, just so you know,” he warned, “Well, I just hope you’ve sound proofed the room …”

Miller lifted his shoulders, “Meh, let everybody hear! They should feel lucky they get to witness such a sound …”

Tom tilted his head, his toes curling in his socks as he readied himself for the start of his official third session.

“Whatever you say, big guy …”

Miller looked at Andrew with a satisfied expression.

“Big guy! You were right …” Miller took his right hand and hovered it over Tom’s left sole, “… He really can be cocky …”

Tom began to giggle, his feet twisting, his toes flexing out in his ticklers grasp as Andrew’s hand mirrored Miller’s movements.

Tom straightened his back, his legs kicking forcefully as he threw his torso forwards and grinned with eyes wide open.

“AH! ST-STOP—”

Andrew turned over his shoulder where he looked at Tom in disappointment.

“Holland! We literally haven’t even touched you yet!”

Tom straightened his posture and narrowed his eyes at Andrew.

“Andy! I’m really ticklish! Seriously, you know what I’m like, this shouldn’t be a surprise to you!”

Miller placed all five fingertips against Tom’s left socked sole … Not tickling it or even moving his fingers, just keeping them gently in position.

“My goodness …”

Miller’s excitement lifted as he felt Tom’s left leg stiffen up.

“Mill, Miller, big guy, come on, mate, mate …” Tom couldn’t control the babble coming out of his mouth.

“This is going to be hotter than I thought …” Miller felt himself fall into the role of ruthless tickler as he took his watering eyes from Tom’s socked foot to Andrew, “He really is out of this world ticklish, isn’t he?”

Andrew nodded just the once.

“You’ve had them all, Mils. I think you said that Chalamet was your most sensitive? Well, imagine that, but times a thousand …” Andrew corrected himself, “… No, times a million …"

Andrew provided an example of Tom’s hyper sensitivity by wiggling his fingers around Tom’s right foot, not touching the white cotton material of his sock, a movement that still made Tom kick his leg and giggle uncontrollably as he watched Andrew tease him.

“I’m gonna die!” Tom repeated, “I’m gonna die! This is nuts, this is bloody nuts …” he panted.

Miller gasped quietly, stunned by Tom’s almost unnatural levels of ultra, hyper ticklishness.

“We haven’t even hit his bare underarms yet …” Miller said, mostly to himself, “ … I haven’t even asked him to be tickled na— ”

—Andrew caught Miller’s glance and held it in a focused stare.

“—Mils,” he said, “You’ve struck gold with this one.”

“Lads!” Tom cried, “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not in the room? It’s a, a little rude …”

Miller raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, a little rude, is it?”

He then began to stroke his fingertips across Tom’s left sole as Andrew started to do the same to Tom’s right.

“Is this a little rude, Tom?” Andrew asked.

Tom began to kick his legs in and out as his torso fell over the bed, his back landing on the mattress with a heavy bounce, the metal hooks between his ankle cuffs not attached, allowing him to try to pull his calves out of their arm lock with several strong but unsuccessful tugs.

“Yes!” He admitted, his upper body twisting from side to side as Andrew and Miller continued to gently stroke their fingertips across the socked soles of his feet, “Yes, yeah, yup, that’s a, a little rude—”

“—We’ll stop being rude,” Andrew tightened his arm lock, keeping Tom’s foot right by his pec as he continued to ever so softly explore his socked toes with all five fingertips, barely touching him, “After all, you said it yourself, we’re not that bad …”

Tom jumped forwards, his hands twisting around his side in a frantic attempt to reach out to Andrew, his legs kicking, his eyes widening …

“Alright, boys, lads, guys, ticklers, whatever you want to be soddin’ called — stop it, come on …”

He fell back once again in a defeated tumble as soon as Miller started to tickle Tom’s toes as well, barely adding pressure to the touch, the tickling simply gentle brushing for now …

“Oh bloody hell—” Tom arched his back so high his stomach muscles stretched out, his abs glistening, “—this is, this is bloody crazy! Your both bloody nuts, I mean each to their own but bloody hell!”

Miller and Andrew groaned as they struggled to keep Tom’s feet either on their lap or within their arm lock as the young man kicked and thrashed, his strong legs forcing both men forwards and backwards over the edge of the bed as he continued to squirm and writhe behind them.

“For simple … Graghh!—” Miller bit his lower lip, “—Sock tickling … Grrr!—” He tightened his arm lock, “—This is a pretty intense … Grr, reaction — damn — this is how ticklee’s respond with their socks OFF—”

—Andrew felt a thin layer of sweat develop over his upper lip as he continued to stroke Tom’s socked toes, whilst keeping his foot in place with all the strength of his right arm.

“He’s never … Grrr!—” Andrew almost let Tom’s foot slip out of his arm lock, “—He’s never h, had the brush on his … Gragh!—” Another forceful set of yanks, this time some quiet yelps from behind also, “—Ssss-soles! If you think this is a lot, just you wait, he’s gonna go bananas, Mils!”

Tom, whilst still giggling and kicking, decided to remind his ticklers that they were, once again, talking about him like he wasn’t sat behind them …

“Lads, I’m right HERE—” He shouted.

Miller stopped stroking Tom’s foot, wiping some perspiration off his forehead as he exhaled deeply.

“You’re what we call an S.L.S,” Miller declared, as Andrew also slowed down the brushing of his fingertips, “A Strong Little Shit … And you’re far, far more ticklish than I anticipated. All we’ve done is barely stroke your socked feet and you’ve worn us out with your struggling …” Miller ran a hand through his grey quiff of hair, “Okay, al, alright, let’s do it now. Let’s do it right now.”

Andrew kept Tom’s leg from yanking out of their hold by tightening his armlock around Tom’s ankle.

“Already?” Andrew asked.

Tom winced as he sat up, his feet still in each of his tickler’s arm locks, his hands still tied behind his back.

Miller turned to Andrew, his eyes almost cartoon-ish with excitement.

“If I’m honest,” he said, “I can’t wait a second longer … But first …”

Miller un-cuffed Tom’s right ankle, allowing the restraint to fall to the carpet …

… He then began to pull off Tom’s sock.

“Oh,” Tom smirked, the foot fetish being the only fetish he was aware of, before being introduced to this world, “The big reveal …” he said.

Miller narrowed his eyes in focus as he slowly began to peel Tom’s sock away from his foot.

Andrew did the same, his eyes glancing up at you, the reader.

“I’ve seen Tom’s feet before, but yeah, uh …” Andrew puts on a dramatic voice as he speaks to you, “Ohhh, The Big Reveaaaaal ahhhh …”

Tom sat in silence as both ticklers took their time in removing his socks, his bare soles greeting by air-con with every inch of material making its way off his feet.

“This is why we don’t rush things,” Miller explained, “This is why we don’t speed things up, we take our time, when it comes to perfection…” he parted his lips, his jaw falling open as the sock finally popped away from the toes of Tom’s right foot, “… Perfection such as this …”

As Tom’s right sock fell to the floor, Andrew slid his left sock off Tom’s foot, where it joined it’s brother on the carpet.

Tom’s toes curled naturally.

Miller looked down at the bare foot in his armlock; it’s attractive shape, creamy white sole, silky smooth skin, inline toes and well kept toe nails…

Miller laughed in bewilderment as he looked at Andrew, saying words he had never said before in his fifty five years of living:

“I’m looking for flaws,” he said, “But I can’t find any.”

Tom 🤝🏼 Hairbrush

Miller and Andrew stood at the other side of the hotel room with their backs leant against the wall.

Miller stroked his chin in thought whilst Andrew tucked his hands into his pockets.

They both dreamily gazed over at Tom, who lay on the hotel bed on his stomach, with his bare feet crossed at the ankle, his peachy, jockstrap filled ass glistening in the sunlight, his upper body propped up by his elbows as he texted his girlfriend on his iPhone whilst sipping on champagne, cuffs still strapped to his wrists and ankles, but not attached.

You know,” Miller whispered quietly, not directing his words to Andrew as he continued to admire Tom, “When I started this, years ago, I never felt satisfied. I’ve had Brad Pitt, Tom fucking Cruise, Leonardo DiCaprio …” he shifted his eyes briefly over to Andrew with a smirk, “… I’ve had you …” he then returned his stare to the boy on the bed, “… But him …? Looking like that … Being as … Severely ticklish as he is … I, I, I—”

“—It’s gotta be a hogtie,” Andrew declared, keen to break Miller out of his unusual trance, a trance he used to be able to control, until meeting Tom.

Miller raised his eyebrows.

“I have portable stocks in my suitcase, toe ties, a blind fold … You sure they’re not better, in terms of ensuring the strongest restriction?” Miller questioned.

Andrew shook his head, fighting his cause in a whisper.

“He was in The Tickle Chair last time … Because he can’t move so much, he just screams. You want squirming, Mils. Those bed sheets he’s laying on? They need to be creased, drenched in sweat, the pillows on the floor …” Andrew ran his tongue across the roof of his mouth, “… Believe me, it has to be a —”

“—Hogtie,” Tom finished his ticklers debate for them, dropping his phone on the mattress as he took a final sip from his almost empty glass of champagne, “If I’ve never been tickled with a hairbrush before, then you might as well tie me in a way I’ve never been tied before …” Tom peeled his torso away from the bed as he sat himself in the cross legged position, “… Get your moneys worth, and all that.”

Miller blinked.

“He has super hearing, too …”

Both ticklers grinned as they nudged themselves away from the wall and began to prepare for the next part of the session.

“Same place as always?” Andrew asked Miller.

Miller nodded as he began to readjust the tripod, ensuring the camera sat securely attached to its neck.

Andrew headed towards Miller’s gym back and delved a right hand inside, retrieving lengths of white rope from the bags contents.

Tom watched Andrew approach him with a sinister expression over his face.

“An, Andy … Don’t look at me like that …”

“Look at you like what, Holland?” Andrew used his index finger to suggest to Tom that he lay on his front, by twirling it in the air.

Tom shuffled into position, planting himself over the bed, face down.

“Like you’re about to string me up, like some piece of meat …” Tom mumbled into the mattress.

Andrew crawled onto the bed, shrugging off his bomber jacket as he curled his hand around Tom’s ankles, lifting them away from the bed where he pressed the boys heels against the flesh of his butt cheeks.

“Isn’t that exactly what I’m about to do?” Andrew began to tie black rope around Tom’s ankles, staring down at his feet as he did so, taking in their ticklish landscape from heel to toe … So much so that he found himself unable to simply—

“—Andrew!”

Tom twisted around and grabbed at Andrew’s hand as Andrew slid an index finger across the bottom of his right foot.

“What?” Andrew played dumb, “I just like touching that cute tattoo of yours. And besides, you’re in for far worse than a finger slip …”

Tom let go of Andrews hand and rested his head on his arms, “… It wasn’t a finger slip …” he muttered in annoyance.

Once Andrew had successfully tied Tom’s ankles together, he began to tie his ankles to his thighs by looping rope around the area just under Tom’s left butt cheek.

Tom gasped and jolted suddenly as Andrew’s hand reached under his hip.

“Careful …” Tom warned, “… I’m seriously, like, ticklish everywhere …”

Andrew wrapped the rope around Tom’s upper thigh once, twice, three times, purposefully actioning tickles around his hip as he did so, causing Tom to squirm under his touch and giggle into his fists.

“Are you, Tom? I really hadn’t noticed …” Andrew winked at Miller.

Miller smirked, aroused by watching both young men and their flirtatious banter, mixed with Andrew’s playful tickling, a combination that provided the perfect form of erotic entertainment.

Andrew started to do the same amount of rope work around Tom’s right thigh, practically gathering more bondage around the straps of his jockstrap, which only furthermore lifted the boys butt cheeks into a higher, plumper, far juicier squish than ever before, a squish that was so tight it concealed Tom’s hole, something the twenty six year old felt quite relieved by.

Andrew wiped some sweat from his upper lip, “I forgot how exhausting this was …” he then carefully took Tom’s wrists, clipped the cuffs together and pinned them at the bottom of his spine where he started to attach his wrists to his ankles with the rope.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Miller joked, putting on a Kris Jenner style voice.

Andrew jumped off the bed, stepping back to admire his work.

“Try and get out,” Andrew ordered, whilst tilting his neck into a click.

Tom grunted and groaned as he squirmed over the bed sheets in the hogtie, his stomach peeling off the mattress as he arched his back, his ass round and shiny in the bright light beaming through the windows, his arm and calf muscles straining as he twisted and turned, rolled and kicked …

… And then he deflated in a huff, looking to the side at Andrew.

“I can’t,” Tom explained, in a deep, grainy growl.

Miller smiled peacefully.

He then turned to Andrew, nodding at him just the once.

Andrew lowered his head in understanding.

He turned away from Tom and picked up the desk chair, lifting it like a gorilla where he took it to the tripod, landing it gently beside the camera, taking his seat, respecting his ‘on the bench’ position and the fact that this was technically Millers session, not his.

Andrew crossed his leg at the knee and folded his arms across his chest, containing his bubbling jealously as Miller began to climb onto the bed.

Tom felt nerves boil in his chest as he laughed nervously, Miller’s muscular and powerful presence now pressing against his shins where the expert tickler gathered Tom’s already scrunched up feet against his chest.

The tops of Tom’s feet were now planted against each of Miller’s pecs.

Miller reached across the bed and opened up the box Tom had delivered to this hotel room.

From inside he removed the first of two effective tools - a small pot of vaseline.

“Tell the paying audience, Tom, how you have never had your feet tickled by a hairbrush …” Miller dabbed his fingertips into the pot and curled his arm around Tom’s ankles.

In his position Tom couldn’t turn to face Miller, so he instead angled his head to the side and murmured past bedsheets caught under his chin, his face aimed at the camera and Andrew three feet away.

“I’ve uh, I’ve never had my feet tickled by a hairbrush,” Tom clenched his teeth, “Aghh, what, what is that …?

Tom’s feet tried to criss cross over each other as Miller gently rubbed vaseline into his soles.

“It’s vaseline. Usually, we’d use baby oil or lotion, but for feet as … Exceptionally ticklish as yours, we need something that won’t be drying out so quickly …”

Tom growled into the mattress as Miller actioned some fingernail tickles around his toes as he applied the glistening jelly, stroking Tom’s now shimmering soles with a cheeky grin …

Tom snarled and panted, his fists clenching, his toes curling up tightly.

“Alright,” Tom snapped, “That’s enough of the lube, you’re using loads!”

Miller used Tom’s butt cheeks to pat his fingertips clean, dropping the pot back into the box afterwards.

He stared down at Tom’s feet, his toes still scrunched, his feet still passionately crossed over each other as a form of protection.

From his perspective, Miller could make out every single detail of Tom’s silky soles, their shape from toe to heel; as well as his juicy butt and smooth, muscular back, Andrew’s rope work around his thighs, wrists and ankles …

… A ticklish specimen ready for him to devour.

“… What a view I have …” Miller drooled.

Tom chuckled nervously as he un-flexed his toes, his feet feeling a little cold now they were so soaked in lubrication.

Andrew watched on, tugging at the growing girth beneath his jeans …

The sight of Tom so submissive and hogtied, with Miller so powerful and knelt behind his feet …

It provided a visual that felt too overwhelming to compare to anything else Andrew had ever seen.

“Alright, Tom,” Miller picked out the second tool from the box, “There are some rules, regarding what is about to happen to you next. I don’t often allow safe words, however I think you’re gonna need it,” he twirled the hairbrush in his hand expertly, as if he were a cowboy with a pistol in the wild west, his other arm gathering Tom’s lubed up feet closer to his chest, “Your safe word is ‘blue’ and you can use it whenever you like. But you can only use it once. Saying it will end this part of the session, however, the twist is you will not be able to use your safe word when we go at your armpits afterwards…”

Miller began to stroke Tom’s left sole with his index finger.

“… Does that make sense?” He asked.

Tom’s left leg kicked forwards, a grunt leaving his lips.

“Yes,” he muttered breathlessly, “Fuck, fuck the lube makes it feel worse …” Tom couldn’t hide the worry in his voice.

Miller continued to drag his finger in a torturous circle around Tom’s vaseline soaked left arch.

“So, you decide, whether you endure this session to the very end, and have a safe word for your underarm session, or you choose to end this earlier and endure your underarm session without a s—”

“—I get it,” Tom blurted out in frustration, “Mate, I can barely take your finger, Christ knows what I’ll do—”

Miller smirked.

“—Alright. I’m gonna go slow …” Miller advised, “… And then I’m sticking to my promise …”

Tom raised his eyebrows in concern as the hairbrush landed gently over all ten of his toes.

“Your, your p, promise?”

Miller nodded, slowly dragging the plastic bristles of the hairbrush ever so gently across Tom’s scrunched up toes, toes that had so fiercely curled up that they had successfully closed all of the gaps between them.

“My promise to turn you into a dribbling mess …”

Tom felt the mind numbing sensory overload tighten around the sides of his head, causing his back to arch, his eyes to squeeze shut, as Miller began to slide the brush slowly from left to right …

… Right to left …

… Left to right …

Tom’s nostrils flared as he inhaled a large chunk of air …

“—God—” Tom could barely stand it, “Oh Christ—” he couldn’t help but allow disbelief to wash over him, “—Aghaha! Agh! Agh! Aghah! Jesus!”

Miller maintained a slow and steady scrape, not pushing down too hard, whilst still implementing an even press over Tom’s toes as the young man tried to criss cross his feet over one another in a dire attempt to either block away the brush, or to nudge it away …

“I’ve never had any ticklee react like this before,” Miller turned to Andrew, “The brush is barely touching him …”

Tom’s hands curled around the straps of his jock, almost as if he needed to hold onto something to endure the circumstance taking place at the bottoms of his feet …

His eyes had remained squeezed shut since the brush had started it’s teasing glide, the bristles only ever so often making impact with his toes before lifting away from his soles.

He bucked and bounced, his face already blushing a shade of pink, the long spine of his back bending upward as he tried to pull his feet away from Miller’s chest.

“He’s got some fierce strength,” Andrew commented, “I can see it. He’s using every ounce of energy he has to break free …”

The rope binding Tom squeaked as he yanked his arms further up his back - a move that only pulled his feet closer towards his butt - however, Miller’s tight hold around his ankles was too secure to allow them to leave his grasp.

“Come on, Tom, let it all out …” Miller urged, as he watched the boy vibrate beneath him, his entire body stiff and rigid with the various attempts at pulling at his hogtie, “… The harder you squirm, the more the ropes tighten … And the more you contain your hysteria, the louder it’ll be later on …”

Tom grunted just once, “—Grughh—” before twisting his head to the side, his eyes snapping open to glare at Andrew, who sat peacefully beside the tripod and camera, enjoying the scene before him, “—Yup, the brush is the worst—” Tom confirmed, “—I officially — agh! I of, officially bloody hate the brush—” he bit his upper lip in focus, dealing with the fact that Miller had now started to slide the brush away from Tom’s toes and further down the lubricated expanse of his soles, mainly towards the high arches that made up the middle of his feet.

Tom thrashed …

He bucked on the spot, his entire hogtied body bouncing not just once …

… But twice, three times …

… And then a fourth …

Thrash! Thrash! Bounce! Bounce!

“God damn!” Miller curled his arm tighter around Tom’s ankles, he shuffled closer towards Tom’s shins so he could feel them press harder against the front of his body, he dragged the hairbrush over each arch with a harder, more powerful rub … “Keep still, tiger—”

“—No, please,” Tom became breathless, “Please?” He repeated, all ten of his toes now flexing out in a manic stretch, “Alright, we, we get it, the brush — AH! AH—HAH! It, it works! It tickles— AGH!— It tickles too much—I can’t stand it—”

Both Andrew and Miller chuckled in delight as they watched Tom’s face boil from pink to a deep shade of red.

“Hmmm … I still need some convincing …” Miller teased, the brush now sliding from left to right over Tom’s heels.

Once again, Tom sprung upward in his hogtied position, as if jolted with an electric stick.

“NO—” he shouted, bursts of laughter escaping his throat in random shouts, “AH! AHAH! HAA—HOH-KAY—HOH-KHAY, HOH-KAY—” he cried, “—ALRIGHT—”

“No you’ve had enough?” Miller asked, the bristles scraping over Tom’s lubricated heels, their plastic nibs brushing over the silky soft, creamy white skin that made up the ticklish landscape of both soles of his feet, “Or okay, alright, keep going …?”

Tom began to giggle incessantly, the giggles deep and grainy, from the very depths of his stomach; giggles that were so strained and uncontrollable that they thickened his throat and caused his lips to swell …

He then produced a sound Miller hadn’t heard before; one word repeated non stop, in one long sentence, with no breaks in-between …

Tom heaved in through his nose and then hysterically expelled a long,

“—alrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalrightalright—”

To Tom, he knew he was saying ‘alright, alright, alright’ …

But to Miller and Andrew, it just sounded like Tom was doing an impression of a broken car engine …

Hearing such a sound, seeing Tom hogtied beneath him in such a way, it all made Miller almost not want to go harder …

Already, Tom was demonstrating the kind of reactions from someone who had been tickled by the hairbrush, hardcore, for longer than thirty minutes …

So far for Tom, it had only been seven …

Miller paused momentarily, allowing Tom a moment to catch his breath.

He yanked off his t-shirt, revealing a grey hairy chest, structured tanned abs, broad shoulders and glistening, tanned skin.

“Alright indeed …” Miller whispered.

Andrew raised his eyebrows.

Miller threw his tee across the room and then, without warning, he gathered Tom’s feet tighter against his chest and began to action a severe tickling over both of his soles at once, ensuring that the brush and it’s many bristles scrubbed across the bottoms of Tom’s vaseline soaked feet at a merciless and repetitively speedy rate …

Andrew’s mouth dropped as he watched Tom react.

At first there was a violent twist, almost as if every fibre of Tom’s being, every atom that made up his body, every molecule on his skin was taken by surprise; shocked by the feeling, insulted by the suddenness, overwhelmed by the senses that had been unwillingly violated …

And then, in less than a millisecond of Miller’s ruthless attack, Tom had been reduced to a groaning, moaning, breathless mess, his legs kicking frantically in his hogtied position as he bounced and bucked around over the bedsheets, Miller now having no choice but to pin the young man in place by wrapping his arm harder and tighter around the boys ankles as he focused on one thing and one thing only; rubbing that hairbrush across both of Tom’s soles, constantly, without stopping, no matter how much the remaining kindness in his heart told him he should …

… Left to right, right to left, side to side, up and down, down and up …

Just when Andrew and Miller thought such an act was only able to produce deep growls and more physical writhes and convulsions, Tom delivered exceptionally and without even meaning to …

By providing the most beautiful sound of complete and utter senseless laughter …

It filled the hotel room from floor to ceiling, landing against walls, finding its way into corners, into the bathroom, against the windows and through both Andrew and Millers eardrums.

It was loud, thoughtless, bellowing, howling, breathless, unconsidered, mental and non stop …

As if this moment, right now, it was the most he had been tickled, the most ticklish he had felt, in all his years of living …

His feet twisted and turned, his toes curled and scrunched, his arms bent and stretched, his fists clenched into balls, his eyes began to water …

A long, steady, unbroken, “AAAAAGHHHH-AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAA! heave —AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA—AAGHHHHH! heave —AHGHHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAGHAAAAAAAAGAHAHAHA—” left Tom’s mouth as his body shaped itself out into unnatural distorts, his limbs positioning themselves in any way they could to at least try to pull his feet free from Miller’s grasp …

But Miller kept them right by his chest, Tom’s ticklish soles pinned perfectly in place, now unable to twist and cross over each other due to being so tightly trapped against Miller’s torso.

Miller’s right arm ached more than he could handle, but handling it was also part of the mission statement; dealing with the discomfort, so he could continue to push Tom as far as he possibly could, so he could feel the tops of Tom’s feet rub and squirm constantly against the hairs of his chest, a feeling that made the dull ache more than worth it …

Tom began to try and control his own breathing by pushing the laughter down, stuffing it past the back of his throat as his mouth began to shape out words, words that would be the first time he had properly begged since the brush had reached hard core levels of tickling …

“Ohgodpleaseyou’vegottastop—” he said all at once, “—Ican’tevenseeanymore”— he explained —”ComeonI’vegottears…!”

As Tom twisted his head to the side, Miller caught glimpse of the side of his face, a face saturated in red, a single tear of exhaustion leaving his left eye, some bubbles of foam forming a the corners of his mouth.

“Is that dribbling, Tom? Dribbling as well as crying?” Miller cheered.

Tom hid his face by burying it into the bed, screaming out into the mattress, the high pitched cries muffled by the beds structure

As the realisation that it wouldn’t stop until he said his safe word landed in Tom’s mind, Tom decided to try a different survival tactic, besides begging …

He began to use his hands to reach out to Miller.

His body twisted to the right, his fingers flexed and stretched, they wiggled closer towards the handle of the brush …

A layer of sweat formed over the top of Tom’s lip as he focused on at least trying to cover his soles by planting his hands over them …

However, in his hogtied position they could only hide parts of his heels, leaving the rest of his feet open and exposed to Miller’s attacks …

Miller simply laughed at Tom’s attempts, the brushes vigorous left to right rub still on going, still taking place, still not stopping …

Suddenly, success!

“AGH!” Tom cried, “AGHAAA YES, YES, YES, YES—”

He snatched the hairbrush out of Miller’s grasp and held onto it for dear life, his soles momentarily given a break whether Miller liked it or not.

Miller grinned, shooting excited eyes to Andrew.

“There’s two more hairbrushes in the bathroom … Wanna join in?”

Tom craned his neck up to Andrew, his jaw dropping.

“No—” his voice left his lips soaked in dread, “No! You, you bloody stay there, you, you bloody stay there, Andrew!”

Andrew jumped into a standing position and clapped his palms together just once.

He hopped into the bathroom and clambered around Miller’s toilettires, past the expensive colongue and face masks until he discovered two more hairbrushes.

As he walked towards the bed, hairbrushes in hand, Tom began to growl at Andrew.

“You, you better stay there, Andy, you better stay there, you even dare join in and I’m gonna kill you I swear to God!” Tom whined.

Andrew climbed onto the mattress and shuffled beside Miller.

“Oh, I can’t not join in, Holland …” Andrew explained, his words delivered in a dramatic tone, “… I just can’t …” 

Andrew then took Tom’s left foot from Miller and held it against his chest, whilst Miller took his right foot and held it against his chest …

With both feet so tightly tied together, now pinned against the front of two torso’s, Tom had no choice but to endure two hairbrushes at once, both soles tickled at the same time, by two of Hollywoods most relentless ticklers.

“Bloody hell, this is gonna suck,” Tom panted, “This is gonna sss—uuuuu—UUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHK!”

They began without hesitation, throwing their hairbrushes over the bottoms of Tom’s feet immediately, causing Tom to scream, shout and moan into the hotel room as hysteria overwhelmed him, taking over him entirely, reducing him to a distressed, bouncing mess that could only cry out laughter and buck around on the spot like a fish out of water.

“NOOOOOO—NOOOOOOO—NOOO! NOOOOO! NOOOOOOOAHAHA—AHAHAAAHAHA—AHAHAHA—AAHHAHA—AHAHAH—AHHH—AHHH—AAHHH—OH GOD PLEASE, PLEASE STOP—”

As Andrew rubbed his brush in a side to side motion, Miller rubbed his up and down, causing Tom’s back to arch and his thighs to spread, where he unknowingly exposed his hole, a hairless space between his cheeks that stared Miller and Andrew directly in the eye.

Tom’s jock just about contained his balls …

With all the squirming and bouncing, one ball teased the possibility of slipping out, but during this moment in time it remained mostly contained within the black cotton cup, the straps to Tom’s jock twisted around each of his cheeks.

Tom had no idea the underwear he had been made to wear was in this state - nor did he care - all that mattered was enduring this intense onslaught of tickle torture, tickle torture that challenged him so much it almost made him feel like he might pass out …

“STOP—” Tom spat, breathing in hair as quickly as he could before he laughed it all back out again, “—STOP—” he’d shout again, just as more air filled his lungs, only to release itself into the mattress like it had done countless times before and just like it would do countless times again, until he either said his safe word, or his ticklers decided to give him a break …

However, it was quite clear that showing mercy was not on his ticklers minds …

“STOP—STOP—STOP—STOP—STOP—” Tom dropped the brush in his hand and stretched his fingers and arms as far out to Andrew and Miller’s attacks as he could, where he began to claw at their tools with manic rage, unsuccessfully grabbing at them even if he thought he might, just might, be able to fight back …

As well as being utterly sadistic, both Miller and Andrew had another thing in common; they loved to hear their ticklee verbalise what was happening to them.

Together, they pressed Tom for such verbalisation.

“Stop what?” Miller asked.

“Yeah, stop what, Holland?” Andrew repeated, his tongue hooking over his upper lip as he glared down at Tom’s sole, a sole he currently tickled with a slow, pressurised drag of the bristles, whilst Miller took the speedier rub over the toes of the foot he still contained at this chest.

Tom lifted his head and screamed out into the hotel room, “STOP, STOP, STOP PLEASE, I CAN’T DO THIS, ANYTHING BUT THIS—”

“Stop what, Tom?” Miller urged.

“PLEASE, PLEASE STOP, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—” with Tom’s legs more or less pinned against the fronts of his ticklers body, all he could do was lift his torso in a repetitive bounce where his stomach and chest smacked down over the bed in a non stop buck, the sheets now a little damp with sweat, the pillows scattered across the carpet.

“Stop what!” Andrew felt his girth grow as he acknowledged the puddle of perspiration gathered at the bottom of Tom’s spine, proving just how hard he was finding this session, “Tell us! Stop what?”

Tom provided the words Andrew and Miller wanted to hear in the form of a quiet, breathless mutter, a mutter that left his lips in a quick, grainy splurt.

“Stopticklingme—”

His ticklers weren’t satisfied.

Left to right, side to side, right, to left, soles and toes, arches and heels, the plastic bristles didn’t stop …

“Stop tickling you where?” Miller hooked his thumb and index finger around Tom’s big toe, catching it tightly, rubbing the hairbrush over the silky smooth pad, a sweet spot he had located during this once in a lifetime moment …

Tom’s laughter became drenched in lunacy, it’s tone and volume high pitched and filled with despair mixed with hysteria, the focus on his big toe nudging him closer towards the idea of shouting his safe word.

“—MY FEET MY SOLES MY TOES — AHAHAHAAA! AAAHHH! AGHAHHHH! AHAHAHA! AHHHHH! AGHHH!—I LITERALLY CAN’T TAKE IT—”

“—Then you know what to do!” Andrew mirrored Miller’s technique where he chose to also focus on rubbing his hairbrush over Tom’s right big toe, “Say your safe word!”

Tom’s fingers began to ache, so trying to grab at his tickler’s tools was something he could no longer do …

He couldn’t carry on being tickled like this, not for a second longer — he would have to say his safe word now and just endure the armpit session without the option of choosing to end it …

His feet had never been tickled like this before …

He had no idea his feet could feel this ticklish, that someone could be made to break like this; not just a crumble or a snap, but a full on decimation, annihilation, a demolition of senses and physical endurance …

As Tom went to say his safe word, his mind hit a blank wall.

His feet twisted and stretched, his back arched again, once more exposing that tiny hole and hairless taint …

He turned around to face his ticklers, showcasing a face soaked with sweat, bloodshot eyes, swollen lips …

“What’s, what’s my safe word again?” He asked.

Andrew and Miller cheered in delight as they continued to work their brushes over Tom’s soles.

“OHHHHHH!” Andrew shot excited eyes into the ceiling, Miller chuckled in complete and utter joy …

“He’s forgotten what his safe word is!” Miller cackled as he ran the brush away from Tom’s big toe, sliding it back down to the silky expanse of his sole, “You’re gonna have to remember it, kid, otherwise we’re not going anywhere!” 

“No—” Tom’s vision had now blurred, his body bucking over the sweat patch beneath him, the bed shaking, his ticklers still knelt in their position, still going, not stopping, enjoying his memory loss more than they could describe, “—Pl, please, tell me what it is! I, I want to say it, I HAVE TO SAY IT— I’m done! I can’t take this anymore! What was it! What was it? What was—”

“—You’re gonna have to remember,” Andrew shrugged.

“Fuck, this is so good —” Miller smirked.

Tom wriggled and jumped as Andrew uncurled his arm from his ankle and instead rubbed the brush against a now free kicking sole, whilst tickling his right hip unexpectedly.

“—NO, PLEASE— JUST, JUST TELL ME— BLOODY FUCK I WISH I COULD REMEMBER, WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER—”

“Maybe tickling that butt of yours might help you …” Andrew suggested.

“NO, NOT MY ARSE—” Tom spat, “DON’T TICKLE MY ARSE!” He cried, using both of his hands to plant them over his cheeks.

Miller and Andrew dropped their brushes.

Miller used his hands to pull Tom’s hands away from his ass, whilst Andrew used all ten of his fingers to tickle around Tom’s butt, exploring his taint and cheeks with his fingernails, their scratch and tickle causing Tom’s cheeks to jiggle beneath Andrew’s touch.

Tom twisted and thrashed, growling out heavy giggles and manic shouts as his mind continued to face a brick wall of blankness, the delirium in his head stopping him from reaching into the past in an attempt to remember the safe word Miller had told him he could use.

His thinking became blended in with his begging, the noises leaving his mouth a perfect example of insanity riddled reactions from such intense tickling over a space of his body only explored by himself or his girlfriend …

“WHAT WAS IT—” Tom heaved into the bedsheets, “—BLOODY HELL, NOT MY ARSE, IT’S TOO TICKLISH—” he bit into the cotton, shouting with his mouth full, “—PLEASE, PL, PLEASE, MY GOD, NOT MY BUM, WHAT WAS IT, MY ARSE, BLOODY HELL, NOT THERE, I CAN’T—”

Tom began to give up on trying to remember, his inner self questioning how much this tickled, if they’d ever stop, if they’d ever let him go …

…How can you be in this position? How can you be this ticklish? How can you let not just one person, but two people do this to you?

You.

You.

Blue.

“—BLUE!” Tom cried, “BLUE, BLUE, BLUE!” He screamed, “BAAAALLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…!” He shouted.

As Tom’s brain reminded him that the safe word rhymed with the word ‘you’, his tickler’s stopped their torment almost immediately, respectful to the rules, even if it had taken Tom a little longer than expected to even recall the safe word itself.

Miller and Andrew crawled away from Tom, sliding off the bed where they both shook hands and patted each others back, celebrating one of the finest tickle sessions they’d ever taken part in.

Tom groaned out exhaustion, his body slumping, his weight sinking into the bed as he relaxed his arms and legs, still in their hogtied position.

He panted and huffed, dealt with the burn in his lungs and the aching throb at the back of his neck …

He turned his head to Miller and Andrew, his hair wet with perspiration.

“I’m … I’m gonna need some more cham, champagne ….” He croaked.

Miller and Andrew glanced at each other where they both grinned, acknowledging in unison how incredible this moment was … Their sadistic expression completely unaware of the unplanned circumstance and astonishing moment that would come along with the armpit session in just five minutes time …

“I’m not gonna c-cum …”

Tom lay untied on his back, his shoulders squashed against the beds pillows, his legs crossed at the ankle.

He triumphantly sipped on a third glass of champagne as Andrew and Miller lay on their side, one tickler to Tom’s left, the other to his right.

“So, what was the worst part, Holland?” Andrew asked, his right hand lifting to tweak at Tom’s right nipple.

Tom, mid sip, almost splurted out his drink as he smacked away Andrew’s hand.

“Stop it!” Tom winced, hissing up some bubbles from his lips, “Stop touching me! For just a bloody second …”

Miller propped up his elbow and rested his head on his hand, gazing at Tom with a dreamy stare.

“I know what his worst part was,” Miller cocked an eyebrow, “Don’t I, Tom …”

Tom kept the champagne glass at his lips, squished between both men, avoiding their gaze for now and choosing to remain silent, giving Miller’s statement no response.

Tom couldn’t help but smile; despite being so overwhelmed by such intense tickle torture, he felt a little flattered that the two individuals either side of him couldn’t take their eyes off his body at this moment in time …

“Say it,” Andrew urged, another tweak at Tom’s nipple suggesting he wanted the answer sooner than later, “I want to hear you say it …”

Tom smacked Andrew’s hand away once again, shaking his head in frustration as he shot a look at Miller.

“If what you say matches what I’ve got in my head,” Tom finished his champagne in one quick swig, “Then you really are the master tickler Andrew says you are …”

Miller looked across Tom’s chest to Andrew, who blushed at him quietly.

Their hundreds of sessions together, the years of experiences, their entire past all summed up in a few seconds by a gentle shade of pink presenting itself across Andrew’s cheeks.

“It was all of it,” Miller announced, “As soon as the hairbrush landed on his feet, when the two of us went at him at the same time, to the point where we focused on his big toes and he forgot his safe word … Every single second, from start to finish, no specific moment of hell … Because, all if it was hell … Am I right, kid?”

Tom folded his arms across his chest, allowing a beat of silence to rest between he and his two ticklers.

He then nodded slowly, smirking at Miller.

“Every single bloody second sucked. I’ve never experienced anything quite like that, lads.”

Tom chuckled into his empty glass, his lighter mood blamed on the alcohol resting in his tummy, as well as the wave of relief that kept washing over him, a reminder that the tickling had finished …

… For now …

“Maybe you can let us do it all over again?” Andrew teased, as he began to crawl down to Tom’s feet.

“No!” Tom spat, his knees bending, his soles planting themselves down over the bedsheets, “You’ve had your fun with them, they can’t take anymore!”

Miller carefully took Tom’s champagne glass out of his hand and placed it down on the bedside table.

He then curled his hand around Tom’s right wrist, lifting it above his head, exposing his underarm …

Miller swung his left thigh over Tom’s waist, straddling him as Andrew gathered Tom’s kicking feet in his arms, his fingertips now working their way across his toes.

“No! No! Please—” a different kind of a worried tone presented itself with Tom’s voice as Miller began to aim his index finger into Tom’s right armpit …

Tom used his left hand to grab at Miller’s index finger, his tired strength not strong enough to stop Miller from pointing into Tom’s armpit, causing the twenty six year old to buck and bounce on the spot without even being touched.

“—I’M GONNA PISS MYSELF!” Tom shouted.

Andrew and Miller paused, relaxing their sudden and threatening bodily entrapment around Tom as the young man croaked out a genuine moment of concern.

“I’ve, I’ve had too much champagne …” Tom mumbled, his hand still tight around Miller’s index finger, his arm still pinned above his head, “… Please, come on, lads, at least let me go for a piss. An, and then, we can carry on …”

Miller glanced down at Tom’s abs.

He nodded just once, un-straddling him whilst letting go of his wrist.

Andrew let go of Tom’s feet.

Tom shuffled up and away from the bed, where he adjusted his jockstrap and stumbled towards the ensuite bathroom.

He turned on the spot, bouncing on his toes as he held his hands up in apology.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I just have to go, I’ll be two seconds …”

As he disspeared into the bathroom and the sound of his piss landing into the toilet echoed out into the hotel room, Andrew and Miller looked at each other with a look of pity.

“How can he be so kind, after all we’ve done to him?” Miller asked Andrew.

Andrew kept his eyes on the ensuite bathroom, his shoulders lifting in an uncertain shrug.

“That, Miller, is a mystery.”

***

Andrew couldn’t help but brush a knuckle up the sole of Tom’s right foot, as soon as he had finished securing his right ankle to the bottom right corner of the bed.

Tom kicked his leg, narrowing his eyes in frustration as glared over his chest at both of his feet, feet that had been strapped to each corner of the bed he currently lay on.

Flat on his back, Tom huffed and glanced back up to the ceiling as he readied his wrists to be cuffed in bondage …

However, to his surprise, Andrew didn’t restrain his hands.

Instead, Andrew climbed onto the bed, carefully took Tom’s wrists and lifted them above his head.

Tom shifted his eyes from left to right as his armpits were gradually exposed, his arms pinned to the top of the bed by all of Andrew’s ten fingers.

“Oh, oh-kay,” Tom felt overwhelmed, his muscular torso, long stomach, structured rib cage and broad chest now displayed in a way they had never been displayed before …

Andrew then sat in the knelt position, over Tom’s hands and arms, trapping them beneath his weight.

He carefully laid Tom’s head over his lap, tidying sweat stained curls of hair with his fingertips.

Tom looked up at Andrew, who appeared as upside down …

“Hi …” Tom smiled nervously.

Andrew began to stroke Tom’s face, taking his fingers around his nose and over his cheeks.

“Hi, Hot Holland,” Andrew smirked, his view being Tom’s face snug between two exposed, furry armpits.

Tom wiggled his nose and squeezed his left eye shut as Andrew manhandled his head.

“I, I never thought I’d say this …” Tom tried to blow Andrew’s fingers away, “… Pfft! Pfft! But uh, you, you might need to gag me … Pffttt — I’m gonna be uh, I’m gonna be pretty bloody loud …”

Miller raised his eyebrows as he climbed back onto the bed, kneeling down at Tom’s left side.

“That’s a bold request. You’re worried about the other people in this hotel, aren’t you?” Miller’s eyes landed on Tom’s navel, his defined abs, the jock strap still hugging his girth …

Tom tried to pull his thighs together but his legs had been tied too tightly apart.

“Well, people are going to hear me,” Tom shook his head and shot an angry look up at Andrew as Andrew continued to stroke his face, “Stop that! It’s bloody annoying, it doesn'’t tickle, you’re just being a knob—”

“—Tom, dear boy,” Miller held out his index finger, “Suck this for me.”

Andrew looks at you, the reader, for a brief moment as he rests his hands on Tom’s head of hair.

“I wasn’t expecting that …” Andrew says to you, “… Were you?”

Andrew turns his attention back to the session.

Tom blinked, a little taken back by Miller’s request.

“It’s not a request,” Miller pointed his index finger at Tom’s lips, as if reading his mind, “It’s an order …”

Tom looked up at Andrew, who simply nodded down at Tom, his way of saying, ‘go for it, it’ll be fine’.

Tom lifted his head away from Andrews lap, stretched his neck forwards and opened his mouth…

Miller placed his finger between Tom’s lips, allowing the twenty six year old to suck on it gently.

Miller slid his finger out of Tom’s mouth and then gave him a playful wink.

“Thank you.”

Tom then rested his head back over Andrew’s lap.

“What was that ab—” Tom’s face shifted from confused to alarmed as Miller took that now lubricated index finger towards his left armpit, “Wait, hang on, give me a sec to ready myself, mate, pl, please —”

Miller rested his index finger over Tom’s right armpit, keeping it still.

Tom rolled his shoulders, his jaw stretching open as he glared down at Miller’s finger, his neck and chin squashing up above his chest.

“The camera is recording,” Miller reminded, “Tell our paying audience how this will be the first time in your life your armpits would ever of been tickled like this …” Miller looked over his shoulder, to the camera and tripod stand, “… He’s had an electric toothbrush on one armpit for less than two seconds, dear viewers, and he almost exploded so, you guys are in for a treat …”

Tom huffed, already finding Miller’s fingertip simply resting over his armpit unbearable to handle.

“I’ve, I’ve never been tick, tickled like this,” Tom looked over his torso, at the camera, “This is one of the most intense experiences of my life, alright? Will that do?”

Andrew shaped his mouth into an ‘O’ shape.

“Powerful words,” he whispered.

Miller patted Tom’s chest with his free hand.

“Good job, kid. Now, let’s begin …” He glanced at his partner in crime, “… Andrew, whenever you’re ready …” Miller began to gently scratch over the silky smooth flesh that made up Tom’s left armpit, its length neatly burrowed around a faint bush of armpit hair.

“No,” Tom panted, “I’m, I’m not ready,” he admitted, “I’m not ready for this—”

Andrew tightened his thighs, ensuring Tom’s arms were still successfully trapped beneath his weight, “Well, get ready, Holland …” he then started to wiggle his fingers over Tom’s armpits, not touching them at all, their tips a good few inches away from his skin, “Your upper body was made to be tickled, this is gonna be the first of many times you’ll go through this …”

Tom began to giggle, “Bloody hell!” His cheeks flushing pink already, his heels digging against the mattress as he kicked his legs and looked up at Andrew’s wiggling fingers, “No! Stop it! Pl, please, don’t, don’t, don’t do this! Come on! Oh bloody fuck! Andrew, mate, leave it, mate! No! Please! You can’t do this! Not my armpits, not my armpits! Maybe go back to the brush, maybe do that again, not my p, not my p—”

Andrew chuckled as he continued to wiggle his fingers, their approach ongoing, their impact still yet to take place …

“I’m not even touching you …” Andrew grinned, “… Are you seriously freaking out that much?”

Tom’s head bounced around over Andrew’s lap as he shot a fierce look down at Miller’s index finger, still gently scratching over his armpit hair.

“He’s in there too!” Tom whined, “Get, get out of there! Get out of there! Get out of there!” He urged.

Tom’s giggles continued to increase, his tongue poking out between his teeth, his legs kicking at a more rampant rate as Andrew’s wiggling fingers were now so close to his armpits that they had started to brush over the tips of the curls of his armpit hair.

“NO! Bloody hell— fuck!— Don’t do this, ple, pleeeeeaaaaaaase, don’t do this!” Tom’s giggles turned into deep cackles, his head twisting from side to side as he watched Andrews fingers wiggle through his armpit hair, their teasing arrival torturous and miserable to endure, “You wanker, Andrew! Ahhh bloody hell mate if you’re gonna do it just do it!”

Both Andrew and Miller laughed.

“What is it?” Miller asked, “Don’t do it, or do it?”

“Don’t do it!” Tom cried, wincing as Andrew’s wiggling fingers finally invaded all of his armpit hair and landed in his underarms where they began to ever so gently brush and smooth across his already sweaty armpit flesh, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it! Don’t dooooo-OH-OHAHAHA-AHAHAHA-AAAAHHAAA-AAAHAAAA-BLOODY HELL THAT TICKLES SO MUCH, AHHHH-AGHHH-AHAHAHAAAAHAHA!” Tom heaved, his eyes widening, his nostrils flaring, “DON’T DO IT, DON’T DO IT, DON’T DO IT!” He yelled, his legs kicking over the bed with such strength that the structure creaked and wobbled, the sheets creasing beneath his heels, “DON’T DO IT, PLEAAAAA-AAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHHHAAAAHHHAHA-AAHAHAHEEEEEEESE DON’T DO EHEHEHEEEHE-AHAHAHAHA-AHAAHAH-EEEETTTTTTT—”

“Oh, I’m doing it,” Andrew reassured, “I’m really gently doing it, barely touching you, and you’ve already lost your shit …”

“Incredible,” Miller murmured, his index finger scratching down across Tom’s chest where it made its way towards his abs, his fingernail drawing circles over Tom’s stomach in a creative draw around his navel.

Tom threw his head forwards in concern, his brain informing him that having both of his underarms tickled at the same time as his bellybutton would be something that his mind and body might not be able to take …

“No, no way, nah, lads, lads, lads, LADS, I, I can’t handle this!” Tom spoke his thoughts out loud, sucking in air quickly, “This is too much!” He spat that air out, a strained giggle leaving his throat, his face saturated in panic as perspiration began to bubble over his upper lip, “I, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, ser, ser, seriously, I’m gonna bloody lose it—”

“—Listen,” Miller continued to draw circles around Tom’s navel, “You can breathe, you’re just very, very ticklish and, if I’m honest, the next two hours are going to be horrendous for you … Just take in a deep breath and —”

Tom’s head flung upward.

“—TWO HOURS …?” He shouted, Andrew’s fingers increasing in speed and pressure, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Tom’s words began to quicken, his repetitive use of the word ‘no’ now coming out as one long senseless sound, “Nunununununununununununnunununununununnununununununununununununu—!”

“—Tom,” Miller took his index finger up Tom’s right side, causing the boy to twist his torso to the left and yelp, “Take a breath in, and then a breath out …”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut and heaved in air through his nose, his legs still kicking like they had done as soon as Miller’s saliva soaked index finger had landed on his left underarm …

… He then blew air out of his lips, shaking his head and cackling into Andrew’s lap as Andrew’s fingers continued to wiggle across his armpits.

“OW!” Andrew jumped, biting his lower lip as he glanced down at Tom, “No pinching, you little shit!”

Tom shot worried looks up at Andrew, curling his fists into balls in an attempt to not pinch at Andrew’s legs currently resting over his arms.

“I’m sorry! I’m, I’m sorry!” He coughed out laughter as his eyes began to water, his head now bucking and bouncing over Andrew’s lap as he started to shout and cry, “WHAT THE FUCK? I’M NOT SORRY AT ALL!” He admitted, as Andrew’s fingers now scratched and scrunched over both of his armpits at the same time, “YOU’RE A BASTARD! OH MY GOD—” Tom’s entire being became overwhelmed by disbelief, “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD—” He then tumbled into an uncontrollable heave of laughter, his upper body writhing and squirming, his body kept in place thanks to the ankle restraints pinning his feet to either corner of the bed, “OH MY GO—OHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHAH-AAHAHAHHAA-AAHHAHAHAA-A-A-A-AAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH—OH MY GO—OHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHAH-AAHAHAHHAA-AAHHAHAHAA-A-A-A-AAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH—OH MY GO—OHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHAH-AAHAHAHHAA-AAHHAHAHAA-A-A-A-AAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH—”

Tom’s poetically perfectly pitched laughter travelled through the room, landing in his ticklers ears as a sound they rarely heard when tickling their subjects, a sound that suggested their ticklee was far too sensitive to handle such torture, such touching, such mind-numbing torment …

Most ticklees laughed and howled, cried and bellowed - as to be expected when tested in such a way - but Tom’s reactions were different …

They came from the very bottom of his stomach, the very centre of his heart; his face suggested enjoyment, a grin so tight that his teeth might break … But behind his eyes there was a look that said, ‘this has to end, I can’t take this, there is nothing worse than this’ …

Miller slid off the bed where he stepped towards the gym bag, reaching in and retrieving a bottle of baby oil and an electric toothbrush.

Tom watched his every move, his eyebrows raising, his eyes bulging open …

“NO!” He yelled, “Put those back!” He demanded, “Put them, put them bloody back! Put them bloody back!” He thrashed on the spot, Andrews knees pinning his arms down harder, as Andrew slowed down the tickling and took his index fingers and thumb towards Tom’s nipples where he gave them a twisted pinch.

“I’ve got the perfect song for you, Holland!” Andrew announced.

Tom hissed, scowling down at Andrew’s pinch, mentally willing him to leave his nipples alone as Miller crawled back onto the bed, uncapped the baby oil and began to drizzle it all over Tom’s upper body, soaking his torso from waist to neck.

Tom gasped, Andrew finally letting go of his nipples.

“That’s bloody freezing!” Tom arched his back as Miller switched on the electric toothbrush and laid down on his stomach, between Tom’s spread apart legs where he rested on his elbows.

Btzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

“… 🎵 Itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout 🎵 …” Andrew sang, his right hand ‘walking’ like a spider across Tom’s writhing upper body, starting at the bottom of his stomach where he slowly walked his index finger and middle finger up Tom’s abs …

Tom giggled breathlessly, his watering eyes watching Andrew’s fingered walk as he kicked his legs and dragged his heels against the corners of the mattress, the ankle cuffs keeping his thighs securely spread …

“Stop, stop, stop, come on, lads, please, please, please, this isn’t funny anymore—” Tom’s nostrils flared as he tried to take in two overwhelming situations at once; Andrew’s taunting and the electric toothbrush in Miller’s hands as it neared his right armpit, “—Please, please, lads, come on, please, please, give me a breather, give me a second, give me a, a break—”

“—No breaks for you, kid,” Miller narrowed his eyes in focus as he placed the spinning, vibrating, electric bristles of the toothbrush down over Tom’s right armpit, “You used up your safe word, now we go for as long as we want, with no time outs …”

During his session with The Clown, Andrew and The Masked Tickler in the warehouse only a week ago, Tom had found himself dealing with the misfortune of the electric toothbrush landing over his underarm, a moment that had caused him explode even if it were just for a second …

… Now, in this moment, Miller drew circles in the same spot, on the same underarm, without any sign of it leaving Tom’s sensitive flesh …

… Just that fact alone caused Tom to lose his mind, his entire body convulsing into a manic thrash and twist as he bellowed out manic shouts and desperate, breathless laughter, Andrew’s finger-walk still taking delicate steps up his abs.

“OH MY GO—OHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHAH-AAHAHAHHAA-AAHHAHAHAA-A-A-A-AAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH—GET IT OUT GET IT OUT GET IT OUT PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE—”

“ … 🎵 Down came the rain, and washed the spider out 🎵 …” Andrew continued to sign the nursery rhyme in a soft, gentle tone, a tone far removed from the crazy, loud, aggressive grunts and laughter leaving Tom’s mouth currently, “… 🎵 Out came the sun and dried up all the rain 🎵 …”

Tom began to panic as Andrew walked his index and middle finger closer towards his left armpit, meaning that if he were to arrive there Tom would now be victim to having both of his armpits tickled at the same time by Andrew and Miller …

“… STOP SINGING—” Tom huffed angrily, resenting Andrew’s song and his teasing, his waist lifting up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down …

Miller began to use his free hand to rub the baby oil into Tom’s torso, scratching his fingernails into his ribcage and pecs as he did so, causing the young man to shriek and yelp, thrash and kick …

" … 🎵 So the itsy bitsy spider went up … The spout 🎵 …” Andrew’s fingers arrived at Tom’s left armpit, “ … AGAIN!” Where he actioned a ruthless, hardcore tickle into his left underarms very depths, violating the hyper ticklish flesh with relentless speed and merciless strength.

Tom erupted into a foray of manic inability to handle this part of the session, his eyes squeezing shut, his laughter replaced with high pitched cries and desperate yells, his mind now unable to cope with the level of tickling taking place across his upper body.

“AGHHHHHHHHHHH-AHAHAHAHAHAH—AGHHHHHHHHHHH-AHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAA—NO! NO! NO! NOOOOOAAAAAHHHH—AAHHHHHHAHAAHAHAAHHA—PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAASEEEEEEHHAHAHAHAHAHA—OH MY GO—OHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHAH-AAHAHAHHAA-AAHHAHAHAA-A-A-A-AAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH—OH MY GO—OHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHAH-AAHAHAHHAA-AAHHAHAHAA-A-A-A-AAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAH—”

Miller’s chin rested over Tom’s jock strap covered crotch as he continued to lay between his thighs, the toothbrush pressed into his right armpit as Andrew tickled his left, Tom’s baby oil soaked torso shimmering and glistening as he twisted his body from side to side, his arms pulling down as hard as they could from beneath Andrew’s weight, but Andrew remained seated over them quite comfortably, his free hand now dancing across Tom’s left side.

“OH GOD, OH MY GOD—” Tom’s situation had dawned on him several times already, but every so often the visuals around him would remind him of the severity of his circumstance, “—OH MY GOD, NO WAY, THIS HAS TO STOP I’M LOSING MY MIND, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, WHAT, WHAT ARE YOU—”

“—He’s losing his mind!” Miller cheered, “We’ve driven him insane, Garfield! How do you feel about that?”

Andrew sent all ten fingers into Tom’s armpits, five in each pit where they provided an aggressive scratch and wriggle around his underarm hair and between the silky creamy flesh that made up the space of skin between his pecs and forearms.

“I think it’s pretty amazing!” Andrew watched Miller run his electric toothbrush all around Tom’s torso, covering his chest, his abs, his navel and his hips, Tom’s upper body now thrashing about so much his crotch had started to lift Miller’s head up and down in a playful bounce.

“OH MY GOD—” Tom continued to expel his disbelief, “—PLEASEGIVEMEASECOND—” he said all at once, “—JUSTONEBLOODYSECOND—” he heaved …

Miller bit into the material of Tom’s jockstrap that currently covered his cock and balls, where he contained the thin black material between his teeth.

“Why, Tom? Why should we give you a second?” Miller growled, the toothbrush now buzzing across Tom’s left nipple.

Tom breathed in sharply, readying his reasons, but the tickling and the sight of Miller now pulling his jaw upward so that his jockstrap began to lift made his sentences and speech leave his mouth in the form of complete and utter gibberish.

“Beca, I nee—aaghahhh! I can, you have—what the—” heave, spit, splutter —”I haven’t had the ch, ch, ch, ch, ple, ple—agh! Aahhh! Ahahhaaa—this, this isn’t righ—ple, ple, pl, pl, pleehh, come on, you shou, sh, sh, shh, shouldn’t—be allow, allow, AAAHH! AHHH! AHHHAAA NOO—NOO—NOO— I can, I can brea, brea, br, br, br, breaaaahhhh—aghhh! Agh! Aghhhaaaaa-AGHHHH! AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAGHHHAAAAH—”

Miller used his teeth to pull Tom’s jockstrap down from his hips, snarling as he did so …

… Where he allowed the crotch part of the underwear to sit snug under his balls, fully exposing Tom’s flaccid cock, smooth taint and muscular hips, the straps of the jock still snug around each of Tom’s butt cheeks.

As Tom peered down to his suddenly exposed private parts, saliva seeped out of the corner of his mouth as he panted out more senseless protests and mindless begging.

Andrew leaned into Tom’s right ear and quietly whispered,

“—He did say he’d transform you into a dribbling mess …”

Tom shot worried glances up at Andrew as Andrew continued to tickle both of his underarms at the same time, their stroke and wiggle wavering between aggressive and hard, then soft and teasing, both methods equally as mind numbingly torturous …

Tom was so blown over by how ticklish this was, he couldn’t even scream and shout down to Miller, who had exposed his manhood and balls, balls squashed up around the jockstrap material now gathered around his taint.

He almost didn’t care, his physical exploitation already viscerally exhibited as soon as he allowed both of these men to remove his socks during a moment that felt like forever ago …

As Tom continued to laugh and cry out words that didn’t make sense, his waist and hips bucked around on the spot, his cock flapping across his stomach where it smacked and rolled across his navel, it’s length and shape soft and squishy …

… Until Miller’s electric toothbrush landed at the base of its structure.

Tom threw his head forward in alarm as Miller began to tickle his cock with the toothbrush, the bristles buzzing and vibrating up and down his shaft, causing Tom to pant and puff, his chin pressing against his chest, his wide open eyes glaring down at the sight of Miller laid out between his legs, the determination on his tickler’s face now more present that it had ever been.

“NO, NOT THERE,” Tom howled, “THAT’S NOT WHAT WE DISCUSSED—”

“—This is pretty wild, right, Holland?” Andrew continued to stroke Tom’s underarms, non stop, the baby oil rolling down over his chest and into his pits the more Tom arched his back, “You’ve never experienced domination like this before, have you? You’re all ours, our little tickle bitch …”

Tom shook his head across Andrew’s lap, unable to speak, unable to breathe properly, his arms now throbbing from the elbow up thanks to Andrew’s weight still planted over them.

“N, n, n, n—” Tom felt a dull ache present itself at the bottom of his stomach, “—pl, pl, pl, pl—”

Miller used his free hand to gather Tom’s cock and balls together, where he then continued to run the electric toothbrush up his shaft and towards the tip of his cock, a cock that had, to all three mens surprise, began to harden …

“Fuck!” Andrew’s eyebrows lifted, “Is he getting stiff …?”

Miller nodded in achievement, his tongue running over the roof of his mouth in focus as he circled the base of Tom’s cock with his tickle tool, its constant buzz causing Tom’s cock to thicken with every second …

Tom couldn’t quite believe what was happening …

He peered over his chest as he endured Andrew’s armpit tickles, his torso lifting and dropping, his waist thrashing to the left and then to the right in an attempt to release his now hard cock from Miller’s grasp…

“No, what the, the fuck — lads, lads, lads—”

But Miller kept hold of it.

He now had such a large shape in his grip, Miller might as well of been holding onto a gear stick.

Tom’s cheeks boiled pink as he watched the toothbrush turn his once flaccid cock into a fully erect penis, its structure hard, its girth present in Miller’s grasp.

Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …

“Tom Holland!” Miller declared, “Tickled hard, by an electric toothbrush! Who would’ve thought!”

Tom’s face creased up as his teeth clenched together and his eyebrows squashed up into a concerned frown, a sudden urge to explain himself arriving at the forefront of his mind.

“It’s the, the vibra, vibrations—” Tom tried to breathlessly justify the situation, “Oh my GOD — this is, ssssss, ssss, s-s-so embarrassing!”

Miller continued to run the electric toothbrush up and down Tom’s cock, the need to hold it in place no longer necessary …

He let go of Tom’s erection, where he allowed it to stand to attention all by itself, it’s rock hard height now wobbling from side to side as Tom continued to squirm over the mattress.

Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …

“You’re loving this, Holland, aren’t you?” Andrew teased as he continued to tickle Tom’s underarms, “You love it so much you got a boner!”

Tom bounced his head over Andrew’s lap, his waist twisting, his erection swaying about, the electric toothbrush never leaving his cock for a second, the vibrations, buzz and bristles still travelling over Tom’s shaft and balls …

“Fu, jeez, ho, ho, holy—” Tom, flabbergasted and confused, couldn’t take his eyes off his cock, overwhelmed by disbelief, “How, how—” he giggled and cried, his teeth snapping at Andrew’s right hand in an attempt to bite the tickling away from his armpit.

Snap! Snap!

“This is —” Tom snapped again, but Andrew snatched his hand away each time, only to return it to his armpit, “—thisissoembarrassing—” Tom mumbled all at once, some emotion bubbling out of his nostrils as Miller persisted in tickling his erection, “I'm not gay! I swear! Not that there’s anything WRONG with, with being gay, I just—” heave “—It’s not me, I, I can’t even see, Andrew, just stop with the pits, come on, lads, my cock! Get off my cock! Bloody hell, lads, lads, lads—”

Miller took hold of Tom’s cock once again, this time to gently pull down his erections hood, allowing the young mans shining, throbbing helm to present itself.

Tom, now more than ever, tried his hardest to pull his arms out from underneath Andrews seated position, but they were too trapped …

He continued to deal with two unique experiences at once; his armpits tickled more than they had ever been tickled in his life, as well as the first erection he had reluctantly presented in front of not just one man, but two, two men who had tickled him beyond his capabilities for what had now been all of the morning and most of the afternoon …

Tom’s eyes watered and his lips swelled up as he watched Miller devour the tip of his cock with the buzz of the electric toothbrush, the sensation causing his erection to harden even further …

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—” Tom shot a frantic look up at Andrew, expecting his friend to say or do something, however Andrew remained in his position, his grin sadistic, his intentions sinister …

“Here’s the deal,” Miller announced, the toothbrush travelling up Tom’s erection from tip to base, base to tip, tip to base …

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …

“I bet I can make you cum all over yourself,” Miller revealed confidently, “Right here, right now …”

The back of Tom’s head rubbed against Andrew’s lap as he shook it definatly, his lips pressing together, his eyes galring into the ceiling.

“I’m not go, going to cum,” he scoffed, fully content with his own sexuality, completly aware of what he was attracted to, what he could and couldn’t control, “I’m not going to cum,” he repeated, “That’s bloody ridiculous—” he panted, Andrew still deep inside both of his underarms…

“If I’m right, and when it happens,” Miller ran the toothbrush over Tom’s balls, the boys hips and waist thrashing beneath his jaw, “Then you’ll have to agree to a fully naked session next time … Tied spread eagle to a bed, unclothed, soaked in baby oil, for two ticklers to have their way with you from head to toe … With only one safe word allowed …”

Tom’s mouth stretched open as he took in Miller’s offer, his cock throbbing, the shape twitching, the electric toothbrush buzzing up and down his shaft at a slow and steady speed …

Andrew looks at you, the reader, whilst he continues to tickle Tom’s pits.

“This is pretty hot, right?” He asks you.

Andrew turns his attention back to Miller as Miller continues to explain the deal.

“We’ll take you by surprise. It’ll happen when you least expect it. It could be when you’re in the shower, or at the movies … You could be with your girlfriend, grocery shopping …” Miller watched Tom’s erection pulsate as the toothbrush buzzed over its tip, “… We’ll jump you, we’ll have you, we’ll record it, just like we’ve done today, just like we did last time, and the time before that …”

Tom inhaled quickly, shouting his exhale out into the ceiling.

“YOU PEOPLE ARE NUTS!” He cried, fully aware of the roll of pleasure taking place around his cock, a feeling he so wanted to repress, a feeling he so wanted to hold back, to fight, to contain, to withdraw …

Andrew took his violating stroke down to Tom’s abs where he began to tickle, pinch and poke across the boys stomach, the cackles and cries leaving Tom’s throat with increasingly high volume.

“Now,” Miller continued, “If you don’t cum … “ he spoke his words out quietly in a heartfelt, genuine whisper, “… We leave you alone forever.”

Tom nodded frantically in understanding, his head peering over his chest as he took in the sight of his erection, an erection standing snug in Miller’s grasp as Miller continued to stroke it with the buzz of the electric toothbrush …

“Fuck!” Tom spat, his eyes shooting up to Andrew then down to Miller, “I’m not gonna cum!” He repeated, “I’m not gonna cum, I’m not cumming, fuck! Bloody hell, would you stop with the stomach!” He yelled, Andrew’s fingers over his abs too hard to take …

The more he thrashed and squirmed, the more he lifted and dropped his hips, the more he rolled his waist, the more his cock unintentionally slid up and down through Miller’s grasp …

That, along with the buzz, made the idea of cuming on the spot feel more like an upcoming, physical circumstance instead of a mere suggestion.

“Who are you trying to reassure, Holland?” Andrew cheered, his fingers not holding back in their dance across Tom’s abs, “Yourself, or us?”

Tom threw his head forward in bewilderment as he felt the electric toothbrush press against his taint.

He squealed and panted breathlessly, such a direly sensitive area now fully explored by the buzzing vibrations gliding up and down the silky smooth expanse of flesh between his balls and butt hole …

Toms vision blurred as he felt the start of his orgasm arrive within the depths of his balls.

“N-no—” he muttered angrily, dread now overtaking him entirely, his head shaking in shock, “Ple, please—” he hated himself for being unable to control what was being taken from him, “—se, seriously?”

Miller’s eyes widened as he rubbed the electric toothbrush over Tom’s taint, the sight of Tom’s erection now throbbing in a stiffening shimmer a little too beautiful to comprehend …

Andrew continued to tickle Tom’s abs as Miller continued to press the electric toothbrush down over Tom’s taint, Tom’s hard on now twitching so much that it began to arch and lift away from his stomach, his helm glistening and pink, its shape growing and increasing in size until —

“No, no, no, please, please, don’t,” Tom willed his cock not to do it, the pleasure mixed with the tickling landing as a one of a kind sensation unlike anything he’d felt before, “Oh what! Oh what? Wait, you’re making me cum, you’re making me cum—” Tom gave into his scenario as he allowed an uncontainable noise to leave his mouth, “—NYUGHHHH—” he grunted, his eyes bulging open where they stared down at his dick in a frustrated, unblinking scowl, his erection shooting out long lines of creamy white cum where they landed in thick, heavy droplets over his chest, stomach, Andrew’s hands, his sides … Even his face …

Tom flinched, a line of orgasm arriving over his lip and nose, his eyes still wide open, his entire body now decorated in goosebumps …

Tom’s ticklish senses were put on pause for now as the majority of his body dealt with the expel of pleasure, his cock still twitching and spewing out thick droplets that stained his jockstrap and blended in with the baby oil soaking most of his hyper sensitive torso …

Tom lay breathless and destroyed, the electric toothbrush buzzing against his taint still where Miller decided to keep it there, just for a few seconds, before switching it off.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz — click!

Andrew remained seated over Tom’s arms, his clawed fingers stretching out so that his palms lay gently pressed over Tom’s stomach.

Miller readjusted the jockstrap so that it once again contained Tom’s cock and balls.

“Looks like we’ll be seeing you again sooner rather than later, Holland,” Miller announced, “And all I can say, is when you least expect it … Expect it …”

As Miller climbed off the bed, and as Tom closed his eyes and dealt with his embarrassment and shame, Andrew looked down at his friend’s head in his lap where he thought about his circumstance.

Tom had lost the bet, almost too quickly, his ability to contain his un-welcomed orgasm literally non existent …

And now, Tom had put himself in a situation where his next session would be unplanned; it could take place whenever, wherever, without Tom being given any prior warning …

He wondered if Miller would ask him to do the tickling…

He wondered if Miller would ask someone else …

He wondered if Miller would allow him to suggest someone, someone far more devious than both he and Miller combined …

Until then, Andrew tidied up Tom’s curls of hair as the twenty six year old focused on controlling his breathing, his sweaty head resting in Andrews lap.

Andrew speaks to you, the reader, he he strokes Tom’s face whilst Miller begins to un-cuff Tom’s ankles.

“I almost feel sorry for the poor guy,” Andrew says to you, before looking you in the eye, a playful expression taking over his face.

“… Almost,” he grins.

***

Tom sat down on the end of the bed, still dressed in his jockstrap, a jockstrap stained with his own orgasm.

He placed his hands in his lap and looked at the camera, clearing his throat.

“My name is Tom Holland. I’m twenty six years old, I’m an actor, and I’m a ticklee for The House of White Feathers …”

Andrew and Miller stood behind the tripod as they watched Tom recite the things they had told him to say.

“I’m here out of my own free will,” Tom declared, “To further increase my career, to help get me more serious roles within the film industry. I am contracted for two more sessions. The next session I know will take place at a date and time unknown to me. I will be naked.”

Andrew smirked as Tom chuckled nervously, almost unable to believe the words leaving his own mouth.

“The session after that,” Tom scratched the tip of his nose, “I have absolutely no idea about.”

Tom paused, his eyes leaving his lap where they travelled cautiously over to Andrew.

“Andrew,” Tom whispered, “What else did you want me to say?”

Miller glanced at Andrew and raised his eyebrows.

“Your boy has a real problem with remembering stuff,” he laughed.

Andrew stepped forwards.

“List your ticklish areas, and then describe in detail what today was like …” Andrew reminded Tom.

Tom blinked, nodding quickly.

“Oh yeah, sure, that’s it …” he lifted both of his feet up so that his soles faed the camera, “My ticklish areas are these,” he wiggled his toes, his Spider-Man symbol tattoo on full display for the camera, “And these …” he lifted his hands into the air, exposing his armpits.

He then dropped his hands and feet back down as he looked over at his torso, his arms and his legs.

“To be honest, every bloody inch of me is another level of ticklish. There isn’t really one spot where I can take it,” he admitted.

Andrew stepped back, giving Tom some reassurance in the form of a smile.

“Today …” Tom looked up into the ceiling, “… Today was brutal. I bloody hate the brush … And when you two both hit my feet at the same time, I honestly thought I was gonna pass away …”

Both Miller and Andrew chuckled at Tom’s explanation.

“… But when you did that bloody singing …” Tom narrowed his eyes at Andrew, “… The itsby bitsy bollocks. And when you—” Tom pointed at Miller, “—when you put that toothbrush over my stomach. At the same time he—” Tom pointed at Andrew, “—was going to down on my pits. Yeah. I was ready to tap out, lads …”

Miller stroked his chin carefully.

“And your orgasm?” Miller enquired.

Tom smirked, looking Miller in the eye as he placed his hands behind him, palms on the mattress, leaning back so that his long torso, abs and chest shimmered in the sunlight.

“You’re evil,” Tom announced, crossing his legs at the ankle, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

Miller couldn’t help but blush.

He rubbed the back of his neck and then shuffled towards the tripod where he terminated the recording.

“Okay,” Miller had to avoid Tom’s gaze; his mere presence after being tickled, the sweaty hair, the toned muscles, the exhausted expression appearing as far too attractive for Miller to handle at this moment in time, “You can get dressed, Tom. Thank you. Andrew will order you a taxi. I’ll make sure there’s a bottle of champagne at your apartment when you get home …”

Tom stood up from the end of the bed and stroked his chest with his knuckles.

“Oh, so … We’re done? I can go?”

Miller nodded as he tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out a calling card.

He handed it to Tom, the illustration of a house surrounded by feathers drawn onto the cards surface.

Tom didn’t take the card.

Instead, he held onto Miller’s hands and squeezed them tight.

“You don’t need to give me that … ” Tom said, in a tone that almost felt threatening, “… I know who you are, by now …”

Tom patted both of Miller’s hands and then turned away from him, where he slid the jockstrap down to his ankles and walked towards his running trainers, hoodie and socks, kicking the underwear away from his feet where he began to get dressed, leaving Miller standing beside Andrew with the calling card still resting between his index finger and thumb.

***

Andrew and Miller stood by the hotel window where they peered down to the street below.

Miller sipped on a glass of champagne as Andrew adjusted the cap on his head.

They watched Tom leave the building in his denim jacket, hoodie and sweatpants, his casual stroll across the street and into a waiting taxi so normal and simple compared to the tickle torture, the screaming, the begging and the breathless panting he had just produced within this very room …

“He’s incredible,” Miller announced, swallowing down the fizz between his cheeks, “I’m captivated by him. He’s our greatest ticklee yet … Unlike any other, hard to beat, challenging to forget, someone I think we’re going to need to keep around for a long, long time …”

Andrew tucked his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket as he watched Tom’s taxi drive away.

“Do you think he stands a chance? In The Games?” Andrew asked, “Ticklish levels as high as that …” Andrew chuckled, shaking his head, “… I can’t see him making it through Door Two …”

Miller kept his champagne glass below his lips as Tom’s taxi turned a corner, his favourite ticklee of all time so far disappearing for now.

He acknowledged the pang in his chest, the need to already have Tom tied in his grasp once again, even if he had only just untied him ten minutes ago …

… A pang he had felt for Armie all those years ago, for Andrew half a decade before, and now a pang he felt for Tom, his new obsession.

“We’ll keep him in The Games, with the chosen others … ” Miller decided, “… John won’t have it any other way, he’s content with his selection …” he then nodded over to the camera stand as he finished off his glass of champagne.

“Now, get that content to our client base, Garfield,” Miller ordered, “We’ve got a growing audience to satisfy …”

‘OBEY’ CONTINUES IN ‘OBEY PART FOUR’, COMING SOON

BACK TO THE HOMEPAGE