Armie woke to the sound of his iPhone vibrating over his bedside table.
With a grunt, he rolled over onto his back and opened heavy eyelids.
The iPhone lit his ceiling a faint white.
Bzzzt, bzzzt
Armie felt a pang in the centre of his stomach.
Now even noises were reminding him of Timothée and his extreme sensitivity.
Bzzzzzzz
Bzzzzzzz
Bzzzzzzz
Bzzzzzz
A familiar sound, like something coming from a piece of plastic rubber, once attached to the growth between Tim’s waist.
He’d need to reattach that soon.
When the time felt right.
Once they were back.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
You’re setting yourself up for disappointment.
Armie reached out for his iPhone, took it in his grasp and then narrowed blue eyes over several messages still popping up on the screen.
Armie laid back down and swiped the iPhone open with his index finger.
Miller: Hey
Miller: You up?
Miller: I can’t stop thinking about your email.
Miller: Is he really coming?
Miller: …
Armie began to tap out his reply with each thumb.
Armie: …
Armie: Hey
Armie: Yes, I’m up now. Thanks to you.
Armie: So, he’s willing to attend as a guest. You haven’t told anyone, have you?
Miller: No.
Miller: You said not to.
Armie: Cool.
Armie: Let’s keep it that way.
Miller: 👍🏼
Miller: And he’s 100% against getting tickled?
Armie: 100%
Miller: …
Miller: …
Miller: I might have a proposition that’ll change his mind.
Armie: Oh yeah? What proposition is that?
Miller: Lol
Miller: Straight to it, aren’t you.
Armie: …
Armie: It’s 3 am
Miller: I’ll call you in the morning.
Miller: We can discuss it then.
Armie: Man, leaving me hanging …
Miller: It’s what I do best.
Miller: Night, ‘lee.
Armie: Night, ‘ler.
Armie locked his phone and placed it back down on the bedside table.
He laid on his back and then, with excitement fluttering in his chest, he watched the ceiling go from faint white to pitch black.
***
Oblivion.
What had Armie meant by that?
It sounds pretty intense…
As Tim washed his hair in the shower, he closed his eyes and thought about the past week or so.
It had been exactly seven days.
He had moved in here last Monday.
And now it’s Tuesday morning.
So far, he’d been trapped in a giant steel cylinder …
… Endured all of Armie’s new tools, in stocks …
… He’d been chained up in the basement, twice …
… And had been tickled the furthest he could handle, naked, on Armie’s bed …
… He’d also been edged.
One of three sexual experiences with a man, in the same apartment, in the same week, by the same person.
Tim scrubbed shampoo into his lengthy brown curls.
For the first time since signing The Agreement, he had felt the want for all of this to not be over.
Despite the torture, despite the relentless endurance …
… The thought that landed at the forefront of Tim’s head was,
‘I’m kinda enjoying myself’.
Last night, Tim and Armie got to spend some more quality time together, as friends, after their bath—
—Why the fuck did we bathe together?
Tim felt the foam developing between his fingertips.
I’ve never shared a bath with anyone.
Maybe Pauline, as a kid …
… But, a guy?
Armie?
Tim moved his head under the onslaught of boiling hot water.
The shampoo rolled down his face and dissolved over his shoulders.
Tim wiped his nose and leant against the glass wall of the shower.
He wanted to suggest Stockholm syndrome.
But it was his idea for Armie to get inside the tub.
Tim shook confusion out of his head.
Droplets of soapy water splashed against the marble Tim stood on.
His own actions didn’t surprise him.
After experiencing what he had gone through in the basement, he wanted one thing and one thing only, immediately after.
His friend.
He craved closeness, warmth, understanding and calm …
… Having Armie in the bathtub with him and a few beers for three hours gave him all of those things.
And Tim felt okay with that.
He just had to gage Armie, and The Tickler.
They were two separate things.
Individual beings.
Never together at the same time.
The person in the bath, the person watching the movie with me last night … The person who orders in pizza and reattaches your ankle to the bed-cuff with gentle delicacy …
That’s Armie.
The creature who pushes you into …
… What Armie described, this morning, would be ‘Oblivion’ …
… That’s something else.
Something more.
Something Tim had now witnessed time and time again …
… And will come to witness, no doubt more often, as the weeks go by.
Tim huffed.
He had expelled all overthinking.
He twisted off the shower and stepped onto the comfort of a fluffy rug.
He then dried himself off with a towel and took his naked body back into his bedroom.
The New York breeze blew against his neck.
Goosebumps brushed over his collar bone.
He took a seat on the edge of the bed and checked his phone.
37,532 likes on Instagram in the past twenty four hours …
… Countless DM’s from girls around the world.
Nothing from his Agent.
Tim wiggled his finger into his ear and checked the time.
He’d learnt to not be late for Armie’s sessions.
He’d got used to thinking ahead, ensuring to always be where Armie had told him to be, when Armie had told him to be there.
This time, it would be back in Armie’s bedroom.
Tim pressed his phone against his lips, willing that Armie didn’t go back to the feather, back to the taint …
… Back to the hairbrush.
What else could he possibly do?
How many other positions can he tie me in?
How many other ways can I be tickled like that?
Surely what Armie had done already would be enough?
Tim plopped his phone down on the mattress as he stood back up.
It’ll never be enough.
Tim walked to his giant oak wooden wardrobe and pulled open the doors.
He trailed his fingertips through oversized designer hoodies, sweat pants and baggy tee’s …
… Him, before all this.
Tim dressed himself in a black tee, Adidas sweats and white socks.
He pulled on Reebok trainers, despite still being inside.
Armie’s orders …
He checked his hair in the mirror, fluffing up curls with his hands whilst brushing away dead skin at the corners of his eyes.
He cleared his throat as the overwhelming sensation of pure knowledge rolled over him.
You’re a victim.
You’re his victim.
That’s who you are now.
Until twenty three days time.
And then you’ll be you again.
***
As Tim approached Armie’s bedroom door, he felt surprised to see it wide open.
He stepped in slowly, arriving on the same wide expanse of carpet he had arrived on Sunday afternoon.
Tim held onto his left wrist and placed his hands comfortably in front of his crotch.
His eyes trailed over to Armie’s bed, a bed he lay tied to only a few days ago, driven insane by a feather twirling between the depths of his thighs.
This time, leant against one of the posts of the bed, stood a wide, seven foot tall plank of wood.
Attached to the corners of the plank were several thick gatherings of white rope.
On the surface of the bed - a ball gag and a blind fold.
Tim gulped.
What the f—
“—Ah, the red carpet pose …”
Armie’s voice came from the right side of the room, as he left his walk in wardrobe.
Tim turned to face Armie, suddenly aware of his posture, a pose he often fell into at movie premieres or during photoshoots.
“Oh,” Tim hid a grin with the back of his hand and broke the stance, “Yeah, I uh, I stand that way when I, when—”
“—When you want to appear powerful?” Armie had his hands behind his back, “In control?”
He wore a tight fitting white t-shirt and Adidas tracksuit bottoms.
Tim noticed his feet were bare.
He also noticed how well kept they were.
“Uh, yeah. I, I guess.”
Armie caught Tim’s eyes glancing downward.
He smiled and approached the boy carefully.
From behind his back, he revealed a large roll of plastic wrap.
He held it like a baseball bat, patting his palm playfully as he eyed Tim from head to toe.
“You smell nice,” he commented.
Tim shuffled on the spot.
He sniffed his own arm and then lifted up his shoulders.
“It’s uh, sh-shampoo, for uh, for curly hair.”
Armie, with plastic wrap in hand, took a few slow steps closer towards Tim.
He closed his eyes, moved his head downward and then pressed his nose against the top of Tim’s hair.
He breathed in the strawberry scent.
Tim couldn’t help but close his eyes and smile.
Tim then asked his question in a deep murmur.
“You planning on wrapping me up and storing me in the refrigerator?”
Armie kept his face burrowed into the top of Tim’s head as he placed his hand against the boys shoulder blades.
He then pulled him in for a deep hug.
Tim’s face squashed up against Armie’s chest.
A beat of silence, a cool breeze from the bedroom window, the sound of pigeons cooing outside …
Tim felt all nerves, all anxiety regarding this upcoming session fade away entirely.
“I might introduce a new rule where you’re not allowed to ask questions…” Armie teased.
Tim smirked.
“I’m learning.”
Armie’s hands slid away from Tim’s back as he broke the hug gently.
“Learning about ‘this’ … Or learning to lean into the unknown, without asking?” Armie took a few steps away from Tim as he continued to pat the roll of plastic against his left palm.
Tim tucked his hands into his sweat pants.
“Both, I, I guess.”
Armie nodded slowly to himself as he continued to take in Tim, as a whole, standing there a foot or so away from him.
He loved to embrace the before …
… The quiet. The clean, the not covered in sweat, the cheeks not flushed red, the eyes not blood shot, the posture not shaking …
… All of the opposites to how he would eventually appear in a few hours time.
Tim glanced down at the carpet as curls of hair fell over his eyes.
“What?” He asked quietly.
Armie blinked and took gradual steps toward his king sized bed.
“I’m just admiring,” he answered.
Tim lifted his head and watched Armie approach the leant out plank of wood.
Tim started to lift up his t-shirt.
“So, what’s this one go—“
Armie turned to face Tim and held up his hand.
“—No.”
Tim paused.
“Keep your clothes on,” Armie warned.
Tim dropped the hem of his tee as if the idea of touching it were illegal.
“Keep your clothes on,” Armie repeated, “And come lean against this…” he stroked fingertips over the surface of the wooden plank.
Tim nodded in understanding and took sneaker dressed feet over to the bed.
He approached the plank of wood and, before doing as he’d been told, he too ran fingertips across it’s surface, whilst pinching the edges, assessing the planks strength.
Armie watched Tim be cautious, careful and curious - the three things he loved about him the most.
Tim turned his back to the plank and then leant against it.
The plank was just wide enough to contain Tim’s body.
Armie placed the roll of plastic down on the bed and then flicked his finger up to the ceiling.
“Lay your arms above your head.”
Tim shuffled his feet a little and then went to move his arms.
He paused before doing so, closing his eyes quietly.
“Fuck.”
Armie raised his eyebrows.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
Tim bit his lower lip.
“This is … This is going to suck.”
Armie chuckled.
“It’ll suck just the right amount, for ten million dollars.”
Tim opened his eyes and reluctantly placed his hands above his head.
Armie walked towards Tim, his bare feet making no noise at all across the carpet.
He then moved his body gently into Tim’s.
Tim immediately pulled his arms back down to his sides.
“No!” He squealed.
Armie fell into laughter as he pressed his hips against Tim’s waist.
“What is wrong with you today?”
Tim shook his head, hiding his face with his hands.
“I just … I don’t know … I have, n-no idea what you’re gonna do, man, it-it’s making me feel—”
Armie curled his hands around Tim’s wrists, lifting them above his head, pinning them against the surface of the plank.
“—Keep them here…”
Tim nodded quickly.
Armie’s fingertips slid away from Tim’s wrists.
He then started to tuck curls of brown away from Tim’s face and eyes, completely revealing Tim’s handsome complexion.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut and scrunched his nose as Armie tidied up his hair.
Armie then held onto the hem of Tim’s tee and began to pull it up, over his head.
“F-fuck…” Tim wobbled his knees anxiously.
Armie continued to grin.
“I’m loving how much you’re vocalising your apprehension … No holding back today, right?”
Tim shook his head.
“Nope. I uh, I’m past holding back…”
Armie pulled Tim’s t-shirt up over his face, hooking it behind his head, blinding him entirely.
“Me and you both, kid …” Armie stared down at Tim’s smooth, pale torso.
He then eyed Tim’s head, covered by his tee.
The perfect moment.
With claw like positioning, Armie’s hands unexpectedly actioned a vigorous tickle attack against Tim’s sides.
“AGH!”
Tim automatically pulled his arms back down, using one hand to grab at Armie’s fingers and the other to snatch his t-shirt away from his face.
Armie giggled mischievously as he watched Tim try to defend himself.
“What did I say…?” Armie wrestled with Tim’s manic grasp, catching his wrists again, pinning them back up above his head, “… Keep them there.”
Tim huffed as Armie pulled him back into position.
“You, you can’t surprise me like that, man …” Tim announced, “… I nearly jumped out of my damn skin …”
Armie held back onto Tim’s t-shirt and continued to pull it upwards.
“Hm, I … I think I’ll do what I want…”
Tim clenched his teeth nervously as the tee made it’s way back over his face.
“Lift your head forward,” Armie spoke sternly.
Tim did as asked.
Armie pulled the tee over Tim’s head, past Tim’s face, and then tucked the gathered amount of cotton behind his neck.
Armie re-tidied Tim’s curls and then stood back with a pleasant sigh as he addressed his achievements so far.
Tim’s stomach, hips, waist, sides, pits and neck were now fully exposed, with some t-shirt still around his upper arms and elbows.
“Keep your head in that position,” Armie reached for the plastic wrap, “This will take a minute.”
Tim blew a stray piece of fibre away from his upper lip.
He then craned his neck towards the carpet as Armie pulled out a stretch of plastic wrap, where he soon started to wrap Tim’s arms to the plank of wood Tim leant against.
The wrap would go over Tim’s upper arms, behind his head, around the back of the plank and then the process would repeat itself five, six, seven, eight times …
Armie would wrap higher and higher, so that the plastic reached Tim’s wrists.
He would continue wrapping, until Tim’s arms were fixed above his head, completely bound and attached to the plank with the plastic, with only his hands poking out at the top.
Tim rested his head against the shining plastic with a soft crunch.
His armpits felt the cool breeze from Armie’s open window.
Tim looked up at the plastic binding him in place.
He tried to pull his hands through, flexing his fingers as he did so …
… But his arms were tightly trapped.
He wriggled his shoulders a little, but all that came out of his attempt to break free were some squeaks and gentle rustles.
Tim glared at Armie with narrowed green eyes.
“Just when I think you can’t get anymore creative …”
Armie ran his hands over the faint blonde stubble decorating his jaw.
He then got down to his knees and began to apply the same amount of plastic wrap around Tim’s legs, from the knee down.
Once, twice, three times, four times, five times, six…
He huffed, breathlessly, as he repeated the same motion as he had actioned above.
Tim, typically, decided to make conversation during the process.
“So, uh … Do you have like, a … A favourite place, to tickle?”
He bit his lip straight after asking that question.
Why can’t you just keep quiet and stare at the window like a normal person?
Armie tore the last bit of plastic from the roll, sticking it down against Tim’s legs.
“On you specifically, or on people in general?” He asked, whilst getting to his feet.
Tim tried to pull his legs apart, but there would be no budge.
“Uhm … “
He wanted to say,
Me.
On me.
But something lead him to saying,
“On other people…”
Armie felt disappointed that Tim hadn’t gone with the core meaning to his original question.
He looked the boy in the eye.
Tim, more than anyone he knew, was the easiest to read.
Every thought process, every decision, every consideration, constantly and continuously fluttered out of Tim’s eyes, lips, jaw and nostrils.
He had always been an open book, unapologetically and, most of the time, unknowingly.
Armie pressed for the truth.
“You wanted to ask, where on you is my favourite spot … Didn’t you Tim?”
Tim lowered his head and glanced down at the laces of his Reeboks.
“… Just out of curiosity," he mumbled.
Armie wiped some sweat away from his upper lip.
“It changes,” he announced, taking a few steps away from Tim, “At the start, it was your feet, without a doubt. That Index Toe … The spaces between …” Armie kissed his fingertips, “… Complete and utter perfection. Especially when they’re drenched in baby oil, especially when they're made to take the brush …”
Tim flexed his toes within the depths of his socks.
“… Although, I’d say, at the moment …” Armie approached Tim with a wiggling index finger, “ … It’s probably…” He aimed it towards Tim’s stomach, gently trailing it up to Tim’s left armpit, “… It’s probably somewhere around here.”
Tim breathed in heavily as he endured Armie’s tormenting trail.
“Okay, okay…!” Tim hissed, “I-I was just asking …”
Armie took a firm grip against the edges of the plank.
Then, without warning, he pushed the plank backwards, so that it landed on the mattress with a heavy bounce.
“Whoa!”
Tim, caught by surprise, now found himself laying horizontally instead of standing vertically.
Armie stood back and admired Tim, plastic wrapped to the plank, which now lay flat out on the bed.
He grabbed the plank and positioned it so it sat in the very middle of the mattress.
He then grabbed the lengths of white rope and began to pull them towards the four individual posts poking out of each corner of the bed.
The same posts Tim’s wrists and ankles had been tied to only a few days ago.
“The thing is, Tim, I may find another spot, over the next three weeks,” Armie sounded strained as he yanked rope, knotted it up, threw extra lengths across the carpet, “I, like you, had no idea what effect a simple feather would have on your taint, until five days in … Whose to say there aren’t any other places on your body that you didn’t realise were extremely sensitive?”
Armie finished tying the plank to the bed, standing up breathlessly shortly after.
Tim stared up into the ceiling, his bare upper body exposed and ready for whatever Armie chose to do.
Armie picked the ball gag up from the mattress, allowing it to dangle off of his index finger.
“I guess we’ll find out…” he said.
***
Armie hopped on the bed and straddled Tim’s waist with each of his thighs.
Tim tried, once again, to shuffle his arms through the plastic wrapping them to the plank, but he could barely shift them an inch.
Armie dropped the ball gag onto the mattress and then made a prayer sign, by placing both of his palms together.
“Put your hands like this,” he said, whilst looking down at Tim.
Tim bit his upper lip as he tried to fulfil Armie’s request.
Armie helped Tim by moving his hands into position, so that both of Tim’s palms and fingers pressed against each other.
Armie then pulled a plastic cable tie from his sweat pants pocket.
Tim’s eyes widened.
Armie looped the cable tie around Tim’s thumbs, yanking it tightly closed.
Tim winced.
“That feels …”
Armie rested his weight on Tim’s waist.
“Too uncomfortable?”
Tim shook his head.
“… Unnecessary,” he finished.
Armie smirked.
He then took his fingertips to Tim’s hands, where he began to stoke the tops of them softly.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut, displaying a movie star grin as Armie tickled his hands.
“Shhit!”
Armie chuckled.
“I don’t think there’s an inch of you that isn’t ticklish…”
Tim tried to pull his hands away, but the cable tie around his thumbs fixed them together.
Armie’s fingertips trickled down over the plastic covering Tim’s arms, down past his face and over the tufts of armpit hair protruding from Tim’s pits.
Tim’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
“WAIT.”
Armie lifted his hands off Tim and froze his position.
Tim took in a nervous breath.
“Can you … Can you scratch my nose?” He asked.
Armie smiled and hovered his finger just above Tim’s upper lip.
“Whereabouts?”
Tim shifted his head to gesture upward.
“Like, in the middle …”
Armie took his index finger to the bridge of Tim’s nose, offering a gentle scratch.
Tim closed his eyes in relief.
“A little lower…”
Armie scratched a little lower.
Tim sighed.
“Thanks.”
Armie tidied up Tim’s hair again, shuffling a little further down Tim’s waist so that he now sat more over his crotch.
“Goodness me…” Armie took in the beauty laid out before him.
Tim’s erect nipples, his soft belly button, his slim frame, exposed rib cage, delicate armpits and structured collar bone …
… Stretched out, bare, fixed into position …
… Entirely mine.
Whilst admiring his ‘lee, Armie noticed something.
“You have a beautiful suprasternal notch, Tim.”
Tim arched an eyebrow.
“Why, thank you…”
Armie expelled pleasure from his face, in the form of a blazing smile, at just how well he knew this boy.
“You have no idea what that is, do you?”
Tim shook his head slowly.
“Not a clue.”
Armie took his index finger carefully to the delve between Tim’s collar bones, in the centre of his neck, just below his Adam’s apple.
“This part of you, here …”
Tim gulped as the bob of his throat pressed against Armie’s finger.
“Oh…” Tim whispered.
Another gentle moment of silence, as Tim lay there looking up at Armie, and as Armie sat there looking down at Tim.
“As with all parts of the human body, this area has a job,” Armie announced, applying pressure to his touch.
Tim pulled his lower jaw downward, discovering immediately how sensitive his suprasternal notch might be.
“Nyah…!”
Armie continued to press inward.
“It’s there to catch sweat, during moments of intimacy …” Armie now used two index fingers to jib and jab into Tim’s suprasternal notch, as well as his collar bone and neck.
Tim jolted his head from left to right, the plastic scrunching, his curls of hair flopping.
“Okay, okay!” Tim pleaded, “We get it!”
Armie gently placed his palms over each side of Tim’s chest.
He could feel the hardness of Tim’s nipples beneath his hands.
“I bet you didn’t realise I knew so much about the human body.”
Tim swallowed down.
“No, but uh, it doesn’t surprise me, I guess you’d have to know a lot, if you’re going to be an expert at … This … Kinda stuff…”
Armie patted Tim’s chest lightly.
“Oh? You think I’m an expert?”
Tim felt stiff and rigid.
In this position, with such ticklish parts of his upper body so exposed, he wouldn’t dare attempt to relax, to let his guard down.
“Well I, I don’t have anyone else to compare you with … So uh, yeah, I guess you’re an expert, to me, a-anyway…”
Armie grinned internally.
Oh, how that will soon change.
“I’ll take that,” Armie declared.
He then picked up the blindfold, which up until now had been laying quietly next to the ball gag.
Tim’s eyes followed Armie’s hands.
“Oh shit.”
Armie stretched out the blindfolds elastic attachment and then wagged his fingers towards his chest.
“Bring your head forward.”
Tim exhaled deeply and then held his breath as he bought his head towards Armie.
“This is to help heighten your senses, to remove any predictability, any knowing of what I might do next …” Armie attached the blindfold to Tim’s head, carefully laying his head back down afterwards.
“Yay…” Tim cheered in a monotone drawl.
Armie curled his fingers around Tim’s left armpit hair.
“No sarcasm…”
Tim winced and arched his back, dropping his body back onto the plank as soon as Armie’s fingers left his pit.
“Sss-sorry…” Tim huffed.
Tim lay still and blinded, staring into nothing but black.
He flinched as Armie’s thumb pressed gently against his lips.
“No need to apologise …”
Tim went to say sorry again.
“Ss— …” but then he stopped himself and just nodded quietly into Armie’s thumb.
At this point in time, the nerves and anxiety had returned.
By now, Tim had gotten used to the feeling of dread, the knowing of what would happen next, once the ropes were knotted and the cuffs were locked.
He endured it, or, most recently, he ‘leant into it’, after taking Armie’s advice.
To Tim’s surprise, he felt Armie lift himself off of his waist.
The bed wobbled a little as Armie hopped off the mattress.
Tim could just make out the sound of Armie’s bare feet walking over the soft carpet.
Thirty seconds later, Armie returned, straddling Tim at the crotch once again.
Tim took in a sharp breath as baby oil landed over his stomach, chest and pits.
“Maaaaan,” Tim groaned, “I literally just showered…”
Armie continued to drizzle the liquid over Tim’s torso, a torso now shining in droplets of shimmering lotion.
“I don’t know why,” Armie shrugged, “Showering after something like this would probably of made more sense.”
Armie capped the baby oil and laid it out neatly beside the ball gag.
He then started to massage the liquid into Tim’s upper body.
Tim squirmed beneath Armie’s touch.
“Ah, fuck, I … I, I hate that stuff …” Tim growled.
Armie drew circles around Tim’s nipples.
“Why’s that?”
Tim shifted his shoulders from left to right.
“It ma-makes it so much, damn worse!”
Armie slid his fingertips down Tim’s sides.
Tim arched his back and clenched his teeth.
“Music to my ears,” Armie spoke in a gentle murmur.
Tim wriggled under Armie’s delicate touch as his fingers continued to press into Tim’s ribs and stomach.
With the baby oil now fully applied, Armie could swap his firm touch with a lighter one …
… Starting with Tim’s stomach.
Armie suddenly started tickling around Tim’s belly button and abs, sending the boy into a convulsed moan of hysterical giggles and laughter.
The plastic confining Tim continued to creak as he squirmed beneath Armie’s touch.
“Fuck! Fu-huh-huh-huhuhck! Wait, wait, not yet, not yeheheheheheet!”
Armie took his fingers down to the soft expanse of flesh just above the start of Tim’s growth, an area covered by Tim’s underwear and sweat pants.
Tim hissed inwards, lifting his head up and over his chest as he glared through darkness, towards the newly discovered, hyper sensitive area.
“Damn, fuck, that fucking … That fucking tickles, man!”
Armie chuckled as he scratched away at the area below Tim’s belly button.
“No shit, kid…” His fingers wiggled over the space several times, before returning to his abs and then back down to where he’d just left, “… You had no idea your tummy was this ticklish, did you?”
Tim shook his head from left to right, clamping his fingers down between each other whilst his thumbs still remained cable-tied together.
“No and, a-and it, it fucking suhuhuhuhuuuucks!”
Armie felt his arousal stiffen beneath his track pants.
“Want me to stop?” He asked.
Tim wriggled his hips from side to side.
“Obviously!”
Armie’s tickling smoothened out into a soft massage.
Tim cleared his throat and relaxed his shoulders back against the plank.
“Fuck, th-thank you…”
Armie ran his palms up Tim’s baby oil covered torso, where his fingers transformed into a claw position.
Tim heaved inwards as Armie actioned a sudden tickle all over his sides and waist, darting fast-moving fingers over ribs and hyper sensitive, silky soft flesh.
“Shit, this fucking, this fuhuhuhccking blind fold man, fuck stop!”
Tim jolted from side to side.
He arched his back and pulled his legs inwards.
The wrap around his calves kept them where they were.
He grimaced in utter torment as drool unexpectedly seemed out of the corners of his mouth.
Armie sent tickle attacks straight down to Tim’s hips, and then back up to his chest, then down to his stomach and then right up again to his collar bone.
Tim couldn’t figure out where Armie would go next.
“Fuck, man! One minute you’rehahaahahahah-heh-heh-here the, the next minute you’re therehehehehe, fucking … Stop, stop, stop!”
Tim continued to bellow out high pitched hysterics as Armie frantically jittered sporadic tickles all over Tim’s upper body.
Armie bounced up and down as Tim threw his waist towards the ceiling, then back onto the surface of the plank, then back towards the ceiling, and so on.
The bed creaked and wobbled as Armie applied further tickles to Tim’s sides, focusing on one area around his left length of ribs, whilst using his other hand to attack the right patch of Tim’s stomach.
Tim’s voice deepened, which was always a sign he’d gone past hysterical begging and into sudden, stern attempts to compromise, “NO, MAN. COME ON, STOP! STOP. STOP IT!”
Armie hissed in sadistic saliva as he continued to work Tim’s slippery sides and stomach.
“It tckles right?”
Tim screamed into Armie’s face, “YEAH, YEAH IT FUCKING TICKLES! Gragahahahahaaa stop! STOP!”
Armie danced fingertips up to Tim’s armpits.
“No, man, no!” Tim’s tone sounded gravelly and rough, “Not there man, come on!”
Armie invaded the warmth of Tim’s pits with both index fingers.
He dug, dug, dug into the very centre.
Tim twisted his body, yelling out into Armie’s hands, just inches away from his face.
He tried to bite at them, widening his jaw, snapping down on thin air.
“FUCK—“ Oblivion reached, “—Nothatticklestoomuchmanstopitplease!”
Tim spoke so quickly that the veins in his neck thickened.
“It’s too much?” Armie asked, digging harder and faster into Tim’s now sweating armpit hair.
“Yeah itstoofuckingmuch man STOP. STOP. FUCK, please, no, come on, STOP!”
Armie didn’t stop.
“On a scale of one to ten, how ticklish is it…?” He asked, calmly and politely.
Tim bucked around on the plank, the plastic creaking at every desperate pull.
“TEN, ELEVEN, TWELVE MAN I DON’T KNOW JUST PLEASE, COME ON, STOP!”
Armie’s index fingers slid from out of Tim’s pits and gently rolled around his nipples.
Armie then flattened his hands out, so both palms lay flat on Tim’s heaving chest.
He embraced a beat of silence as he allowed the boy to catch his breath.
“F-fuck … *huff, huff* … Fuck…” Tim sniffed inwards, “… That’s, that’s gotta be… *huff* … Like, one of t-the worst … Spots …”
Armie patted Tim’s skin gently.
“It sends you into …” Armie lead Tim into finishing his sentence for him.
“… Oblivion,” Tim said, breathlessly, acknowledging the wall-hitting feeling he’d experienced in his mind, only some seconds ago.
Armie smiled in satisfaction as a moment of complete-ness landed in the middle of his mind.
They were on the same page.
In sync, entirely.
Tim now existed as Armie’s sub.
And whilst being it, his mindset, his flow of thoughts, they partnered with Armie’s in a way Armie hadn’t felt with previous subs, or, as a sub himself, some years ago.
“Perfection,” Armie whispered.
Tim sniffed for a second time.
“C-can … C-can you scratch my… My nose, again?”
Armie wanted to say,
No.
He wanted to torture Tim further, by allowing the itch on the bridge of his nose to remain.
That, on top of further tickle torture, would surely drive Tim mad.
But, during his role as Tickler, as Dom, as the creature Tim knew to separate from friend and monster …
… Armie did the right thing.
He leant forwards and scratched Tim’s nose gently.
Tim sighed in relief.
He caught his breath.
He endured the tingle still buzzing around his stomach and pits.
Then, he went to say thank you.
He opened his mouth, readied his lips for the words, but before he could speak, a plastic ball found it’s way into his mouth.
“--Mphff!”
Tim flexed his fingers in panic as his voice, his ability to move his jaw, became suddenly restricted.
“Shhh …” Armie reassured, “We had a complaint from the neighbours,” he lied, “It’s just a precaution.”
Armie lifted Tim’s head up a little and then pulled the ball gags elastic strap behind it.
He then laid Tim’s head carefully back down on the surface of the plank.
Tim felt his teeth and lips form around the ball, whilst the ball stretched his mouth wide apart, in an uncomfortable, almost suffocating position.
Saliva drooped out of the corners of Tim’s mouth.
He tried to suck it back in, but the gag wouldn’t allow such relief.
Tim looked through the darkness of the blindfold, from left to right.
“Mff, mmff … Nyfff …”
Armie wiped sweat away from his own forehead.
“I won’t be able to hear you, if you need to say your safe word…” he placed fingertips gently over the ball gag, pressing down a little, further pushing the gag into Tim’s mouth, “… This thing right here will reduce any thing you try to say to muffles and moans…”
Tim took in Armie’s words as a pre-warning, whilst the gag invaded most of the space behind his teeth.
“So, if it gets too much, and you need to ‘say it’ … entwine your fingers together and squeeze them…” Armie smirked, “… Until I notice.”
Tim nodded frantically, in an attempt to speed up this entire ordeal.
“Try it for me, now, so I know that you understand,” Armie requested.
Tim entwined his fingers together, squeezing his palms against each other twice.
Armie tucked some curls of hair behind Tim’s ears.
“Good boy.”
Tim felt his tongue squash into itself, unable to slide it around the ball forced into his mouth.
He had now succumb to the drool, allowing it to leave the sides of his lips helplessly.
Darkness was all that Tim could see.
Armie’s weight over his waist had started to back the bottom of Tim’s spine ache.
Tim could feel Armie’s breath against his face, as Amie spoke, informing Tim that his head must be close to his.
“You’re all mine …” Armie whispered.
His hands trailed over Tim’s exposed upper body.
“… So vulnerable, so stretched open, so restricted …”
Tim wriggled his shoulders.
He so desperately wanted his arms back, so desperately wanted his pits hidden …
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Tim could think words …
“Fuff, fuff, uff…”
But he couldn’t say them.
“… And, during this next part, you’ll have to take it like a bitch…”
Tim felt intimidated by Armie’s language.
It felt playful but dominant, friendly but assertive, all at the same time.
Tim had no idea what to expect next.
He flexed toes within socks, within Reeboks.
He curled fingers, whilst his thumbs still remained cable tied together.
His eyelashes scratched beneath his blindfold as he shot manic looks up and down, left to right.
A feather, against his face.
No.
Tim wriggled his nose and shifted his head to the left.
The feather followed.
Fuck!
This is maddening.
The feather trailed up to Tim’s nostrils, then over the bridge of his nose.
Tim shook his head.
Curls of hair littered his cheek bones.
The feather twirled up Tim’s jaw, over his chin, down by his throat.
Tim rolled his neck, he dribbled and coughed, he scrunched up his hands, he tried to kick his feet.
He began to giggle, uncontrollably.
“Fug! Fu-mughhh! Nuuu, nu, nu, nuhuhuhuhmmphh, mphhh, mphhhphphphp!”
Anywhere Tim moved his head, the feather followed.
It won’t stop!
It twirled and twirled, spun and spun, brushed and brushed ...
It found it’s way into Tim’s ears, over his forehead, past his plump, swollen lips.
Tim screamed into the gag.
“Bingo…” Armie said to himself.
Tim had beautiful lips.
A gorgeous shape, the goal of many teenage girl to kiss …
… And now they belong to me.
Locked around a ball of plastic, sensitive and exposed …
… The perfect space of flesh to abuse, with something as simple as a feather.
Tim tried to move his head away but the feather continued brushing repeatedly over his lips at a frighteningly fast, non stop speed.
“Mffhhh whaghhhhh gu fuggg, whahhhffff guu fugggg?!”
Armie took one hand around Tim’s jaw, holding his head still.
His other hand continued to twirl the feather over Tim’s lips.
“What the fuck? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Armie teased, “I know! Who would’ve thought? Ticklish lips…”
Behind the blindfold, Tim’s eyes boiled open wide.
His teeth chewed down on the gag.
Fuck, he thought, amongst insanity riddled thinking.
I can’t take this anymore!
“… I told you, Tim. I’d find places… Places you never thought possible to be as ticklish as they are…”
Tim, under Armie’s grip, could do nothing but try and twist his head around as the feather twirled around his mouth.
Am I really going to have to say my safe word again?
Is this what’s going to make it happen?
My fucking lips, of all places!
Fuck, this is insane.
How is this possible?
God, this has to stop.
I can’t.
I can’t!
Suddenly, a dig into the left armpit.
Tim’s blinded, dark, relentless Oblivion had now found other distractions of madness, this time in the form of Armie’s index finger wiggling into the depths of Tim’s pit …
… Past wet armpit hair and into the warm caverns that made up his underarm.
Still, the feather continued …
… Whilst Armie actioned a pit tickling of his own.
“Nu! Mphhhgh! Nuh ag ga game gime mphhhh!”
Pit, lips, feather, fingers, repeat.
Tim screamed hysterically into the gag.
“What’s that, kid? Not both at the same time?” Armie teased.
Tim could no longer control his yells, his fighting, his swearing, his cussing, his expel of ridiculous giggling.
His stomach ached, his lungs burned …
… When will this end?
“Mmmf! Mffff muffffaaaa fuuuggger mfff, mfff!”
Armie applied a casual tone to his voice as he continued to tickle torture his sub.
“So, I sent an email, last night …”
Tim wriggled manically as the feather left Tim’s lips and infiltrated his scrunching nose.
“MFFF, MFFF, MFFFF!”
Armie twirled the feather around Tim’s nostrils, whilst wiggling his index finger into the depths of Tim’s left pit.
“And, the organiser of Tickle Fest would like to come here and meet you…”
Tim shook his head from left to right, curls of hair now covering his blindfold.
“I thought I’d get him round, later today …”
Tim fell deeper into this ‘oblivion’, the existential place Armie had wanted to drive him to, a plane of endurance Tim so easily found his way towards, thanks to such extreme levels of ticklish-ness …
… A maddened state of mind where all that mattered was taking the ticklish onslaught in his left armpit and over his face.
“No?” Armie shrugged, taking the feather back down to Tim’s lips, where his other hand left Tim’s left armpit and moved over to his right.
Tim lifted his waist up as Armie’s fingers moved through his armpit hair.
“Mpph, mph geg gu fugga ougga gere! Mphh, mphhh!”
“You see, he’s a good friend … A great friends actually. We have … History … And I’d love to have him over, I’d love for you to get to know him, even if it’s just for a coffee…”
Tim’s waist landed on the plank with a thud.
Armie took the feather down to Tim’s neck, right under his jaw, sending the boy further and further into hysterics.
“He has an offer, for you, that I uh … I don’t think you’ll want to turn down…”
Drool now covered all of Tim’s lower jaw and neck, where it stained the crew neck of his tee.
It even rolled down to the surface of the plank.
His hair sat in tufts of messy curls, his forehead produced beads of sweat, his throat looked thick and strained.
“Mmmffff! Nufffff mugger fuggggerrrr! Mpoppphh, mfopppppp!”
Armie took the feather away from Tim’s face.
Tim slumped against the plank lifelessly.
Armie pocketed the feather as if it were a magic wand.
Then he clapped his hands just the once, allowing Tim a moment to believe there’d be a break.
But that would not be the case.
Suddenly, he sent hands back down to Tim’s upper body, where he threw fingers onto Tim’s stomach, his sides and his waist.
Tim threw his body around, as if it were being electrocuted by thousands and thousands of volts.
Armie bear hugged Tim and curled his arms around his waist like a python.
His fingers tickled at the soft space of flesh at the bottom of Tim’s spine.
They pinched and dragged, jibbed and jabbed over the hyper sensitive, soft flesh.
Tim screamed and shouted, he clenched teeth over the irritating, plastic orb preventing him from begging properly.
“MMFF! MMFFFFUFFFERRRR FUGGGGEERRR! MUFFFFFEEEUUUERRR FUGGGGERRRR! Mfff, mphhh!”
Armie tickled and tickled and tickled and tickled and tickled …
… Tim tried to twist the plank over, by rolling his body forcefully to the side.
Armie’s weight prevented that for developing further.
He continued his torture, exploring the lower back area with glee and no mercy.
Tim muffled out begs, hysterical, desperate heaves of pleading, but Armie couldn’t make out the words.
“Mffffguhhhhuhuhhhpeeeeshhhh, uhuhuhgghuhggghuhggg, mffffphhhh, mphhhh schupppppppppp!”
Tim’s pained, gagged laughter started to transform into coughing and spluttering behind the bastard, plastic ball.
He jolted his body forcefully up and down, as if posessed.
Armie glanced up at Tim’s hands.
His fingers were entwined.
His palms squeezing together.
Armie stopped.
He rested his head on Tim’s now sweat drenched chest.
He controlled the need and the want to continue …
… He had to bury it, quickly, as he acknowledged Tim’s breathing, his hoarse intake of breath, how rapid his heartbeat felt, under his cheek.
The boys stomach lifted up and down at a speedy rate, taking Armie’s head with it as it did so.
Armie gave him his ‘lee some relief, a moment, a break.
He slid off Tim and sat in a knelt position, on the mattress, as saliva continued to roll out from under the shimmering gag squashed into Tim’s mouth.
Armie exhaled deeply and then let out a long sigh of satisfaction.
“So, Timmy … You’ll be up for meeting with my friend?”
Tim remained unresponsive.
It took a little longer to fill his lungs with air, with just his nose as means of ventilation.
Armie shuffled closer towards Tim and carefully lifted his head.
He removed the ball gag from his mouth and dropped it down on the mattress.
Tim automatically rolled his tongue over his lips and stretched out his jaw, sucking in more saliva making it’s way down over his chin.
He rested his head on the plank and swallowed down a tuft of air.
“Fuck, fuck … Give me a sec, I just need … To catch …”
Armie kept Tim blindfolded for now as he allowed Tim to grab at as much oxygen as he could.
“His name is Miller,” Armie announced, “And, he’s just like me. A little older but… Far richer… Almost as handsome…”
Tim coughed and spluttered, the buzz from Armie’s fingers still present in his pits, the feather’s tip still tingling over his lips.
“I-Is that even p-possible?” Tim cleared his throat, turning a blindfolded face towards Armie, “The richer part, I, I mean,” he clarified.
Armie chuckled.
It had been over thirty seconds.
He took his index finger and returned it quietly to Tim’s left armpit.
“It would appear so…”
Tim wriggled his shoulders and clenched his teeth.
“No, please, man, c-come on, that’s, that’s enough …” Armie’s pressure increased, “… THAT’S ENOUGH!” Tim shouted with a voice full of deep assertion.
Tim fell back into maddened hysterics as Armie tickled both of his armpits.
“MAN, AH MAN, AHHH COME ON, COME OHAHAHAAAAANNNNNNHAHANNNN! I USED MY SAFE WORD!”
As Tim continued to squirm beneath Armie’s attacks, Armie continued to explain.
“He’ll go into more detail when he arrives, but, I think it’ll be worth meeting with him… To see what he has to say…” Armie found the spot in the depth of Tim’s pits that really drove him nuts, so he stayed there for a bit, “… And I gave you a thirty second break, after the safe word. You remember the rules, right?”
Tim bit his lip and bucked up and down wildly.
“OKAY OKAY OKAY! I’LL MEET THE DAMN GUY, JUST STOP!”
Armie tickled harder and faster, scratching over Tim’s pit hair.
“Oh, this isn’t a ‘say you’ll meet him and I’ll finish the session’, situation, Tim…”
Tim smacked the back of his head repeatedly against the surface of plank as his cheeks grew red and his nostrils flared.
“CAN’T IT FUCKING BE? CAN’T IT FUHUHUHUHUHHAHAHAHACKING BE?!”
Armie lifted his shoulders in thought.
His fingers travelled down Tim’s sides, over his hips, onto his stomach.
“If you say so,” Armie said nonchalantly.
Tim heaved in air, expelling it in hysterics, as Armie tickled Tim’s tummy, waist and lower rib cage.
“Will you FUCKING stop! If I FUCKING meet him? FUCKING please!?”
Armie nodded, as if agreeing to something so simple as to what to watch on TV.
“It was going to happen anyway, but yes, I’ll stop, if you say, right now, you’ll meet Miller—“
“—I’LL MEET MILLER!” Tim cried, without any thought of hesitation, “I’LL MEET MOTHER FUCKING MILLER!”
Armie continued to wiggle his fingers into Tim’s pits, but at a far slower, softer rate.
Tim shifted his hips from side to side, scrunching up his entire face with anguish.
“Jesus!” Tim groaned, “I said I’d do it, fucking … s-stop!”
Tim laughed in disbelief as Armie continued his gentle torment.
“What if I didn’t stop, Timothée?”
Tim’s face flattened as Armie’s fingers continued to press and jab into the centre of his pits.
“Mm—I’d, I’d fucking … Man, I’d fucking kill you…” Tim growled.
“How?” Armie tested, “You’re strapped up, kid … Even your thumbs are tied … You aren’t going anywhere. I could keep you here, for days and days, as long as I want …. Tickling you, non stop… I haven’t even got to your feet yet …. I haven’t even got out my brush …”
Tim felt anxiety overwhelm his chest as he wriggled his shoulders up and down.
“Fuck, ok! Man, that’s, that’s not funny … Come on, Armie!”
Armie’s fingers wiggled to a gradual pause.
They stayed buried in Tim’s pits.
Armie moved into Tim’s head and whispered into his ear.
“You know why I don’t do that?”
Tim stayed still, so very conscious of Armie’s presence inside his pits.
“N-no …”
Armie smiled into Tim’s neck.
“Go on… Ask me why…”
Tim swallowed down an element of concern.
“W-why…?”
Armie closed his eyes, speaking into Tim’s warm skin.
“Because I’m not a monster.”
Armie kept his lips by Tim’s ears for a moment, further reinforcing his point.
Tim nodded quickly.
Armie then sat up, remaining on Tim’s waist.
He placed one hand gently on Tim’s chest, a chest that felt hot and clammy.
His other hand pulled off the blindfold, revealing Tim’s bloodshot, strained eyes.
Armie dropped the blindfold onto the mattress, wiping emotion and sweat away from Tim’s face.
Tim coughed out some hysteria and sniffed in through his nose, in an attempt to remove the itchiness created by that god forsaken feather.
Tim’s exhausted eyes caught Armie’s glance.
“You… You fucking went for it, that t-time …”
Armie placed both hands on Tim’s stomach, helping him take in as much air as possible.
“I did,” Armie felt no need to apologise, “What was the worst part?”
Tim closed his eyes as he tried to tackle an almost unanswerable question.
“A-all of it…” he spluttered, whilst trying to shift his arms downwards, “… C-can you untie me now? It’s over, right … I, I can’t take much more today…”
Armie placed an index finger over Tim’s Adam’s apple.
Tim gulped.
“Be specific…” Armie ordered.
Tim curled his fingers and glanced up at the ceiling.
Fuck, my body aches.
“The, the feather, the lips…” Tim shook his head in defeat, “… I, I had … No idea they were ticklish, I … I couldn’t handle that…”
Armie smiled, “A new discovery,” he confirmed.
He then hopped off Tim and climbed off the bed.
He glided into his walk in wardrobe and disappeared behind closed doors.
Tim lay there in silence, breathing, with only pigeon coos outside to keep him company.
Armie returned with a pair of scissors.
He jumped back onto Tim, straddling him once again, where he started to carefully cut him free.
“You know, Miller, he really is a decent guy. I think you’ll like him. Especially after he lets you know what … Suggestions, he has …”
Tim blinked his eyes free of discomfort, after having them be hidden for so long.
“I, I don’t know …” Tim sounded unsure, “I’m, I’m only doing it because, y-you made me, a-and, because I trust you…”
Armie chuckled as he started to pull the plastic wrap apart.
“I didn’t make you! You made yourself…”
Tim frowned and chose to ignore the debate.
The freeing feeling of his arms felt too good to avoid acknowledging properly.
As the plastic fell open, Tim pulled his arms down to his chest and placed his hands over his stomach.
“Can he, can he keep this a secret? What you and I … do?” Tim tried to pull his hands apart, “Like, he isn’t going to go to TMZ and tell them about all of this, right?”
Armie took the scissors and hooked them under the cable tie connecting Tim’s thumbs together.
“I told you, Tim, he’s a friend. We have a past. He’d never in his wildest dreams think of doing that to someone, especially someone he wants something from…”
Snap!
Armie pulled the scissors towards himself, cutting the cable tie.
Tim wrapped his now free arms and hands around himself.
“Something…?”
Armie placed the scissors down on the mattress.
“I’ll let him do the explaining.”
With no more tickling to action, no more hysteria, no more plastic to slice or ropes to untie …
… Tim simply sat up in silence, with Armie still on his waist.
They looked at each other, for a moment, as Tim ran his tongue over swollen lips.
Tim placed his hands behind him, leaning back slightly.
“Man, what are you doing to me?” Tim asked, quietly, and mostly to himself.
Armie tilted his head.
The boy sounded ruined, defeated …
… Changed.
Armie wanted to touch Tim’s face.
But he forced his hands to remain where they were.
“What do you mean?” Armie asked, almost too hesitantly.
Tim dropped his head back over his shoulders, unintentionally showcasing that exceptionally smooth suprasternal notch…
“Nothing,” Tim dropped his head back forward.
Armie felt something in him that told him to just go for it.
Don’t hold back.
Stop limiting this.
He placed his hands around Tim’s sides and ran palms slowly down Tim’s waist.
Armie’s palms pressed over what he thought would be Tim’s flaccid bulge, something he’d want to harden …
… But, the shape beneath Tim’s sweat pants already existed as a stiff, throbbing girth.
Armie looked up at Tim, who already faced his ‘ler.
“You’re hard?” Armie questioned.
Tim looked confused, unsure, his face painted with blushed uncertainty.
He bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering.
“How comes you’re … Hard?” Armie pressed further.
Tim stared down into Armie’s chest, his eyes filling with tears.
“I-It’s … It’s got nothing to do with, with being tickled … It’s …” Tim sniffed, “… It’s to do with, being with you, whilst we do this stuff. Doing ‘this’, feeling this way, with you…” Tim found the courage to look up, into Armie’s eyes, “… For you.”
Tim looked overwhelmed by embarrassment.
Armie understood Tim’s bewilderment.
He got the not knowing, the shift in being, after so many unique experiences over the past seven days …
… Some more unexpectedly sexually charged than others.
Still perched over Tim’s waist, Armie leant forwards and wrapped his arms around his sub.
Tim kept his hands behind him, but allowed his body weight to fall into Armie’s chest.
Armie ran his hands through Tim’s hair as he embraced him in a warm, comforting hug.
Armie kissed the top of Tim’s head.
He then felt Tim move a little, as if aiming to go upward.
Armie found Tim’s face staring up at his own.
Armie kept the hug going, but allowed enough room between their bodies for him to slide palms up Tim’s arms and over to his shoulders.
Their lips brushed against each other.
Electricity sparked, sharp and fast, in mini, white explosions …
… Until Tim moved his head away.
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and cleared his throat.
Armie slumped back down over Tim’s waist.
“I’m s-sorry,” Tim croaked, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”
Armie looked down at Tim’s crotch in silence.
“No, it’s, it’s fine. You’re fine …” He drummed up confidence to keep this moving, keep it right.
He held onto Tim’s hands and squeezed some reassurance into them, “… We’re fine,” he said.
Tim smiled and rested his forehead on Armie’s chest.
“Come on,” Armie threw positivity into his tone, “Let’s get you free, and let’s get a hot drink, some breakfast …”
He jumped off Tim, taking the scissors with him.
As he began to cut away the plastic wrap binding Tim’s legs to the plank, he simply said,
“We’ve got a visitor to prepare for.”
TCTLR continues in Chapter Sixteen - ‘The Proposal’ …