This story takes place shortly after ‘Orlando’s Awakening’.
SHORTS NO. 4 - ‘ROLEPLAY’
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Johnny landed on the corner of the couch with a bounce.
“Offt!”
He squirmed over pillows and dug his heels into cushions as he tried to shuffle away from his captor.
“Take whatever you want, man!” Johnny whined, “Just don’t hurt me, please!”
Peter stood by the coffee table in a blue buttoned up shirt, cream chinos and leather chelsea boots.
“Hurt you?” He stretched out the remaining length of rope held firmly in both of his hands, “That’s the last thing I want to do …”
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Johnny’s hands had been tied behind his back.
Only five minutes ago, those very hands were holding onto cooking utensils; his left flicked a pancake in a frying pan whilst his right nudged a spatula against his mid morning meal.
Now, that pancake lay in pieces on the kitchen floor; the spatula had fallen from his grip, the frying pan had been smacked aside by Peter, who had dodged its metal surface from making impact against his face after Johnny had tried to use it as a weapon, seconds after he had been jumped.
“Let me go, man!” Johnny tugged at the rope snug around his wrists, “If it’s money you need, my credit card’s in my bedroom!”
Peter dropped the rope over the carpet floor; he was going to use it to tie Johnny’s ankles together, but seeing his long, hairy legs kick and slide against the couch looked far more appealing than the sight of them bound into place.
“The chances of catching you whilst you were topless were always gonna be pretty high,” Peter stroked his chin, “You’re rarely in a t-shirt, always showing off those abs, those tattoos, those glorious armpits of yours …”
Johnny buried his face into his shoulder and grunted in disgust as his captor practically dribbled as he spoke.
“But to nab you in gym gear …?” Peter shook his head in disbelief, “Now, that’s just fucking lucky …”
Johnny arched his back and spread his legs, in an attempt to push himself further up the couch; whilst doing so, he unintentionally revealed his choice of underwear, as his white gym shorts opened slightly at the thigh.
“My oh my …” Peter’s eyes widened, “ … Fucking lucky might be the biggest understatement of the year …”
Johnny began to panic as he watched Peter vibrate with excitement.
“Oh no, man! What the fuck! Get the fuck outta here!”
Peter took one step closer to the couch.
“Naked torso, tight short shorts, one of the biggest bulges I’ve ever seen …” his eyes watered at the view before him, “… Sports socks and some fresh running trainers … It’s like you were ready for me … Are you ready for me, Johnny?”
Johnny hunched his shoulders and pressed his weight into the couch; he was cornered, he had no where to go, nowhere he could run to …
Captured and overwhelmed, he lowered his head and whispered quietly, “… What are you gonna do?”
Peter picked up the briefcase beside his feet.
“I’m going to worship you, Johnny …”
Johnny shuffled back further.
“Wor, worship me? I’m, I’m not like that, man … I’m into girls! …”
Peter laid the briefcase out over the glass coffee table and chuckled into the back of his hand.
“Yeah, sure you are. Just relax, kid … You’re about to experience something pretty special …”
Johnny began to pant as he watched Peter approach him.
“No, pl, please, dude, don’t do this, lemme go, I swear, take anything! Whatever you want! Just lemme g— mpph!—”
Peter placed his right palm over Johnny’s mouth.
“The sooner you cooperate, the sooner I leave,” he narrowed his eyes in focus, “Understood?”
Johnny nodded quickly.
“Mnn, mnnph—”
Peter knelt on the couch and held onto Johnny’s shoulders.
“On your front.”
He then spun Johnny around so that Johnny lay on the surface of the couch, on his stomach.
“Hey! Go easy on me, man! Don’t throw me around!” Johnny began to kick his legs and feet, his head twisting over his shoulder as he tried to look his captor in the eye, “Get your hands offa me!”
Peter grabbed at Johnny’s ankles and gathered them side by side.
Peter then shuffled so close behind Johnny that Johnny had to bend his knees, the tops of his sneaker-clad feet now pressed firmly against Peter’s chest.
Johnny now lay squashed in a hog-tie-like position, however his wrists were not bound to his ankles, even if his heels were pressed up against the bottom of his spine.
Peter began to unpick the laces to Johnny’s footwear, his weight resting over Johnny’s feet as they squirmed across Peter’s chest.
“You ever heard of Wikifeet, Johnny?”
Johnny grunted, his hands and fingers stretching out, their position bound somewhere around his lower back.
“What the fuck!” Johnny curled the toes of his right foot as his running trainer was tugged away.
“Why am I asking such a stupid question?” Peter tutted, “You’ve always been aware of foot fetishists, and the power your feet hold, haven’t you, Johnny?”
Johnny refused to answer as he felt his left running trainer leave his left foot.
“… I’ve listened to your declaration time and time again. I felt so lucky to watch that livestream, where you said you could make money off of your feet if your pop career fails …” Peter breathed in Johnny’s socked soles, “… You wanna know whats in the briefcase? Ask me, Johnny …”
Johnny moaned into the surface of the couch as he felt his captors nose rub against the bottoms of his feet.
“Wh, what’s in the briefcase…?” Johnny asked begrudgingly.
Peter began to peel away Johnny’s left sock.
“Money …” Peter whispered, his eyes watering at the sight of Johnny’s silky soft, creamy white sole as the sock rolled back inch by inch, revealing complete and utter bare foot perfection, “… Lots and lots of money …”
Johnny’s toes curled into a clench as the sock left his foot entirely.
“You’re gonna pay me, for, for worshipping my feet?—”
Peter began to remove Johnny’s right sock.
“Exactly that, stud …”
Johnny giggled into a nearby pillow and shrugged his shoulders, his muscular back and long spine shining in the morning light as Peter ran his fingertips over Johnny’s soles.
“That’s f, fine by me!” Johnny could not believe his luck, “How about you untie me, too! This would be easier if I could— Mnn!—”
Johnny gasped as he felt his captor suck on his left big toe.
“Mmm, they taste so good …” Peter spoke as if mesmerised, his mouth now consuming both of Johnny’s big toes at the same time, an easy act considering how closely side by side they were, “… So round … So juicy …”
Johnny winced and squeezed his eyes shut as all eight of his un-sucked toes wriggled like fresh worms out of wet soil.
“—Be, be careful, man!—” he arched his back and lifted his head, chunks of floppy brown hair littering the top half of his face, “—Gosh, that, that really tickles… Damn! …” Johnny became flustered and overwhelmed almost instantly, his feet trying their hardest to cross over each other, but Peter held them firmly in place, “… Ow! No biting, owwww!”
Peter smirked as he nibbled on Johnny’s middle toe, his teeth nipping and grazing over the flesh as he licked and sucked on the soles of Johnny’s feet, the young mans legs now kicking into Peter’s chest.
“Are you a little sensitive, Johnny?”
Johnny’s face had now grown a deep shade of red, “Ah, wait, you, you gotta stop—”
Peter chewed on the second to last toe of Johnny’s right foot, where he immediately felt a fierce jolt take place as soon as his teeth clamped hold of the fleshy digit.
“Ohhh, this one feels super ticklish …” Peter dribbled.
Johnny twisted his torso to the left, “—Stop!—” and then he twisted it to the right, “No tickling! No biting! Stop it!—” he hissed and widened his eyes as too much attention took place over his second to last toe, “Oh! Stop! Please! Stop biting! This, this isn’t worship!—”
Peter chewed and bit, nibbled and slurped over Johnny’s soles, his teeth working as tickling pincers for the tops, bottoms and betweens of Johnny’s ultra ticklish toes, causing the twenty one year old to squirm and writhe over the couch with such fury that pillows and cushions had started to land on the floor.
“—Gah! Ahaha! Oh god! Man, stop, quit it, ow! Ow! Oh! Ahaha! Ah! Please, come on!—”
“—You know what else is in the briefcase, Johnny? Ask me …”
Johnny grunted and bounced into the air as his captor nibbled on his left pinkie toe.
“Wh, what else,” Johnny whined, all ten of his toes now scrunching so tightly that the tops of his feet had started to ache, “What else is, is in th, the briefcase!”
For a moment, the sucking stopped.
Johnny caught his breath and face planted the couch as his captor unclipped the briefcase’s latch.
Click!
Btzzzzzzzzzz …
Johnny snapped his eyes open as he felt plastic, vibrating bristles buzz over the second to last toe of his left foot.
“—Agh! Oh my god!—” Johnny tried to roll over onto his back, but Peter kept him on his front, “—Ssss, sss, stop! Pl, please, anywhere but there! Go back to the biting!—”
Peter dragged the electric toothbrush across Johnny’s second to last toe, whilst using his other hand to gently stroke the sole of Johnny’s right foot.
“Didn’t expect this, did you, Johnny?”
Johnny’s jaw stretched open as he giggled into the couch, his giggles developing into sturdy laughter, his laughter transforming into deep, breathless bellows within a matter of seconds.
“—Oh! Oh my god! Oh, oh my, oh my, oh my gahahahahahahah—ahahahahahaha—ahahahahahaha—ahahahahahad!—” Johnny heaved, “—Please, quit it, not there, not my toes, oh my god, oh, oh my god, oh my gahahahahaha—ahahahahaha—ahahahahaha—ahahahahahad please stop, stop, stop, stopstopstopstopstop, come on!—”
Johnny tried to twist his feet away from the electric toothbrush but Peter had gathered them too expertly against his chest; from here, Peter could lean down and suck and nibble, as well as journey the toothbrush across his soles, from heel to toe - if he really wanted to, he could land the electric toothbrush down over Johnny’s back, where it would travel across his spine, over his waist, down to his hips and over the two plump ass cheeks covered by gym shorts …
As Johnny continued to giggle and scream, Peter took his free hand and yanked Johnny’s gym shorts down past his thighs.
Johnny gasped, “—Oh my gohahahahahahahahahahahad whahahahahahat are yoohoohooohoohooohoooohoo doo-oo-oo-oo-ooing!—” suddenly, his jock strap covered ass was revealed to his captor in the form of two perky, smooth, hairless ass cheeks both snug and neatly contained between two stretching straps of elastic, “—No, n, not my ass, n, not my ahahahahahahaahahaha—ahahahahaha—ahahahahahass!—”
Johnny tried to use his hands to cover his buttocks, but Peter dodged the attempts at blocking by jumping the electric toothbrush from one spot to the other; he started the ass tickling around Johnny’s taint and then he worked it under Johnny’s left ass cheek, where he would then speedily take it over Johnny’s balls and towards the tiny tight dot that made up his hole - all the while, Johnny wriggled his hips and shook his ass as he howled into the surface of the couch, his mind now fully consumed by tickle torment.
“—Not my ass! Oh my god, please, stop! Stop, stop, lemme go, stop, please! Enough! Quit it, please! Oh! Oh! Oh! O, hahahaha! Hahahaha! I’m begging you, seriously, for real, stop!—”
Johnny broke character as soon as Peter specifically pressed the electric toothbrush against his asshole, whilst nibbling on the second to last toe of his right foot.
“—Oh! Oh! Oh! O, okayokayokayokayokay —Peter— I, I can’t take it, man, you gotta stop! I’m losing my mind over here! You said there would be some nibbling, oh! Hahaha! Ahahahaha! Ahahaha, th, th, this is fucking outrageous, dude!—”
Peter chewed on Johnny’s toe as his foot kicked and twisted, “Play along, Johnny! You were doing so well…” he drew circles over Johnny’s ass cheeks with the electric toothbrush, “… Come on, you can take it …” he loved feeling Johnny’s foot twist and curl around his teeth and tongue …
Johnny shook his head as he began to pull and tug at his wrist restraints, “—No, no way, man! I, I can’t fucking take this! It, it tickles too much!—”
Peter glanced down at Johnny’s hands, as soon as he noticed the young singer become slightly successful in his escape; the boy had some strength in his arms that he did not put to waste - before Peter knew it, Johnny had already wriggled his right hand free of rope …
Peter used this opportunity to level things up, whilst Johnny focused on breaking free.
He switched off the electric toothbrush and then shuffled back, taking Johnny’s gym shorts with him as he did do.
Johnny giggled in disbelief as he was stripped, whilst working his way out of the bondage tied around his wrists, “—You son of a bitch!—” he cried.
Now in just a jock strap, Johnny felt Peter grab at his right ankle, where his ‘captor’ looped an easy loop around his right foot.
Johnny tried to kick, but part of his brain was too focused in picking apart the knot at his wrist; with a determined bite over his upper lip, he was almost there in fully freeing himself.
Peter huffed and pick up a sweat as he shoved and pushed Johnny back into the corner of the couch; the couch was a ‘L’ shape, so there were lengths of couch either side of Johnny, with corners to tie his legs to.
Peter tied the length of rope around Johnny’s right ankle to the bottom right corner of the couch.
Johnny kicked his left leg as Peter tried to grab hold of it, his wrists almost out of their knotting, his right leg now forced into place.
“—What the fuck man! I can’t stretch like that!—” Johnny protested, as Peter yanked Johnny’s left leg apart so that his left ankle was tied to the left corner of the couch.
Johnny broke out of his wrist restraints and leaped towards his right ankle in an attempt to continue his escape, but Peter grabbed both of Johnny’s wrists and threw them above his head.
Peter now rested most of his weight against Johnny; Peter’s chest pressed against Johnny’s chest, Peter’s face was inches away from Johnny’s face, both men were breathless and flustered as they looked each other in the eye.
Johnny’s arms were pinned above him, his legs spread as he sat squashed into the corner of the couch, both of his feet tied to each corner.
During the battle, Johnny’s jockstrap had shifted a little across his waist - the cotton cup containing his cock and balls now sat a little too far up his crotch, more closer to his navel, exposing the delicate space between his ass and thighs.
Peter kept Johnny’s arms above his head by pinning his wrists together with one hand.
“Gotcha—” Peter whispered.
Johnny could not contain his smile as he looked into Peter’s lips.
“You got me,” he muttered breathlessly.
Peter then trailed the fingertips of his free hand down Johnny’s forearms.
Johnny giggled and wriggled his shoulders, his chin planting over his chest as he hissed and shook his head.
“Oh, oh damn! Fuck, damn!—” He cursed.
Peter’s touch arrived at Johnny’s left underarm, where his fingers combed gently through the thick curls of hair that made up the depths of Johnny’s left armpit.
“Ah! Oh god, Peter, fuck! Come on, lemme go, my, my thighs are starting to b, b, burn—”
Johnny threw his head back as he watched Peter’s fingers dance across his chest, where they then made their way over his butterfly tattoos and towards the abs of his stomach.
Johnny twisted his hips from side to side as he kicked his legs, his feet pinned into place, his long thighs spread so far apart that he may as well be doing the splits.
“Gimme a break!” Johnny wheezed, “You’re relentless, man! I’m not a damn gymnast! My legs are, are—”
—Peter smirked.
His fingertips tickled over Johnny’s bulge and between his thighs, where they then wiggled over his left thigh.
Johnny giggled breathlessly into Peter’s chest, his entire body caught, his sensitive flesh and ticklish skin all splayed out for Peter to devour.
As soon as Peter arrived at Johnny’s taint, Peter knew that Johnny had kept a ticklish spot hidden from him since they had met.
Johnny winced and squeezed his eyes shut, his thighs keen to pull into each other, his knees nudging upward, the rope pulling his ankles apart squeaking…
“Oh?” Peter looked Johnny in the eye.
Johnny opened his eyes and nodded slowly.
“Oh …” Johnny chuckled.
Peter carefully removed the cup around Johnny’s bulge.
Johnny’s large and flaccid cock and balls fell out into the open air where they then dangled between his thighs and over the edge of the couch.
Johnny huffed, his arms still pinned above his head against the living room wall.
“Listen very carefully,” Peter warned, “Don’t laugh or giggle for ten seconds, and I let you go, the cash is yours, we go grab a Burger King …” Peter explained, “… Make any noise, and you do a foot modelling shoot with Bulk and I, free of charge … Got it?”
Johnny pressed his lips together, “But, I need that money for my tour—” he whined.
Peter tightened his grip over Johnny’s wrists.
“—Understood?—”
Johnny winced and nodded just once.
Peter smiled.
With his free hand, he then started to tickle Johnny’s taint and balls.
“One …”
Johnny closed his eyes and breathed in calmly.
“Two …”
He bent his knees and tugged at his arms, his eyes now closed with such strength that they appeared as tiny slits in his face.
“Three …”
Peter’s stroking fingers worked the soft flesh around Johnny’s thighs.
“Four …”
Johnny huffed and bit his lower lip, his cheeks boiling red.
“Five …”
Peter tickled the base of Johnny’s now semi erect cock.
“Six …”
Johnny opened his mouth and poked out his tongue …
“Seven …”
Peter’s fingertips journeyed up to the bottom of Johnny’s stomach where they tickled his abs and drew circles around his navel.
“Eight …”
Johnny shook his head with such speed that his hair now blinded him entirely.
“Nine …”
As soon as Peter’s fingertips arrived at Johnny’s right armpit, Johnny spat out a giggle.
“—Aghah!—”
Johnny closed his mouth and opened his eyes.
“—Fuck,” he hissed.
Peter kissed Johnny’s forehead.
He let his ‘captee’s’ hands go and stepped away from the couch.
Johnny lowered his head and sighed into his chest as he slumped into the corner, both of his spread apart legs trembling as his thigh muscles started to ache.
Peter picked out his cell phone and dialled Bulks number.
“Hey, Bulk. Johnny and I are headed to the studio …” he looked into the briefcase and eyed the many tickle tools laid out inside, surrounded by dollar bills, as Johnny glanced up at Peter with a flirtatious blink.
“… Get the camera ready, will you?” Peter grinned, “And the tickle chair, too ..
… Our boy is in for one long afternoon …”
READ MORE JOHNNY ORLANDO TICKLE FICTION IN ‘ORLANDO’S AWAKENING’