When Tim awoke he realised he no longer sat in the tickle chair.

Instead, he sat on an entirely different contraption.

Like before, his wrists had been tied to padded arm rests either side of him.

But this time, instead of his ankles being placed in stocks, his legs had been fully spread apart.

Leather restraints strapped Tim’s thighs and ankles to padded leg rests.

His body had been seated in a open star fish, his long curls of hair slicked back out of his face.

He assumed Armie had done this for him.

As he awoke, he arrived at a realisation.

He had never been forced into a position like this, in his twenty three years of living.

He had passed out.

He knew this much.

Armie had drenched his soles in baby oil and used two hair brushes to tickle each of Tim’s feet until he had lost consciousness.

Tim had no idea that you could pass out from tickling.

But Armie had denied him proper breathing.

He hadn't kept tabs on his intake.

Tim had lost control.

He also knew that this was something he could no longer do.

Something he could no longer understand.

The areas Armie had played with were far too ticklish.

Tim knew he could be sensitive.

But this ...

... This was another level.

Tim looked around the room he sat in.

He seemed to be in a bedroom, but the bed had been removed and the large star-fish shaped contraption Tim had been tied to had replaced the bed itself.

The bedroom door, once closed, clicked a little and then opened inwards.

Armie stepped into the room and smiled quietly at Tim.

“You okay, kid?” He asked.

Tim lowered his head exhaustedly and then shot his green eyes up to Armie.

“I can't remember anything... ” Tim cleared his throat and bit his lip in desperation, “… Just, just the brushes and then ...”

Armie walked into the room and turned to shut the bedroom door, "That's on me," he said.

He then turned back to Tim and headed over to the contraption he’d been tied to.

"I should've kept an eye on your breathing. I pushed you hard, and I didn't factor in the consequences," Armie placed his hand gently on Tim's left ankle, "It won't happen again."

Tim adjusted himself in this tied seating, in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"I uh, I don't think there's going to be an 'again', Armie."

Tim sounded determined.

Armie curled his finger under the leather cuff around Tim's ankle.

“What if I give you a further one million dollars?” 

The chair Tim had been tied to was quite high, so Tim’s foot came up to Armie’s waist.

“… Armie… I… I just… I can’t take it… It’s too much…” Tim sighed defeatedly, “I’m too ticklish. I'm sorry.”

Armie smiled and took his finger out from under the cuff and over to Tim’s left sole.

He pressed his finger nail gently into the soft, baby pink flesh and started to run it towards Tim’s toes.

Tim winced and immediately attempted to twist his foot away from Armie’s finger.

“Man, come on," he protested, “Seriously.”

Armie ran his finger up Tim’s not so ticklish left calf, until it reached Tim’s hyper ticklish left thigh.

Tim tried to pull his thighs together, but the straps holding them apart restricted this from happening.

“FUCK. NO, STOP. I MEAN IT.”

Tim threw his head around in despair as Armie dug his fingers into Tim’s exposed, vulnerable thighs.

“Jesus, man, Armie, enough!”

Tim found this sort of tickling unbearable.

He threw his head from left to right, catching Armie's eyes with a fierce glare that made Armie feel keen to stop.

Tim sat back and took in a frustrated breath. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make my intentions clear, Tim…”

Armie’s fingers left Tim’s thighs and then began to trail along the young boy’s sides.

Tim tightened his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut.

“… I thought it was obvious…” Armie began to gently poke into Tim’s ribs.

“… What… Do you… Mean…?" Asked Tim, through clenched teeth.

“My fantasy …” Replied Armie, “… To tickle you, like this. Don’t you remember, during our time in Italy…?”

Tim automatically pulled at his wrist restraints as Armie began to draw his fingers closer to his exposed, now sweating armpits.

Italy, Tim thought.

Yes, I fucking remember ...

And now I know.

He remembered placing his left foot in Armie’s lap, during the nosebleed scene.

He remembered Armie squeezing his toes, scraping his fingernails across the pad of his sole, running his thumb up the arch of his foot.

He remembered being caught on film squirming, hissing, writhing around in Armie’s tickling hands.

People thought Tim had been acting - that wasn’t the case.

Tim had just been portraying an intensely genuine, ticklish reaction.

“By… By the window…” Tim managed to say, as Armie’s fingers reached his armpits, “… You kept tickling me… Even though it w-w-wasn’t in the script…”

Armie grinned, “You got it, kid.”

Armie then moved behind the contraption and angled his arms so they were coming out from behind the chair.

Tim couldn’t see where Armie was headed - all he could see were his hands poking out from either side of him.

“Wha… Where… Why … What are you…” Before Tim could finish his mumbled confusion, Armie attached Tim’s ticklish armpits with his fingers.

Tim erupted into a hysterical explosion of agony and physical reaction.

He bucked around, arched his back and threw his head from left to right as his sensitive armpits were tortured by Armie’s tickling digits.

“NOOOOO! ARMIE, NOOOO! NOOOO STOP, STOP! PLEASE, PA-LEEEAAAAAAAAAASE!”

Armie grinned menacingly as he continued to dance his fingers up and down the boys’s sides, around his rib cage, inside the warmth of his armpits, until he felt he had pushed Tim to his current limit.

Deep down, he knew he could get Tim to endure further.

When Armie stopped, Tim’s body slumped into it's tied positioning. 

Armie moved back round to face him, where he tided up some curls of hair.

“You’re doing good, Tim …”

Armie looked down at Tim’s underwear.

He wore white Calvin Kleins.

Armie so desperately wanted to discover if Tim was ticklish around there.

It was why he’d tied him this way.

Armie hooked his index finger around the waist band of Tim’s underwear and looked him in the eye.

“Can I…?”

Tim replied with a hoarse tone full of desperation.

“Do what you want, for Christs sake… Do anything! Anything but tickling… I … I don’t care anymore… Anything but the tickling…”

Armie smirked and arched an eye brow, “Anything…?” He asked

Tim nodded frantically, “… A—anything…”

Wow, Armie thought.

That was it, Tim really had had enough.

He really couldn’t stand it.

And with Tim’s permission, Armie left the room.

Tim licked his lips as he waited for the tinging in his pits to fade away, as well as for Armie to come back.

When Armie returned to the bedroom, he held a pair of scissors in his right hand.

He then approached Tim slowly.

Tim wriggled in his bonds.

Armie slid the blade under Tim's underwear.

And then, he began to cut away ...

TCTLR continues in Chapter Five - ‘Sign on The Dotted Line’ …