CHAPTER THIRTY THREE - ‘STRAITJACKET’
-
Twenty two days into The Agreement …
… Eight days left.
The Rolls-Royce purred to a halt after travelling through New York City, arriving outside a designer store in the heart of Manhattan.
Timothée stepped out, dressed in a black leather jacket, white t-shirt, cargo pants and boots.
He wore sunglasses and a cap over his head, his thick curls of hair dangling at either side of his face.
With the city still in lockdown, Armie had to pull more than just a few strings to allow Tim’s favourite brand to open up, just so he could shop for an outfit using the credit card he had acquired during The Trial.
The driver of the Rolls-Royce remained in his seat, keeping the vehicle in place as Tim strolled towards the entrance of the store where a security guard opened the door for him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Chalamet,” The security guard said.
Tim removed his sunglasses, “Hey, man. Uhh, you can call me Tim …”
The security guard held a face mask in one hand and a small bottle of hand gel in the other.
“Very well, Mr. Tim. Please wear this and sanitise your hands before browsing.”
Tim picked up the face mask and hooked the elastic bands around each of his ears, popping the mask over his mouth and nose as the doors to the shop swung shut.
When the pandemic started, Tim disliked wearing the coverings on a daily basis - he disliked how stuffy they made him feel, how itchy his chin would get.
But after everything he had endured since signing The Agreement, along with the ball gags, blindfolds, hoods and suspension …
… Covering a small part of his face with a thin layer of cotton felt like no challenge at all.
He squeezed some liquid gel into his palms, rubbing them together as he began to walk around the empty store, void of public and customers, per Armie’s request.
Standing in the corner by himself was a store assistant.
He wore a smart black suit and held his hands behind his back - a mask covering his mouth and nose also.
Tim nodded at him, “Yo,” before going back to eyeing the brand's collection of silk shirts, backless jump-suits and sparkly midnight coloured cropped jackets …
Armie had suggested he choose something more than special to wear for their date, something he would select if he were to arrive at a film premiere or awards show.
Tim had always been experimental with his style and fashion - he always wanted to make an impact.
Surprising the crowd and the press with an unconventional outfit choice excited him.
Unlike other celebrities Tim was very self aware.
He had full understanding of his abilities as a famous person and the power fame gave him.
Whilst many other stars might crumble under the pressures of acclaim, Tim used his popularity to his advantage, strengthening the longevity of his career by keeping people interested.
It had only been a few years ago that he had worn a glittery harness to the Golden Globes …
Little did he know back then, flash forward to 2020, and Armie would secretly be dressing him up in actual forms of physical bondage.
After checking out most of the product, Tim had gathered a selection of items, completing his privately approved shopping session by picking up a pair of pointed leather boots to finish the desired look.
The store assistant led Tim to a fitting room, where he then went out the back to locate Tim’s outfit and boots in the correct sizing.
Ping!
Tim took his iPhone out from the inside of his jacket and checked the screen.
Armie: You suited and booted yet?
Tim felt his throat tighten, a sharp pang of anxiety pierce his chest, his heart rate rise …
A sudden and fierce jolt of exhilaration filled his body.
He stood there, in silence, staring down at his phone, confused as to how strongly he felt, wondering what to say back.
He began to grow more nervous the longer it took for him to respond.
He forced down the butterflies and pinched the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb.
He then began to type out his reply.
Tap tap tap tap!
Timothée: in the fitting room as we speak.
Armie: …
Armie: …
Tim didn’t blink as he watched the three dots bob up and down, his intent stare into his screen broken by the return of the store assistant.
“Here you go, Mr. Chalamet.”
Ping!
Armie: Make sure the curtains are closed.
Tim took the items from the store assistant in a flustered hurry, muttering a quick, “Thanks!” before stepping back inside the fitting room and yanking the curtains shut, concealing himself away from the rest of the store.
Tim dropped his outfit onto the fitting room's bench, yanked the face covering away from his face and then typed out his response.
Timothée: why. u worried someone’s gonna take a peek
Tim knelt down and began to unlace his boots.
Ping!
He stepped out of his footwear and then unbuttoned his cargo pants.
Armie: I’m worried someone might hear you …
Tim raised his eyebrows.
As he pulled his trousers down to his ankles, another uncontrollable feeling took hold of his body.
This time, it was not an emotional reaction to Armie’s out-of-the-blue text.
It was a physical one, one created by a remote control being pressed miles away from the comfort of Armie’s apartment.
Tim fell forwards, placing his palm over the wall of the fitting room, his head hanging over his chest, his jaw stretching open.
His eyes began to water as a mixture of hyper sensitive, overwhelming pleasure gathered around his hips.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzttttttt …
Tim’s face boiled red.
He licked his lips, desperate to contain disgruntled moans and the need to swear out loud.
He pressed his fist into his mouth and stumbled out of his cargo pants, disbelief taking over him as he realised how hard he had grown in just a matter of seconds.
“Everything alright in there, sir?” The store assistant asked.
Tim nodded frantically, unable to remove anymore clothes, standing with trembling knees in his jacket, tee, underwear, cap and socks.
“Yup—“ he bit into his knuckles, “—Everything’s … f-fine …”
Tim reached out for his iPhone, the butt plug’s vibrate persisting, its press over his prostate proving too intense to handle.
Tim’s thumbs tapped furiously over the screen, typing out the only word he could create quick enough, the only word that summed up how he felt right here right now.
Tap tap tap tap tap tap!
Timothée: STOP
Armie: …
Tim flared his nostrils, willing Armie’s reply to arrive quicker, the enormous ache of arousal stretching over his taint, through his balls and up his shaft, to the point where his erection had started to poke out of the top of his underwear.
Btzzz—!
Tim sighed out relief.
Armie: Better?
Tap tap tap tap!
Timothée: don’t do that again
Timothée: bastard !!
Timothée: 😂
Armie: …
Armie: …
Tim removed his cap, running fingers through his hair, glaring into the fitting room's ceiling.
Ping!
Armie: How’s the hard on?
Tim huffed, shaking off his jacket, a layer of sweat developing over his shoulders.
Timothée: rock
Timothée: solid
Ping!
Armie: 🍆
Armie: I want to see your feet.
Tim paused, pursing his lips, looking down at the clothes he had chosen and then at the closed curtains behind him.
He wondered what the store assistant might be thinking, if he were still waiting outside or if he had gone elsewhere.
Tim hooked his index finger over the pearl choker around his neck.
He arrived at the realisation that Armie had always intended for him to go shopping, alone, with the device plugged inside him this way …
To be controlled from a far, to be put on the spot, made to endure such a feeling in a public situation.
For the first time since the pandemic started, despite the financial problems it had thrown his way, as well as being the main reason he had even signed up for all of this …
Tim felt thankful the city still stood in lockdown.
Thankful that there were no other customers in this store, or strangers either side of him in their own fitting rooms.
Tim’s gratitude was then replaced by a burst of mischievousness.
Tap tap tap tap tap …
Timothée: you see them all the time 😉
Timothée: they’re yours when I get back …
Armie: …
Armie: …
Tim began to pick up a belt he’d chosen, assessing its design as he waited for—
—Ping!
Armie: I can make you yell, Timmy.
Armie: It’s only on the first setting.
Tim’s eyes widened.
He felt his mouth lift into a smirk.
He typed out his response, fully aware of the potential consequences once the message had been sent.
Timothée: wearing boots
Timothée: all the time
Timothée: for the next week !
Timothée: 🤪
The bottom of Tim’s spine turned to jelly as the device began to vibrate for a second time.
Btttzzzzzzzzzz!
Tim could hear it in his mind.
He hoped that’s as far the buzzing noise went …
He gasped, his eyelashes fluttering, the sensation so powerful that it made his cock twitch.
A third of Tim’s erection had now made its way out of the elastic waistband of his briefs, a drop of pre cum presenting itself at the tip of Tim’s hard on.
Tim shook his head.
If Armie’s behaviour continued, he would explode on the spot.
Tim typed away as quickly as he could, misspelling in his hurry.
Timothée: ok stp tjats too mucch
… Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …
Tim pulled his t-shirt into his mouth, chewing down on the dry cotton, his green eyes taking in more bobbing dots as Armie purposefully took his time to reply.
Armie: …
Armie: …
Armie: I said, show me your feet.
Without any further hesitation, Tim began to pull off his right sock..
He hopped on the spot, struggling to remove the left as the vibration increased, Armie obviously using the remote to take the butt plugs setting from the first setting to the second, possibly even to the third …
Tim had to press his lips shut, a verbalised ‘PLEASE’ about to leave his mouth …
Tim stood facing the fitting room mirror with his legs shakily apart, the outline of his throbbing erection in his underwear …
Some of his t-shirt still clinging to his mouth, revealing the smoothness of his stomach …
His feet bare …
He did not care that his eyes were watering in the reflection - this would have to do.
Click!
Tim took a photo with his iPhone and then sent the picture to Armie.
Btzzzzzzz—-!
Tim relaxed, his shoulders dropping, the t-shirt falling out from between his teeth.
“… Fuck,” he whispered.
Ping!
Tim glanced down at his iPhone.
Armie: You look like you’re about to pop.
Tim blew his lips together.
“Pfft.”
Tap tap tap tap!
Timothée: you can say that again …
Timothée: how do they look 🦶🏻
Armie: …
Armie: …
Armie: … Beyond perfect, as always.
Armie: I’m uploading it to your wikifeet page now.
Tim: 😡
Armie: I’m joking!
Armie: Now get trying on.
Armie: Our reservation is booked for seven.
Armie: I need you in my room for six.
Armie: I can’t wait to wine and dine you, Timmy …
Tim dropped his iPhone down over his pile of clothes where it landed with an almost perfect plop.
He closed his eyes, folded his arms across his chest and leant his back against the fitting room wall.
Those butterflies returned …
For the first time since signing The Agreement, Tim felt genuine excitement about not knowing what would happen next.
***
At 5.52 pm, Tim stood in front of another mirror.
This time the mirror was in his own bedroom in Armie’s apartment and instead of a flustered, highly aroused, reflection staring back at him …
Timothée of tonight presented itself instead; iPhone in hand, taking another selfie - this time not for Armie, but for himself.
Admit it, Tim thought.
You do look pretty good.
He wore the pearl choker he had been given during The Trial.
His hair had been styled with a majority of his dark curls tucked behind his ears, some wispy strands gathering at the sides of his head in a natural bounce.
From the store, he had chosen a long sleeved sheer top.
It sat tight around his figure and showcased everything underneath; his lean, long torso, tiny navel, broad shoulders and smooth chest.
In this light, he could see how structured his abs had grown in just under a month.
After all, he had more or less endured an intense physical work out everyday, from the tickle torture Armie had put him through and the levels of hysteria that had left his stomach.
Tim had succeeded in his sought out aesthetic.
He wanted his ticklish body on show for Armie.
After all, I can tease too.
The top had been neatly tucked into low waist slim fit trousers.
The fit hugged his bulge, a bulge ever present thanks to the butt plug wedged inside of him.
The backs of the bottoms also wrapped perfectly around his butt, their length resting a few inches above the ankle, showcasing just the right amount of leg before his feet were concealed in shiny black leather boots.
He had also purchased an over the shoulder pouch that contained his iPhone, cologne and a packet of mints.
Timmy took the photo, pleased with the result.
He adjusted the bag strap comfortably over his front, lowered his head but kept his eyes on his reflection.
He tucked his hands into his pockets, pressed his right heel over the carpet, swung from side to side in a casual pose as he assessed himself from head to toe.
It then dawned on him how important it felt for his appearance to be right for Armie.
More than right,
More than perfect,
More than sexy or handsome or attractive …
A ‘more’ that he could not explain, along with a myriad of other feelings and emotions that had landed in his lap since The Trial.
Tim left his reflection and made his way to Armie’s bedroom, arriving right on time.
The need to knock on doors or the potential mishap of bumping into each other partially dressed no longer existed as issues between them both.
So Tim nudged Armie’s bedroom door open with the toe of his left boot, entering with confidence and a smile, his hands resting in front of him, one hand holding the other wrist.
Armie stood waiting, dressed in a burgundy coloured suit, a crisp white shirt and black leather loafers.
His hair had been slicked back, his skin glowing with a faint vibrance, a large grin drawn across his face as he took in Tim’s appearance.
Tim stood with his feet apart, his back straight, a posture he had practised hundreds of times before on the red carpet, a stance that always filled him with self assurance.
Armie stroked his jaw, air leaving his lips in a huff of bewilderment.
“My oh my …”
He approached Tim slowly, his eyes starting their trail at his boots, travelling towards his bulge, over his sheer material covered stomach, past those ticklish sides and up to his jaw and lips.
He arrived inches away from Tim.
Tim swallowed down, his own eyes fixed at Armie’s mouth.
“You … You look nice,” Tim said, closing his eyes, regretting using the word ‘nice’ almost immediately.
Armie smiled.
“I mean, you uh, you look, you look handsome,” Tim laughed down into his chest, suddenly aware of how much of an awkward intermediate he was when it came to complimenting a man he had just slept with, “What, what I’m trying to say is that you look—“
Tim stopped speaking as soon as Armie’s index finger landed over his lips.
He blinked, watching Armie use his free hand to hold onto Tim’s right wrist.
He then lifted Tim’s arm into the air.
Armie’s finger left Tim’s lip.
That hand then curled around Tim’s left wrist, where he lifted it into the air also.
Tim ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, his armpits fully exposed beneath the thin, see-through material that made up his top …
Armpits that only yesterday had been fully shaved, then drenched in baby oil, then tied into an unprotected position …
Then stroked,
And scratched,
And tickled in a way that Tim had not thought possible.
Tim felt just as nervous as he did twenty four hours ago, during his third test of The Trial.
Armie kept Tim in this position as he neared in on his mouth, kissing his neck gently at first and then taking his affection towards his lips in a gentle brush.
“You look incredible,” Armie announced.
Tim’s head fell back a little, where he accidentally offered Armie the beneath of his jaw and the shape of his throat.
Armie began to kiss the sides of Tim’s Adam’s apple, his kisses venturing around the pearl choker sitting snug around Tim’s neck.
Tim felt shivers run up his back, his own hands wanting to pull down and hold onto Armie, but they were caught too tightly above him for now.
“Do we …” Tim held in a gasp, Armie’s tongue arriving at an exceptionally sensitive area at the side of his neck, “… Do, do we have to eat? Can’t we, can’t we just …”
Go on, Tim thought.
Say it.
You want it.
Can’t we just …
Can’t you just …
“Can’t you just fuck me again?”
Armie yanked Tim’s hands back down to his waist.
He then spun Tim on the spot so that Tim’s back pressed against his chest.
Armie then used just his right hand to snatch Tim’s wrists together, pulling them carefully behind his back.
Tim resisted at first, squirming on the spot, but Armie’s strength overwhelmed him and before he knew it, he had been forced into position.
Tim stood, bound by Armie’s grasp, the feeling of Armie’s erection pressing into his behind.
“I’ve got another challenge for you, Tim,” Armie whispered into Tim’s left ear.
Tim closed his eyes as the Armie’s fingers to Armie’s right hand tightened around his wrists.
“I, I thought The Trial was over?” Tim questioned.
Armie smirked, breathing in the scent of his sandalwood hair wash that Tim had used on his own head of curls earlier this afternoon.
“Don’t worry,” Armie reassured, “It’ll be the last one. I promise.”
Tim felt his heart sink at the words ‘it’ll be the last one’.
Shit, Tim thought.
I don’t want this to end.
Tim struggled in his hold, a grunt leaving his lips.
“You, you wrapping this up already?” He asked in a huff.
Armie shook Tim still, speaking through clenched teeth.
“The challenge is simple,” Armie’s declaration arrived in a growl, “Make it through the next five hours without coming, and I won’t put you through my most intense fantasy …”
His voice deepened into a tone drenched with warning.
“… Fail, and you witness what I’m really made of.”
Tim wriggled once again, this time harder, wanting to twist out of Armie’s clutch so he could look him in the eye.
Btzzzzzzzzzzz …
Tim’s weight fell into Armie, the reason for Armie holding Tim this way now obvious.
Tim’s legs stretched out, the back of his head pressed into Armie’s chest, his erection growing beneath the tightness of his trousers.
“Mnnn—“ Tim’s lips parted, “—Mother fucker—“ he hissed.
Btzzzz—!
Armie clicked the remote in his left hand.
Tim deflated as soon as the buzzing stopped.
Armie let Tim go, stepping back.
Tim spun around, wiping some emotion away from his nose, his fierce glare fixed on Armie’s chest.
“Your most intense fantasy…?” He dropped his hands to his side, still enduring a dull ache around his hips, “… Correct me if I’m wrong but literally everything we’ve done so far has been inten—”
“—You sound afraid,” Armie dusted off his suit jacket, adjusting the cuffs, popping the remote back inside his pocket.
Tim searched the bedroom floor for thoughts and answers.
“Well, it, it sounds … It sounds like you might wanna h—“
“—All you have to do … ” Armie interrupted his lee, returning to him with warmth in his eyes, once again placing his index finger over the young man’s mouth, “… Is make sure that not even an ounce of orgasm leaves these lips.”
He smiled at Tim, the fingertips to his other hand stroking the sheer covered skin that made up the bottom of Tim’s back.
“Can you do that, Timothée?”
Tim nodded into Armie’s finger, blinking quickly as additional goosebumps arrived under Armie’s touch, this time exploding across the flesh that made up his waist.
“It’s … It’s only five hours,” Tim mumbled, his lips brushing up and down a finger still pressed against his mouth.
Armie chuckled, admiring the boy's confidence whilst also finding entertainment in his naivety.
He kissed the tip of Tim’s nose.
“Don’t wish them away.”
Tim wriggled his nose, glancing down down at his feet, hooking his index fingers over the waist of Armie’s trousers.
“The only thing I’m wishing for is that you keep your hands off that damn remote.”
Armie laughed into Tim’s mouth, kissing him once again, his hand taking hold of Tim’s.
As they headed downstairs to meet the Rolls-Royce that would take them to the restaurant, Armie curled his hand around Tim’s and squeezed it, announcing the start of their date.
“Let the challenge begin.”
***
During the journey into Soho, Armie had decided to sit in the length of passenger seats opposite Tim.
This confused Tim at first, but five minutes into the Rolls-Royce’s speedy drive through the streets of an empty, locked down New York, the reasoning to his placement within the luxury vehicle became apparent.
Armie picked up Tim’s right foot and placed it in his lap.
Tim hid a grin with the back of his hand, shifting his eyes out of the side window, where he watched brightly lit skyscrapers and apartment buildings move past in the nighttime.
Armie began to pull off Tim’s boot.
Tim’s now black socked foot rested over Armie’s crotch.
Armie dropped the boot down over the seat beside him.
He then pinched the heel of Tim’s sock and slowly began to peel away the warm, cotton material, revealing the bare sole of Tim’s foot second by second.
Tim didn’t look at Armie once, smiling into the window, hooking his teeth over his knuckles as he felt the sock leave the tips of his toes.
Only the sound of the purring engine, beeping traffic and bumps in the road could be heard as Armie began to lift Tim’s foot towards his mouth.
The driver remained unaware of the events taking place in the back of the car.
Armie kissed Tim’s index toe at first, breathing in the moist scent of his skin, before taking the entire toe fully inside his mouth.
Tim closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
Armie began to suck Tim’s index toe like a lollipop, his tongue running up and down its silky smooth, fleshy length.
Tim breathed in, keeping the air inside his throat, focusing on not kicking Armie in the face.
Armie curled both hands around Tim’s ankle, keeping his foot by his mouth, controlling the natural tugs and yanks that came along with Tim responding to such a sensitive feeling gathering around such a ticklish part of his body.
Armie then consumed all five of Tim’s toes.
He sucked on each one, his tongue invading their betweens, his lips pressing down on their plump ends …
Tim pressed his hands down over the seat, lifting his butt up a little, bumping his head over the car’s ceiling.
“Ow!”
Tim dropped back down, wincing as his butt plug pressed further inside him on impact.
His own cock twitched, his prostate pushed too suddenly, thanks to his own uncontrollable movements.
Tim reached forwards, his hands pulling Armie’s hold away from his ankle.
“Man, come on, you, you know I can’t take that …”
Armie slid Tim’s toes out of his mouth, a line of saliva connecting them to his lower lip.
Armie had lubricated them enough.
He then placed the foot back down over his lap.
He began to unzip his trousers.
He pulled out his cock, allowing it to stand beside Tim’s foot, erect, hard, throbbing and strong.
Armie didn’t have to direct or advise, instruct or suggest.
By this point, Armie thought.
He knows what to do.
For the rest of the drive to Soho, Armie sat in complete content, watching the scenery roll by the passenger window …
As Tim curled his toes around Armie’s shaft, massaging it gradually with the shape of his foot.
***
The waiter strolled up to Armie and Tim’s small, circular table with a tray containing their drinks.
Armie had chosen a double whiskey on ice, whilst Tim had gone for a large white wine.
They had been seated in the middle of the restaurant, surrounded by empty chairs, tables and candlelight.
Just like with the store earlier today, Armie had ‘hired’ the place out entirely for he and Tim, something the restaurant's management team had no issue with considering they had only been able to process takeout orders since the city closed down.
The waiter placed the drinks on a table draped with a cream sheet, its surface neatly decorated with expensive china, shining cutlery and a single candle that had been positioned right in its centre.
“Are you ready to order, gentlemen?” The waiter asked.
Tim glanced over at Armie, unknowingly awaiting approval.
Armie nodded once, his eyes still trailing over the menu.
“We’re ready.”
He shot an allowing look at Tim, gesturing for him to go first.
“Uhh,” Tim made an on the spot choice, too overwhelmed by the plates on offer, “I’ll have the breaded chicken with the mayo … The cheese burger, and uh, a side of french fries …”
Armie’s eyes widened as Tim continued his order.
“… The mozzarella bread, the garlic mushrooms, uhm …”
Armie watched Tim’s jaw stiffen as he pressed his thumb down on the remote.
The buzz could only be heard by Tim, mostly due to the fact that the vibration itself took place inside of him.
Armie had used the device for two reasons;
One: Tim would have ordered the entire restaurant's stock of food.
Two: He wanted to see him deal with that feeling, that intensity, that extraordinary arousal whilst experiencing and handling something so simple, so normal, like ordering off a menu.
The waiter shuffled awkwardly on the spot as he watched Tim place both his palms over the surface of the table, as if he had something caught in his throat.
The waiter looked over at Armie, who Tim currently stared at with testing eyes.
Suddenly, Tim relaxed.
“… And that’s it,” he said, breathlessly.
The waiter took the menu away from Tim.
“A meal fit for a prince,” the waiter commented.
Tim smirked, tilting his head over to Armie.
“Well, it’s been a uh, a physically … demanding … few weeks. I thought while we’re here, man I’m just gonna make the most of it …”
The waiter smirked, nodding in understanding.
“Good for you,” he then turned his attention to Armie, who sat smiling at Tim, enjoying his ‘lees ability to still be so cocky this deep into The Agreement.
“I’ll have the steak,” he declared, “Medium rare. That’s all … I’ll have some of Timothée’s fries.”
The waiter took Armie’s menu and bowed his head in thanks, leaving them alone.
Tim waited a few seconds before whispering out his frustration.
“You gonna do that all night?” He hissed
Armie lifted his shoulders, taking a sip of his whiskey.
“He was clueless. You did great.”
Tim pinched the bridge of his nose whilst using his other hand to reach under the table, where he began to adjust his erection beneath the cling of his trousers.
“Is he clueless on everything else as well? Or do the restaurant know that we’re…”
Armie swallowed down his sip, flattening his mouth in satisfaction as the burn of alcohol hit the centre of his chest.
“They think this is my way of congratulating you, for being cast in Dune,” Armie frowned as he watched Tim struggle to position his erection in the right place, “Having a hard time over there?”
Tim winced, shooting a frustrated look at Armie.
“I can’t be any harder, even if I tried, that… Damn thing is pressing right against my… uh, my...pr-”
“—Your prostate,” Armie explained, “The part of your body that, when touched, will arouse you no matter how much you don’t want it to…” he chewed on some ice, placing his glass back down on the table, “… Don’t forget, kid, when it comes to you and me … You’re never in control.”
Tim blinked, sitting back in his seat.
He had asked this question once before, way back at the very start, over three and a half weeks ago…
In Armie’s kitchen, before The Agreement had even been written up, before the pen had landed on the dotted line.
Asking it now, after all that had taken place, made the question itself feel different in ways that Tim couldn’t describe.
After a beat of silence, Tim placed his hands in his lap, sitting forward in interest.
“You could’ve chosen anyone to do this with,” he said, “Why me?”
Armie looked down into his glass of whiskey, crossing his legs at the knee.
He purposefully left around ten seconds pass.
Just enough to make Tim squirm.
And then, as Tim was about to open his mouth to reshape his question, Armie answered.
“You’re wrong,” he announced, “I couldn’t have chosen anyone else to ‘do this’ with. Because …”
Armie took his whiskey to his lips, speaking over the glass as he looked at Tim.
“… There isn’t anyone else I’d do this with.”
Tim sat back quietly, his chair squeaking beneath him.
“There isn’t anyone else I’d pay ten million dollars for,” Armie continued, “There isn’t anyone else I’d allow to live in my apartment, anyone else I’d want to share my bed with …”
He took a sip of his drink and then calmly placed the glass down over the table.
“… There isn’t anyone else I’d want to test in the ways I’ve tested you. Because there isn’t anyone else quite like you, Tim. No one as physically sensitive, no one as open minded, no one who can provide the level of reactions you provide …”
Armie licked alcohol off of his lips as Tim stared at him intently, listening to every word with a dropped jaw and an unblinking gaze.
“… You’re special. You’re one of a kind. You’re not just lightning in a bottle, when it comes to stardom and acting capabilities, look or aesthetic. Exceptional talent like you will come and go through Hollywood as it has done for the past however many decades; Dean, DiCaprio, Chalamet …”
Tim looked down into his lap, his cheeks blushing so hard he could barely look Armie in the eye.
“… You’re lightning in a bottle when it comes to my world, too.”
Tim never really found himself speechless.
Even at times where he felt unsure on what to say, he could mumble or make noises or widen his jaw and flap his hands in an attempt to locate the words that would eventually form how he felt.
But here he sat, muted, Armie’s words stiffening his body.
Armie allowed Tim to feel stunned.
He did not expect a response.
He did not need one.
“So, in answer to your question … Why you?” Armie ran his index finger gently over the rim of his glass, “Because, it has to be you. It has always had to be you.”
Tim used his right palm to literally wipe away the shocked expression from his face.
He wanted to say,
‘All because I’m ticklish?’
‘Because you’ve got a thing for feet?’
But he knew that undermining Armie’s powerful explanation of how he felt would not only be disrespectful …
It would be borderline offensive.
Tim did not understand Armie’s tastes, his interests or his kinks, nor did he think that he himself could be worthy of such a pedestal.
But that did not mean he had to insult Armie’s feelings by belittling the foundations they were based on.
Instead, Tim chose to use his learnings in an attempt to connect with Armie in a way that suggested he might understand, one day in the future or if not sooner.
“It’s … more than tickling, right? More than a, a fetish … Seeing how I respond to the, the …”
Don’t say ‘shit’, Tim thought.
“… The situations you put me through,” he cleared his throat, “… It comes from more than just a sexual enjoyment, it’s, it’s —“
“—It’s an obsession,” Armie spoke with knowing confidence.
Tim shuffled in his seat, tucking some curls of brown behind his ears as that word landed on the dinner table …
A word that summed up Armie’s mind set; his reasoning for doing this, the past three weeks and everything that had happened in-between.
Obsession.
“It’s the reason John was willing to give you his life’s earnings,” Armie explained, “The reason he was willing to give up his fortune to have you, in the remaining moments he has on this planet. The very fact he wanted to fill those moments with his thirst for tickling goes to show how mighty it is. How, how strong a hold it has on him, on Miller … On … On people like me.”
The waiter returned momentarily, refilling glasses with water whilst also unintentionally providing a fifteen second break from such an intense conversation.
As the waiter turned and left, Tim asked his second enquiry of the evening without warning.
“Miller,” he picked up his wine and sat back in his seat, hooking his right heel over the edge of the chair, resting the glass over his kneecap, “What went on between you, in the past?”
Armie adjusted the collar to his shirt, blinking into his whiskey, sitting upward as he dealt with the explosion of memories Tim’s question had triggered.
Tim took a sip from his wine.
“You thought I was gonna let that go, didn’t you?” He said.
Armie chuckled nervously, his right hand reaching into his suit jacket pocket …
“No—“ Tim sprung forward, his hand reaching out over the table so quickly that he nearly knocked Armie’s whiskey out of his grasp, “—Leave the remote alone,” Tim spoke through clenched teeth, his fingers grasping Armie’s right wrist, “Now it’s your turn to trust m—“
Btzzzzzzzzzz …
—Tim squeezed his eyes shut, his waist jolting forwards, the vibration forcing him back into his seat where his back arched and his toes curled within the confines of his leather boots.
He gasped out a shuddered moan, “Damnit …” carefully placing his glass of wine down so as not to spill it with trembling hands.
He held onto the rim of his chair, his cock twitching, the butt plug buzzing slow and then fast, slow and then fast, slow and then fast.
“Some things are best left behind, kid,” Armie warned, “I’ll talk to you about it someday. But tonight is not the night …”
Tim nodded quickly, hair falling over his eyes as they began to water.
“Ss, s-top …” he managed through swollen lips, the muscle the butt plug vibrated against too sensitive for the device's buzz, “… Ser, seriously,” Tim said breathlessly, “I me, mean it …”
Armie’s eyes lit up.
“Oh! What perfect timing,” he smiled, “Our food is here…”
Two waiters arrived at the table as Armie took a casual sip from his drink, pressing the remote again, this time heightening the levels of vibration.
The table lifted suddenly, knocking over a glass of water as Tim’s knees bashed up against its underneath.
“Timmy!” Armie tutted dramatically, “You clumsy oaf …!”
He picked the glass up, catching some of the spill with a napkin, “… Sorry about that, gentleman, it’s all the fame and success, he gets very excited, he’s uh, he’s having trouble sitting still these days …”
Tim scowled at Armie, pressing his lips together, enduring the agonising pleasure mixed with an extreme discomfort of having his erection forcefully squashed so tightly within his trousers.
The waiters laid the table out with food, stepping back and bowing their heads where they then left Armie and Tim to enjoy their meal.
“Can’t you just,” Tim swallowed down, “Tu, turn it off so I can, so I can e, e, eat?”
Tim’s orgasm had now made its way into the shaft of his cock.
His spine had been filled with electricity, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention.
“Only if you promise to not bring Miller up again,” Armie kept one hand on the remote whilst his other stuck a fork into the centre of his steak, “Allow me to open up to you when I feel comfortable. And don’t ask again.”
Tim stood abruptly, the surface of the chair pressing into the butt plug worsening his ordeal.
“I promise!” He panted.
Armie laid the remote on the table, using both hands to cut into his steak where he sliced off a generous chunk.
Tim remained still, his angered stare willing Armie to switch off the vibrations.
Armie popped the chunk into his mouth.
“Mmm, this is delicious …”
Tim’s fists curled into balls.
“Ar, Armie …” he croaked.
As Armie chewed, he pressed his index finger over the remote's middle button.
Btzzz—!
Tim’s lips quivered, a ginormous sigh leaving his mouth in a frustrated shudder.
He sat back down carefully, wiping a tear away from his left eye.
He readjusted his arousal, this time so that its length sat to the right of his thigh in a long stretch, instead of bent up in his underwear.
Tim huffed, looking Armie in the eye as he took another large bite out of his steak.
“That’s not going to stop me asking you questions, you know …” Tim picked up his burger.
Armie went to hold back onto the remote.
Before Tim could open his mouth, he raised his voice in alarm.
“—NOT about Miller …” he allowed beef juice to slide down his right wrist, his main concern stopping Armie from pressing that button, “… Just questions. I’m, I’m only making conversation …”
Armie returned both hands to his knife and fork, gesturing to the waiter, who swiftly returned to his side.
“We’ll have the same again,” Armie decided.
The waiter nodded, leaving to retrieve another double whiskey and another large glass of white wine.
Armie reached over the table and picked a french fry out of the bowl beside Tim’s many plates of food.
“Ask away,” he said, popping the fry into his mouth.
Tim looked at his cheeseburger as if the burger itself was talking him into saying the words he currently held in his throat.
He raised his eyebrows, took in a breath and tightened his hold on the burger, some sauce drooping out from between the bun where it landed on the plate in a gathering puddle.
“What do I do?” He asked, “When … When this is over?”
Tim acknowledged how much he was clawing for Armie to just stand up and kneel beside him, place a comforting hand on his thigh, reassure him that everything would be okay…
That he was loved instead of lusted over.
Tim had not felt protected or intimately valued since they had spent all day in bed.
He had noticed that Armie had stepped away from showcasing his own vulnerabilities, deciding to swap pizza take outs and gentle kisses on the back of the neck with Trials, upside down bondage and the torment and tease that came along with the little plastic plug sitting inside of him.
The pearl choker currently snug around his neck, the credit card in his pouch, the candlelit meal and the hired out restaurant …
It would appear, in Tim’s eyes, Armie thought all of those things said ‘I care for you’, when in actuality they only said ‘well done’.
Armie cut up another slice of steak, pausing before throwing it into his mouth.
“You’ll have ten million dollars, Tim,” he popped the piece into his mouth, chewing down and swallowing before he continued speaking, “Money like that? Well, I guess you can do whatever you like …”
Tim felt his stomach drop..
Armie picked up another french fry.
“Your burger’s getting cold,” he said.
Tim stared into the patty.
Suddenly he took one, two, three large bites out of his burger, one after the other, filling his cheeks with the tang of cheese, the satisfaction of meat, the hit of sauce.
He chomped away, staring at his plate, dealing with the thoughts in his head whilst allowing the taste of the burger to fill him with a form of peace he currently lacked during this ‘date’.
Armie wiped his mouth with a napkin.
Enough, he thought.
He shed his cold exterior and decided to put himself on the line.
Tim was more than a friend, more than a play thing, more than an obsession.
Deep down, in his very core, he knew that to be true.
So deal with it.
Stop being short, stop holding back, stop being dismissive.
Armie reached his right hand slowly across the table, where his fingertips pressed against Tim’s left wrist.
Tim’s focused glare into his plate broke by such a gentle touch.
He looked at Armie, who smiled at him with an expression that said, ‘I’m only going to say this once’.
“When The Agreement ends, I’d like to see more of you, Tim.”
Tim chewed and chewed, his eyes shifting from left to right.
“You wug?” He asked, mouth still very full.
Armie chuckled.
“I would. In bondage … But … Mostly out of it. Is that something you’d like too?”
Tim swallowed down, the weight of the burger relieving his hunger immediately.
He knew he’d have to work on the ‘in bondage’ part, but for now Armie’s reassurance was all he needed.
“Yeah,” Tim licked salt off his lips, planting his burger down on the plate, “It is.”
Armie’s fingertips slid away from Tim’s wrist.
He returned to his steak, whilst Tim picked up a french fry and popped it into his mouth with a grin.
Over the next ten to fifteen minutes, the cheese burger, the steak, the breaded chicken, the garlic mushrooms, the fries, the wine and the whiskey were all inhaled.
The candle in the middle of the table had decreased from tall standing to melted somewhere past the middle, its flame still burning strong.
As the waiter arrived at the table with a bottle of Merlot and two glasses, Armie sat back in a relaxed position, allowing the waiter to open the bottle and pour out the wine.
Tim hid a burp with the back of his hand as Armie sat forwards, folding his arms over the table's now grease-stained surface.
“Alright,” Armie announced, “You’ve asked a lot of questions tonight. Now it’s my turn.”
Tim picked up his glass of wine, flashing his eyebrows upward before taking a sip.
“Ask away,” he said with a wince, mirroring Armie’s own words from earlier as the acidity of the wine slid down his throat.
Armie reached into his suit jacket pocket and held out the remote.
Tim rolled his eyes, taking a larger sip from his drink.
“Asking questions ‘Armie style’…?” Tim enquired.
Armie’s bright white smile spread across his face as he sat back in his chair like a king, remote in one hand, glass of wine in the other.
“I’m going to ask you quick fire questions, and you must answer honestly and truthfully in less than five seconds. Understood?”
Tim nodded confidently.
“Understood.”
He rested his elbows over the table and entwined his fingers together, staring Armie in the eye.
Another beat of silence, another flicker of candlelight, another giddy amount of buzz forming in both of their heads from the generous amounts of food and alcohol consumed since they arrived.
“What do you want to do once The Agreement is over?” Armie asked.
Tim blinked.
He had not expected Armie to throw a question he had asked himself only half an hour ago.
A question he did not know the answer to.
5 … 4 … 3 …
“Uh, I, I, I wanna still see you!”
Tim rushed his response, finishing just before the final second.
Armie smirked.
“Interesting … ” he kept his thumb over the remote as he delivered his next question suddenly, speaking quickly.
“What has been your favourite part of the past four weeks?”
Tim clenched his jaw, his eyes widening.
Say the first thing that comes into your head, thought Tim.
4 … 3… 2
He answered in one breath, his eyes shifting towards the remote in panic.
“Getting to spend so much time with my best friend!”
Armie tilted his head, a second to spare.
“Cute,” he said.
He then cleared his throat, “What has been the most intense session?”
Tim didn’t hesitate in delivering his answer, “Yesterday,” his voice was filled with determination, “You shaving my pits, the worst tickling of my life.”
Armie held up his hand, “—Damn. Just hearing you say that is so, so hot …”
Tim dropped his shoulders, sighing into his wine.
“This is harder than I tho–”
“--How was your burger?” Armie asked.
“Uh, de, delicious,” Tim answered.
“Are you drunk?” Armie asked.
“A little?” Tim shrugged.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do with the money?” Armie asked.
“Pay back my Mom,” Tim answered.
“Do you want an Oscar?” Armie asked.
“No,” Tim answered.
“Where do you want to be tickled next?” Armie asked.
Tim covered his face with his hands.
5 …4 … 3…
“My elbows!” He laughed into his palms, struggling to locate an area of his body that was not ticklish.
“Why do you want to know more about Miller and I?” Armie asked.
Tim paused, his hands sliding off of his face.
He opened his mouth, searching the dinner table for an explanation.
“Uh, I’m, I’m curious about, about you, I wanna learn more, the, the reason you’re like the way you—“
Btzzzzzzzzzz!
Tim’s entire body jerked so quickly that wine jolted out of his glass.
“Fu, f-fuck,” he shuddered.
“—Too late on that one,” Armie decided, his thumb pressing down over the remote.
Tim’s face squashed up as he struggled to endure the intensity down below.
Click!
Tim’s weight dropped.
Before he had a moment to wipe sweat away from his upper lip, Armie asked his next question.
“Out of all of your movie roles so far, which one is your favourite?”
Tim closed his left eye in thought.
“Elio.”
Armie pursed his lips, “Are you just saying that?”
Tim shook his head.
“No, I, I loved playing Elio. That role changed my life.”
Tim provided his response with sincerity and belief in his voice, so much so that Armie felt comfortable leaving the answer where it was.
“Where are you most ticklish?” Armie asked.
“My armpits,” Tim answered quickly.
“Where are you really most ticklish?” Armie pressed.
Tim chuckled.
“My feet.”
Armie’s thumb hovered over the remotes button.
“Do you love me?” He asked.
Tim tilted his head.
“… No.”
The waiter returned to the table with hands placed neatly behind his back.
“How is everything, gentlemen? Are you enjoying the wine?”
Armie placed the remote back inside his suit jacket, his eyes never leaving Tim’s.
Tim sat back quietly, sure in some parts of his answer, uncertain in others.
“I think it’s time we got the check,” Armie said, with a smile.
***
The first half of the journey back to Armie’s apartment consisted of heavy rainfall landing over the cars windows whilst both Armie and Tim sat opposite each other in silence.
The rub and squeak from the windscreen wipers did little to fill the awkward vibe resting between both passengers.
Around three quarters into the ride, to Tim’s surprise, Armie moved over and sat himself down next to him.
Tim turned to Armie, his eyes landing at his jaw where they then trailed up to read his lips.
“Brace yourself.”
Tim curled his fingers around the edges of the leather seating, ready for another relentless buzz.
Instead, Armie kissed Tim.
The kiss felt like a whisper at first: lips brushing over lips, the scent of wine invading Tim’s nose as Armie’s mouth pressed softly against his.
Tim widened his jaw slowly, his tongue curling out, his eyelids falling shut.
Armie teased Tim for longer than he needed to, making him wait for the affection.
Finally, Armie took Tim’s mouth fully in his, the kiss progressing into a gentle, intimate embrace, an embrace that said and asked hundreds of unsaid things such as;
Thank you.
I want you.
Are you sure you don’t love me?
Armie and Tim kissed quietly in the back of the Rolls-Royce for the remainder of the journey, their lips parting as soon as the car rolled up outside Armie’s building.
Once back inside the apartment, door keys were thrown to the floor and shoes were kicked off.
Tim spun around, standing on tiptoes, ready to kiss Armie with stronger force …
However, like many other times this evening, Armie’s index finger landed on Tim’s mouth.
Armie curled his hand around Tim’s and led him upstairs, towards his bedroom.
He flicked the switch to the hallway light and then opened his bedroom door, keeping the bedroom light off.
The door creaked open, the hallway light shining over a black, leather straitjacket laid neatly out over Armie’s bed.
Tim stepped into Armie’s bedroom quietly, his hand leaving Armie’s.
Tonight he had been instructed to dress in his most freeing way; expressional and limitless.
However, it seemed the evening would end with him wearing something the total opposite; restrictive and inescapable.
As if reading his mind, Armie began to list out words describing the object displayed out over the crisp white bed sheets.
“Confining …”
Tim slid his fingertips over the buckles.
“Shackled …”
He lifted the leather sleeves of the long, lifeless arms.
“... Expertly made and measured, for your body only.”
Tim turned to face Armie.
“If this is because I said I didn’t love you …” he gulped down anxiety, “… What I meant was - no, I don’t love you like … Like that … Yet … I, I love you as a friend, of course, but I—“
“—Stop speaking,” Armie ordered.
Tim closed his mouth.
Armie began to unbutton his suit jacket, “Strip down to your underwear.”
Tim swallowed, taking a step back as Armie began to move deeper into the darkness of the bedroom, a bedroom only partially lit from the stretch of light on the other side of the door.
Armie took the remote out of his jacket as he threw it onto the carpet.
This far in, Tim knew that when Armie had his mind set on something, there would be no point trying to change it.
With that considered, Tim began to pull off his boots.
He peeled off socks.
He unbuttoned his trousers, pulling them down to his ankles, his erection snug in his briefs.
As Tim undressed, Armie removed his clothing also, soon standing entirely naked before Tim, his muscular frame outlined by the glow of the hallway light.
Armie walked towards the straitjacket, his hard cock bobbing from side to side with every step.
Tim dropped his sheer top over the rest of his clothes, folding his arms across his chest, now standing in Armie’s bedroom in just his underwear as requested.
“Hands by your side,” Armie lifted the straitjacket up to Tim’s front, “And remember what I said … Brace yourself …”
Tim dropped his hands to his sides, wishing his voice didn’t sound so drenched in concern.
“Wait …” he bit his lower lip as Armie started to attach each straitjacket arm to Tim, “… Is this it? Is this your, your most intense fantasy?”
Armie shook his head, crossing Tim’s arms across his torso, binding the jacket into place, walking behind him where he began to tighten the straps and buckles.
Tim stood wrapped in the straitjacket, his bare feet planted a metre or two apart, a few grunts leaving his mouth as he tried to wriggle out of it.
“What, what, what are you—“
“—I made the rules of the challenge very clear, Tim,” Armie knelt down in front of Tim’s underwear, “You’d only experience my most intense fantasy if you can last the evening without having an orgasm.”
Armie grabbed the waistband of Tim’s briefs and yanked them down to his kneecaps.
Tim took in a sharp breath through his teeth, his erection springing free.
Armie pulled the underwear down to Tim’s ankles, where he then took each of Tim’s feet and lifted them out of his briefs.
He then positioned his head under the tip of Tim’s cock, speaking into the fleshy bulb in a whisper, his blue eyes looking up at Tim.
“So, in answer to your question …” he said, “… This isn’t my most intense fantasy. This is where I make you lose.”
Armie pushed Tim forcefully onto the bed, where he landed on his back with a bounce.
“Oof!”
Tim’s legs spread out in a manic kick as he tried to force himself back up.
Armie stood, his eyes catching a glimpse of the butt plug still sitting inside Tim.
The creak of leather persisted as Tim struggled over the mattress, his feet jolting out in an attempt to throw his weight back forward.
Armie grabbed at Tim’s ankles, successfully gathering them together in a tight armlock.
He then turned his back to Tim, facing the open door and the brightly lit hallway a few feet opposite.
Both of Tim’s bare feet now poked out from Armie’s underarm.
“No, wait, Armie, hol, hold up, I …”
Tim tried to shuffle himself closer towards the edge of the bed, his goal to reposition his body.
“… Damnit,” he huffed, fully aware of the butt plug pressing deeper into him the more he sat over it.
Armie pressed the remote.
Click!
Btzzzzzzzzzzz …
Tim threw his head back, his eyes bulging out into a maddened stare that shot through the nighttime.
His erection stiffened over the bottom of the straitjacket, its fleshy strength rubbing over leather.
And then came the tickling.
The fingers of Armie’s left hand began to dance and scratch over the soles of Tim’s feet, starting at his heels and then working their way sporadically up to his toes.
Tim’s body exploded into a violent thrash, both of his feet tickled mercilessly at the same time with a strength from Armie that he had not felt before.
His fingernails dug into Tim’s soles, scraping across the silky smooth expanse of skin that made up the bottoms of Tim’s feet, his invasion relentless and enthusiastic, determined and unapologetic.
Usually, Armie’s goal was to send Tim into oblivion, but tonight he was on a different mission.
Armie kept a tight hold on Tim’s ankles, his own body trying its hardest to remain still as he dealt with Tim’s fierce kicking.
Tim could only muster a breathless, “... Please … ” his mind too overwhelmed by the ticklish sensation, as well as sensory overload taking place two plump ass cheeks.
With his feet tickled in such a way, Tim had no choice but to squirm and writhe, leap and buck, his body lifting off the mattress in a sudden jump only to land over the bedsheets in a heavy bounce, the impact nudging the butt plug against his prostate.
“Oh, oh, oh fuck—“ Tim cried, his eyes squeezed shut, his head shaking from left to right in a manic twist, “— Oh, oh fuck!”
It’s only a matter of time, Armie thought.
Knowing how this was always going to play out, Armie hooked his chin over Tim’s flexing toes in an attempt to hold Tim’s feet still.
He pressed his jaw down, tightened the armlock, and increased pressure on the tickling.
Tim tried to move his feet but they were stuck, his soles now squashed beside each other in some kind of makeshift clamp created by Armie’s armlock and head, exposed and on display from ball to heel, their ticklishness entirely Armie’s to devour.
Armie’s fingernails travelled at a rapid speed, consuming the full delicacy with no questions asked, no mercy given, no break provided.
Tim howled into the darkness, his reaction a mixture between panic and alarm, hysterical laughter and gut-wrenching pleasure.
The more he kicked and bounced, the more the butt plug pressed against his prostate on each impact …
The harder his erection grew,
The closer he got to orgasm …
“Nnn, no,” Tim managed, sucking up dribble, “Come on, I, I can’t take it,” he begged.
Armie kept his chin hooked over Tim’s toes, pressing the remote for a second time.
Bzzzzzz-ZZZZZZZTTTTTT!
Tim heaved out despair, providing three of his strongest kicks yet.
Armie stumbled back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, keeping Tim in his grasp.
“You can’t take what, Tim? The tickling, or the fact that you’re your own worst enemy?”
Tim twisted in his straitjacket, his curls of hair now covering his face.
“BOTH!” He yelled, jolting up and then landing down, jolting up and then landing down, jolting up and then landing down …
Each time, the butt plug once again nudged against his prostate with each land.
Armie could hear Tim’s orgasm start to leave his body.
As soon as he acknowledged the tremble in his begging, Armie decided to continue to tickle Tim until every ounce of come had made its way out of him.
“… Pl, please, please, p, please,” Tim took in a breath, “St,stop, stop, st, stop,” he exhaled in a hoarse moan, “I’m, I’m, I’m gonna, I’m gonna …” he pressed his lips together, resisting in verbalising the outcome of his ordeal, “... Nnn, no, I can’t, I won’t …” he muttered.
Armie lifted his chin away from Tim’s toes, allowing the boy to squirm his feet around each other as Armie continued to infiltrate the smoothness of his soles.
“… Go on, Timmy. Let it all out …”
Tim began to pant.
He peered over the chest of his straitjacket, his eyebrows lifting in disbelief as he looked down at his erection.
He felt the ache roll through his body, into his stomach, around the butt plug itself …
Armie let Tim’s feet go.
They fell to the carpet with a thud, a staggered gasp leaving Tim’s mouth as his back fell against the mattress.
His cock twitched, his balls ached, the orgasm peaked around the middle of his shaft.
He could feel his prostate throb around the butt plug still vibrating in what felt like the very centre of his physical being.
A tear left his cheek as he stared into the ceiling, willing himself to cum because he wanted to feel the bliss so badly, whilst also urging it back down into the pits of his arousal so that he did not fail, so that he would not have to endure Armie’s most intense fantasy.
Tim began to giggle, his mind lost in this sudden session, this moment of tranquillity mixed with terror.
He had succeeded.
The pleasure retracted, he had survived Armie’s tickling, the bouncing around, the press of the butt plug without exploding like Armie had planned.
But it was far from over.
Armie left Tim and took a confident stride to his walk in wardrobe, an area Tim knew contained dozens of tickle tools and edging equipment.
Tim did not dare sit up.
If he did, the butt plug would nudge against his prostate; He felt like he could erupt right there.
So he lifted his head, facing a wardrobe Armie had now disappeared inside of.
He breathed fiercely through his nostrils, his entire body tingling from head to toe, his cock still fully erect, producing droplets of pre second by second.
“Jesus,” Tim sniffed, “Fuck, Jesus, fuck …”
Armie returned with an open bottle of baby oil and two electric toothbrushes.
Tim’s eyes widened.
“What, wait, no –”
Tim began to kick his feet, his toes sliding across the carpet, his body from the waist up still laid over the bed.
He tried to squirm away but Armie landed in the kneeling position between Tim’s thighs too quickly.
He shuffled close towards Tim’s cock, his broad shoulders working as a block between Tim’s legs, stopping him from closing them or moving them at all.
Armie had the perfect view.
Tim sat on the very edge of the bed, his legs spread, his balls and cock inches away from Armie’s face.
The butt plug still persisting in its buzz, its shimmering black shape staring Armie right in the eye.
Tim’s straitjacket bound torso lay on its back, his head peering over a chest full of buckles and straps, his eyes bulging out in concern as he tried to take in Armie’s movements, tried to compartmentalise his circumstance.
Don’t come.
Fuck, I wanna come.
You can’t…
Stop him!
Please.
Man I want this.
Tim bit his lower lip as baby oil landed all over his cock.
It drenched its length, soaking his balls, staining the bedsheets.
“Nn, no, fuck,” Tim shot an alarmed look from left to right.
Btttttzzzzz!
Btztttzzzzzz!
Armie switched on both electric toothbrushes.
As if they were magic wands, he held them with both hands and began to gather Tim’s orgasm back to the base of his erection by gliding the toothbrushes up and down his baby oil covered shaft.
Tim threw his head back over the mattress repeatedly in an insanity riddled bounce.
“Gragghhhh!”
His toes curled, his legs stretched out, the space between his thighs occupied by Armie.
Three vibrations at once; the electric toothbrushes and the butt plug, filling the bedroom with a steady, tormenting buzz.
As the rain fell harder outside, Tim threw his head forward, offering Armie a bloodthirsty glare.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” He grinned, his eyes enlarging into two white balls of ferocity as his orgasm began to return to the pit of his stomach, “You’re gonna make it happen, aren’t you, you bastard!”
Armie licked his lips, his focus strategic, practised and dedicated.
“I always win,” he whispered, sweat forming over his upper lip, “You’re mine, kid. Every inch of you.”
Tim growled as Armie positioned one electric toothbrush over the base of his cock whilst the other ran up and down its length slowly and surely, Tim’s arousal now at its stiffest it had ever been.
“St, st,” Tim had now fixed his eyes on the toothbrushes, their startled gaze jumping from one toothbrush to the other, “Don’t, don’t do it, don’t … Do, do, do …”
Armie ran one electric toothbrush over the tip of Tim’s cock, enjoying Tim’s reaction, which came in a violent jolt, the straitjacket containing arms that wanted to reach out and punch Armie away.
“You want it, Tim. I know it leads to something you’re trying to avoid …” Armie sent the second toothbrush around Tim’s taint, the butt plug below continuing with its vibrate, “But wouldn’t it be amazing to just let it go? I can see you’re close …”
Tim’s giggles became high pitched and lengthy, the more the bristles of the electric toothbrush running over his taint journeyed over such a silky, hairless expanse of sensitive flesh.
“I can, I can’t, I mean, I shouldn’t–”
Armie watched the tip of Tim’s cock swell in a suggestive shine.
“It’s happening, Tim …”
Btzzzzzzz!
Btzzzzzzzzzz!
Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!
“Nnn, no!” Tim cried, when really he meant ‘Yes! Yes!’
Click!
BTZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!
Armie pressed the remote for a third and final time.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Tim felt overwhelmed by just how quickly the euphoria began its exit, “Oh ffffff—“
His entire face burned red as his orgasm shot out of his body, no longer able to remain contained thanks to the constant vibrations around the length of his erection …
Armie smiled in success, persisting with the toothbrushes implementation, their whizzing ends still travelling over Tim’s cock as it spewed out come, the spray drenching Armie’s face, his neck and shoulders.
Tim’s throat caught any air wanting to leave his body.
He did not blink, his blurred focus facing a ceiling filled with darkness.
And then the orgasm faded, allowing Tim to heave out a warm gathering of breath, his voice groaning out the word ‘man’ in one lengthy, exhausted wail.
“.... Maaaaa-aaaaahhhhhhh-aaahhhhhhhhhnnnnnnn …”
As droplets of white continued to seep out of Tim, Armie switched off both electric toothbrushes.
He then clicked the remote, the butt plug vibrating quietly from setting three, to setting two, to setting one …
… Click!
Armie got to his feet and stood away from Tim, allowing Tim’s thighs to fall into each other.
Armie allowed Tim a few seconds to moan and cough, catch his breath and most importantly - begin to believe the session had ended.
He then dropped back to his knees, invading the space between Tim’s thighs once again.
Tim threw his head over his chest, curls of hair blinding him.
“Wait, nnn, nn—”
–Armie then grabbed hold of Tim’s cock and began to rub its tip with his thumb.
Tim propelled his torso forwards, a fierce expression saturating his face, his voice broken, deep and loud.
“NO—“ He howled, “NO, NO, NO—!”
Armie ignored Tim’s cries, the rub increasing in pressure, the hyper sensitive area of Tim’s cock pushed to its absolute limits.
Tim wanted this torture to stop so much that he tried to force his foot over Armie’s chest, but Armie had wormed his way too far in between Tim’s legs.
Tim used all of his body strength to peel his upper body away from the mattress, leaning forwards, his forehead pressing against Armie’s.
Armie knelt calm and naked, free and in control, his thumb still gliding over the tip of Tim’s cock.
Tim sat restrained in something made to contain madness, his curls of hair wet with sweat, his face scrunched up in agony, a line of drool leaving his mouth where it hung slowly over the very hand actioning such torment.
“Ple-ease,” Tim said, through gritted teeth, “You won, you won, you—”
—Armie let go of Tim’s erection.
Tim’s body rolled forwards, his entire body falling into Armie in a shambled heap.
Armie caught him in his arms, carefully laying him down on his back, over the carpet.
Armie cupped Tim’s jaw with a palm soaked in Tim’s orgasm.
“You’re a, a, a,” Tim breathed as if he had just ran five miles non stop, “A head fuck …”
Armie kissed Tim’s forehead.
“I am …” Armie confirmed, almost too aware of his behaviour.
Tim growled in frustration, pulling at the straitjacket, his arms and upper body still tightly contained.
“You, you tell me I look incredible,” Tim sniffed, “And then you pin my hands behind my back. You take me out for this, this amazing dinner and, and you spend all night fucking with me and that remote …” he coughed into leather, his heels sliding over the carpet as he tried to push himself back to his feet, “… You act like you acted in the car, and then you shove me in this, this damn thing … It’s the—“
“—It’s the perfect balance,” Armie concluded, landing another soft kiss over Tim’s lips.
Tim huffed, his face tinted with a thin layer of perspiration.
“Why do I feel like I’ve just fucked up?” Tim asked.
“You haven’t fucked up,” Armie reassured, “You’ve just opened the gateway, kid,” he spoke into Tim’s curls, hunched over him, surrounded by the hallway light beaming in through the door, “And we’re stepping in tomorrow…”
Tim closed his eyes, “Your … Your most in, intense fan, fan, fan …”
Armie smirked.
He can barely speak, he thought.
“Yes,” Armie helped Tim back onto the edge of the bed, “My most intense fantasy.”
Tim adjusted his shoulders and arms, his upper body still confined within the leather of the straitjacket.
“Can you at least tell me what it is, before we start?”
Armie knew Tim would not be able to sleep, if he did not give some details.
He sat beside Tim and then whispered the fantasy into his ear, explaining the requirements, the set up, the rules and the bondage in a faint murmur, all whilst reaching carefully between Tim’s thighs where he gathered the end of the butt plug in his fingertips.
Tim stared at the doorway as he listened, his mouth falling open, a gentle “Mnn …” leaving his lips as the butt plug began its slide from out of him.
Tim endured the muttered information, all whilst coping with the feeling of the device being pulled from such a sensitive area.
With eyes open, as the butt plug left Tim entirely, Tim could only say two words after hearing Armie’s description:
“Holy … shit.”
TCTLR concludes in Chapter Thirty Four - ‘My Turn’ …