Robert planted himself down over the lakes edge, his chest pressing against damp sand and smooth pebbles, the exterior of his agile frame outlined by tall lengths of grass.
Laying on his front, he expertly and carefully positioned his Canon camera against his face, squeezing his right eye shut as his left eye peered through the lens.
“Aaaaabsolutely beautiful,” he whispered, in his strong Australian accent.
On the other side of the lake a giant crocodile approached the water, unaware that Robert’s camera had been angled directly towards its long scaly snout.
Click! Click! Click!
Robert took several photos all at once, capturing the moment the crocodile slid into the lakes edge where it then disappeared into the murky depths, its thick curling tale making a gentle splash shortly before becoming fully consumed by the water.
Just when Robert felt ready to get to his feet, he felt a gentle weight on top of the camera that caused the device to drop down a few inches.
Ssssss … Ssssss …
Robert had been raised on the grounds of a zoo, and since his father’s death he had professionally dedicated himself to all kinds of wildlife since he was a young boy - no animal scared him, no matter their shape, size or current slithery-ness …
Robert peered over his camera and grinned happily at a small snake that had decided to mount the circular base of the lens.
“Hallo little fella!” Robert kept his camera in position with one hand whilst using his other to dig into his shorts pocket for his iPhone.
The snake peered into the distance, its black tongue peeping out every so often as it seemingly wondered how to get back to the ground after climbing over a human too invested in the beauty of a croc taking an afternoon dip.
Robert used his iPhone to document the moment, where he would share the video on his Instagram once he was back home.
“Look who’s come to join me, guys!” Robert gestured to the snake curling around his Canon, now taking some of his wrist with it, “This is a golden crowned snake, he’s a pretty chill lookin’ dude and will hang out with you for as long he wants, you just gotta be nice to him!”
Ssss … Ssssss …
“Everyone needs a camera assistant, huh?” Robert chuckled, placing his iPhone back into his shorts pocket, whilst laying the lens of his camera against the surface of the sand.
Robert waved the snake goodbye as it slithered off the camera and made its way into the water.
Robert stood back up and dusted off his thighs and shins - camera in hand, he turned back into the rainforest and continued his walk, hopping over fallen tree trunks and leaping across ankle high puddles, his big walking boots and white grey tube socks keeping his feet dry.
He stopped on the way to take more photos of the rainforests habitants, from squawking tropical birds perching in trees above through to nibbling possums chewing nearby on tasty insect’s …
Robert had grown used to the many beasts and critters of one of Australia’s largest rainforests, however he felt surprised to stumble across something a little more unexpected.
A long waist high fence with a sign reading ‘do not trespass, private property’ clipped to the front blocked off a steep hill leading into darker greenery than previously explored.
Robert’s eyebrows flattened into a straight line - he stood on tip toes and peered over the gate, searching into the many bushes, vines and surrounding mist that blanketed an area he himself should be aware of - after all he was an official member of The Rainforest Alliance and a passionate member of The Rainforest Trust, both organisations that had archived and detailed maps of the very rainforest Robert stood in, a rainforest that had many out of bounds zones, however this was one Robert did not recognise …
Forever curious, always ballsy and exceptionally unafraid, Robert hooked his heel over the top of the fence and with his youthful, athletic vigour, simply climbed up and over with only a determined grunt leaving his lips, the muddy soles of his walking boots landing on the ground opposite.
Carefully, he began to pace down the hill, camera in one hand, his other hand out to the side in an attempt to balance himself out.
Bugs whizzed past his neck and zipped into his legs, “Ah!” He gasped and smacked those nipping into his flesh with his palm, “You’re a feisty one!”
The deeper Robert submerged himself into what appeared to now be a mysterious valley, the wetter things became … soon hard dirt became mud and within a few minutes, mud became sludge.
At the bottom of the valley, Robert arrived to a wall of grass at least twice his height.
He pierced the wall with his fingertips and pulled the grass apart as if he were greeting the morning sun by yanking open the curtains to his bedroom window.
He then walked through the grass, narrowing his eyes in focus, taking wide and large footsteps, careful not to step on any sleeping predators, ankle biters or ready and waiting hunters, the latter likely to have fangs …
Once out the other side, Robert’s mouth fell open.
“Whaaaaat a beauty!—“, Robert took his camera and aimed it upward, towards a giant, ancient rainforest tomb towering around thirty feet above, on the other side of the valley depths.
Click! Click! Click!
He approached the tomb with speedy enthusiasm, his jaw still by his chest, his eyes wide open behind the lens as his camera took pictures of the stone pillars, moss covered staircases and crumbling outside walls, which were mostly covered in climbing plants and out of control foliage.
Crunch—
Suddenly, the invasive sound of weight not his pressing over something light caused Robert to pull his attention away from the tomb, where he shot a concerned look out into the misty rolls of humidity circling him.
The squeal of colourful birds gathering into a group above was the only sound outside the tomb as Robert paused entirely, his body stiff as the god-like statues that held up the tombs roof.
Robert smirked and shrugged of the interruption - he placed the camera by his face once again and returned his focus to the tomb, taking one step closer with his right foot …
SNAP!
Suddenly, Robert was thrown off his feet —
“—Whoa!—“
Before his head could even graze the floor, the weight of his body was flung into an upside down position thanks to the thick length of rope that caught hold of his left ankle, hurtling him up into the heights of the tree branches above.
Roberts cry was filled with alarm, “—Jeezas christ!—”, he felt the blood rush to his head as he bobbed in a long line, his hands losing hold of the camera, which fell against some rocks, the lens breaking in two, “—Ahhh shit!—“
With the landscape of the valley, tomb and surrounding rainforest turning topsy turvey thanks to his upturned dangle, Robert could only await a reason for his circumstance as his right leg kicked and flayed, his left unable to bend at the knee due to how snug the rope had been looped around his ankle.
His arms hung above his head as he swayed from side to side, his fingertips around four feet away from the ground.
“Strewth!” Robert cursed as he reached into his pockets, successfully retrieving his iPhone, “Ahh blaady hell!—“, he spat, his signal non existent thanks to his choice to explore such a disconnected area.
Crunch—
Robert kept hold of his iPhone as he swung from left to right, “Who goes there?” His vision began to blur, the longer he continued to hang upside down, “Come on, lemme down, alright?”
Through the warmth of the fog appeared a tall cloaked figure wearing a tribal mask.
“Oh bloody ‘eck!—“, Robert began to panic as the figure started to walk slowly towards him, “—Oh, okay, I’m sorry for trespassing, I won’t do it again, I mean it!—“
The mask was made of pale ceramic, with dozens of black and purple coloured feathers sprouting from its rim …
… Two peacock feathers took the form of horns, their quills wedged behind a gold embroidered slab of material that made up the top half of the face …
“Oi, buggar off!—“ Robert tried to smack the figure away, but they paused a metre or so opposite Robert, cupping their palms around the mouth of the mask.
“… You have broken the rules …” the figure whispered, “… Therefore, you must be punished …”
Robert flinched as the figure blew glittered dust into his face.
“Pfft! Pfft! Wait, ah, ah—”, he shook his head and sneezed into the air, “—ah choo!—“, his body twirling in its dangle as everything he had ever known started to feel softer, gentler, almost completely numb …
The figure watched Robert lose consciousness, the animated jolt from his sneeze suddenly transforming into a weighty hang as his body lost the ability to move, the young explorers last words before falling asleep being, “… What the heck …”
Robert woke up on a large cushioned couch.
“Mnn …”
He smacked together his lips and licked away a dry sensation inside his mouth.
He peeled himself away from his slumber and sat on the couches edge, pinching the bridge of his nose as he began to familiarise himself with a confusing yet highly daunting reality.
First off - he wasn’t wearing the clothes he had dressed himself in this morning …
He frowned, pinching a grey ‘Australia Zoo’ t-shirt with his index finger and thumb, his other hand taking hold of the waist band of his boxer shorts.
He stood quickly, his feet still socked and booted, despite his shirt and trousers being removed.
Worried thoughts raced through his mind at such a speed that they caused his throat to thicken.
Second by second, a strange sense of relief calmed him down when he realised he stood on varnished floorboards, surrounding by floor to ceiling windows looking out over the top of the Daintree Rainforest.
He sniffed up the scent of cinnamon and coffee, he glanced down at a blanket on the floor that he had unknowingly kicked off himself whilst he lay sleeping - his knees felt giddy at the thought of being so high up, in what appeared to be some kind of luxury tree house …
“I’ve never known someone to sleep so heavily,” a voice from behind declared, “You were only meant to be out for a few hours. It’s been a full day …”
Robert spun to face his captor.
Opposite Robert stood a familiar masked figure, this time minus the cloak - he now stood in black trousers and an open blazer, his impressive torso on show.
“You’re the one who—”, Robert gulped down a frog in his throat, “—Where am I? What do you want?” He grabbed the unwanted t-shirt clinging to his upper body by its hem and yanked on it once, “Where’s my stuff? My phone, my—”
“—You’re chatty—”, the masked figure removed his mask, the feathers sprouting from it rustling as he did so, “I like them vocal …” he revealed a handsome face, short head of hair, light stubble across the jaw, “… My name is Maxwell. Welcome to my holiday home …”
Robert felt slightly comforted by the ordinary look of the thirty something year old opposite him - however his confusion and need to leave did not decrease.
“Okay, g’day, mate—” Robert nodded at Maxwell once, “I’m gonna be off, if that’s alright with you …” he held his hands up in surrender, his mind coming to terms with the fact that he may of been kidnapped by some kind of obsessive fan, “You can keep the phone, my uniform, the camera, just point to the way out, alright?”
Maxwell chuckled and placed his mask down over the surface of the kitchen table, the modern interior of the one level, low ceiling, open plan home working as his lavish background whilst he began to slowly approach Robert.
“I don’t care for any of that,” Maxwell watched Robert back away carefully, “I’ve bought you here to make you a deal,” Maxwell simply followed, until Robert’s shoulders pressed up against glass.
“Sure,” Robert placed his palms agains the window, “I, I can do a deal …”
Maxwell stood inches opposite Robert, his breath presenting a slight whiff of whiskey.
“Compliant and obliging …” Maxwell spoke in a thick American accent, “… Not your usual Aussie boy …”
Robert blushed nervously, Maxwell’s height a little taller than his own.
“What’s the deal then, mate … What can I do for you?” Robert spoke with urgency, keen to leave the place he had been taken to against his will sooner rather than later.
Maxwell stepped away from Robert and then pointed down the hall.
“Head to the room at the end, on the right hand side …” Maxwell was an expert, he knew that if he led the way there would be a chance Robert, from behind, would either try to whack him over the end with one of the many tribal Australian artefacts on display in the home, or he would make a run for it, “… I will follow …”
Robert reluctantly headed to where Maxwell pointed, the presence of his captor hovering over his shoulders as he took cautious steps towards the room.
“I’m not a pervert, you know …” Maxwell explained casually, “… I only removed your uniform because, by the time i had dragged you up here, your clothes were soaked in your own sweat, as well as mine …” Robert blinked calmly as he listened to Maxwell talk into his back, “… The t-shirt you’re wearing is my brothers. He always loved this part of the world, especially the Australia Zoo …” Robert had no choice but to pause in his tracks when Maxwell ordered him to, by bluntly saying the word, “… Stop.”
Robert stood by an open door that led into a large spare empty room.
His observant gaze trailed up the pinewood, inwardly slanted walls, towards the gable shaped roof and over to the giant triangular window that looked out over the rest of the property, as well as the tree tops of the surrounding rainforest on the other side of the glass, now victim to the gentle patter of wet weather.
His blue eyes squinted into the grey-ness of the light, but they soon bulged open when they landed on a chair-like device positioned in the middle of the room.
The chair looked like a leather recliner, no different to what you would sit in when visiting the dentist - only it was not as raised raised above the ground.
Attached to the bottom of the chair were a set of black wooden stocks and fixed to the top of the chair were two sets of velcro cuffs.
Robert felt his heartbeat in his ears when the potential possibility of being restrained by a stranger arrived at the forefront of his mind.
He went to shuffle away, to turn around and plead to be let go, but before he could open his mouth, Maxwell held onto his shoulders and politely moved him to the side.
Maxwell’s chunky heeled boots clomped across the floorboards as he approached the chair.
“All I want you to do is sit in this thing for one hour, and then I let you go,” Maxwell announced his deal.
Robert huffed and wiped some sweat away from his upper lip with the back of his hand.
“Aw, mate, come on!” He glanced from side to side, his spine stiffening in his agitated state, “Is there anything else I can do? Do you need money …” he felt silly asking that, considering the lavish set up he currently stood captured in, “… Or, I dunno, a years worth of tickets to my zoo, for you and your br—”
—Maxwell took a seat on the chair and propped his feet on the top of the stocks, crossing them at the ankle.
“I made myself clear,” he looked as if he were maintaining all element of patience beneath his skin, “I don’t care for any of that. All I want … Is you, in this chair …” he held up the index finger of his right hand, “… For one hour.”
Robert winced and fingered his lower lip, “Aw get stuffed! This is crazy!” He tutted and shot a frustrated look into the ceiling, his Australian accent fierce and unapologetic in its delivery.
Maxwell sniggered and swooped his feet off of the stocks, planting them on the floor firmly - he lifted himself into a confident stand and then held his hands out to the chair, as if welcoming a princess to their carriage.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Maxwell reassured, “I just want to go ahead with our deal.”
Robert’s hands dangled by his sides in defeat, “You, you promise you won’t hurt me?” He hated how he had no choice, how the deal itself seemed quite simple, yet the things that could take place once he had sat down remained a total and unnerving mystery - as his survival instincts caused him to over think, he finally mustered up the brawn to ask, “What are you gonna do? What’s so special about the chair?”
Maxwell trailed his fingertips across the leather of the chair and smiled kindly at Robert.
“You’ll have to find out …”
Robert could do one of two things - he could portray the lead character of a horror film and scramble down the hall screaming and crying until he reached a locked door, where he would frantically try to pull it open, failing miserably until his attractive ambusher grabbed him by the legs, tore him away from his attempt at freedom and then did god knows what to him whilst the pretty Daintree Rainforest skyline looked on plainly and quietly.
Or he could ‘sit in that thing’, like ‘he named only as Maxwell’ had politely asked, where he would then be let go, if this strange man were to be trusted.
Robert stepped into the room, cleared his throat and then made his way towards the chair where he reservedly straddled the seat.
Maxwell unlatched the stocks and opened the top half, revealing eclipse shaped, open grooves for Robert to place his ankles in.
“My Horned Devils are fixing your camera as we speak,” he tapped the grooves, “They tell me you’re very talented, that your pictures are a work of art.”
Robert lifted his legs and placed each ankle into each groove, allowing Maxwell to close the top half of the stocks and lock the latch - he had to keep ‘mentally checking in’ - so far, all of this felt like some kind of bizarre, out of this world dream …
“Cheers,” he gulped, Maxwell now gently taking hold of his left wrist, “Uh, what’s a Horned Dev—”
“—I’m sure you have a team, people who advise you, who keep everything in line, make sure nothing slips out of place …” Maxwell secured a velcro strap around Robert’s left wrist, pinning his arm to the top of the chair, “… They’re my team …”
Robert felt the entirety of his left armpit widen, his bicep bulging, “Oh,” he sniffed, “I uh, I stink a little. I uh,” he faked excitement, fleshing out a future he was keen to make real, “I can’t wait to get home, where I can take a shower …” Maxwell lifted his right arm upward, cuffing his right wrist.
“I put the ‘do not trespass’ sign there on purpose,” Maxwell could divulge in the weird, now that he had his subject fully restrained, “The fence too,” he remained by Robert’s torso as he went over the details of a project that had taken around two million dollars and six weeks to pull together, “Hell, the entire tomb was a built set. I knew that I had to really peak your interest to get you in the right position …” he pressed an index finger over Robert’s left forearm and trailed it gently down to his elbow, causing Robert’s arm to stiffen, “… To create the right ‘narrative’ as my previous acquaintance’s would describe …”
Robert laughed in joyous ease as he watched Maxwell arrive at the foot of the chair, “Blimey, mate! It was all fake? So, this is one big joke?” He began to look around, ready for TV pranksters or someone he knew to reveal that this whole ordeal was just a lame and thoughtless set up, “I gotta say, I’m kinda relieved, it was all starting to feel a little—”
Robert pressed his lips together as Maxwell began to untie the lace of his left boot.
“—Hey, fella, what are you doing?” He asked.
“I’m removing your boot,” Maxwell replied, his tone very matter of fact.
Robert adjusted himself in his seat as Maxwell finished untying his lace.
“Yeah but …” he paused, Maxwell now tugging the boot away, “… Why?”
Maxwell admired the boot in his hand for only a second before throwing it over his shoulder - as he began to untie the laces to Robert’s right boot, he eyed the socked foot staring back at him.
“Size ten …” Maxwell bit his lower lip, “… And a half?”
Robert nodded slowly.
“What’s going on?” He enquired further.
Maxwell threw Robert’s right boot over the same shoulder, “Do you remember what was said to you, whilst my trap held you in upside down suspension …?” He stood and left Robert’s socked feet curling in anticipation as he walked back to his torso.
Robert narrowed his eyes into his lap, “Uh, not really …” he wriggled his nose, the tingle of a sneeze triggering flashbacks in his brain, “… Wait, you uh, you blew some kinda dust in my face …”
“Yes,” Maxwell arrived behind Robert, his palms landing gently over each shoulder, “And then I have you a warning …” his fingertips slid over his chest, “… You don’t recall?”
Robert arched his back and shot a worried look to each of Maxwell’s hands - first a speedy scowl at his left and then a speedier scowl to his right.
“It’s uh, all a bit of a blur, if I’m totally honest, mate …”
“Ah …” Maxwell moved his hands further down Robert’s torso, this time his palms landed over each of his nipples, which were shaped rather stiffly behind the cotton of his tee, “… I’ll remind you. It started with, ‘you have broken the rules’ …” he then moved his lips against Robert’s left ear, “… And then it concluded with, ‘therefore you must be punished’ …”
Robert threw his head forwards in overwhelmed exhilaration as Maxwell’s fingers all too suddenly dug into each of his underarms - the mind blowing sensation was extremely violating, explosively fun, powerfully engaging and utterly revolting all at once, it caused all of the air in his lungs to leave in the form of a bothered pant, his eyes widening, his eyebrows lifting, his hands automatically reaching down to grab at Maxwell’s, but the bondage kept his arms pinned above him.
“—YIKES!—”, Robert expressed his shock without meaning to, it just came out of him without his consent, “No, no stop!—”, he hurtled his torso from side to side as Maxwell invaded each of his underarms with an aggressive force, their vigorous tips penetrating the hyper sensitive delves beneath the sleeves of his tee, sleeves that were already damp with perspiration, “No, not that!—”
Maxwell dragged his fingernails down each of Robert’s sides, the young adventurer’s upper body thrashing and leaping beneath each finger, “Not what, Robert? Is something the matter?” He arrived at Roberts waist, where he pinched the hem of his t-shirt and began to roll it up Robert’s stomach.
“Don’t your dare—”, Robert spoke in an aggressive growl, his Australian twang threatening and breathless, “—Don’t you dare do what I think you’re gonna do—”, he hurtled to the right, then to the left, his t-shirt leaving his torso inch by inch as Maxwell peeled it away, the perplexed snarls muffled behind the cotton as the tee gathered over his chest, then his neck, then his face, “—Hey, stoppit! Don’t, don’t!—”, he had no choice but to squirm under unexpected touch as Maxwell used one hand to stroke across his waist, whilst using the other hand to pull his t-shirt over his head, “—Don’t you think about it, you buggar!”
Maxwell gathered the t-shirt around the rope and restraints that made up the bondage Robert kept on tugging at, “Let’s see how much you can take …” he peered over Robert’s head, admiring his smooth, lean yet muscular frame, his hairless chest, tight abs and fleshy navel, freckles decorating his ribcage and hips in various flourishes, “… Howl like a wolf, roar like a lion, laugh like a hyaena …” Maxwell slid his fingers back into each of Robert’s armpits, digging in forcefully without warning …
Such a thrilling touch once again removed all of the oxygen from Robert’s body, like stamping on a torn bag filled with air - he heaved outwards, his body throwing itself forwards, his face now glowing red as his open mouthed smile and bulging eyes suggested manic, expressive, bewildered joy, but the thrust of each arm attempting to yank out of each cuff, the ferociousness of each kick, the twist of each socked foot told a different story, “—You git!—”, he spat, his torso twisting and lunging in various directions, “—These bloody restraints!—”, he huffed, slamming his back against the chair, “—I’ll scream the place down!—”
Maxwell clawed into Robert’s upper body in a non stop, relentless journey from bicep to armpit, pec to stomach, hip to waist, ribcage to shoulder - he never, not for a second, took a moment to pause or briefly express mercy, his fingers constantly dancing over Robert’s torso, a torso now writhing, bucking, stretching and twisting in a constant thrash, the chair rattling, the stocks creaking, the huffing and panting uncontrollable and forever present, “—An old friend of mine had some advice that you might now find useful …” Maxwell purred into Robert’s ear, “… Lean into it …”, he licked the side of Robert’s face, “… It’s one hour of this, test yourself …”
All ten of Robert’s fingers flexed into a manic splay - his face, soaked in complete disbelief and now a little wet with saliva - could only boil with fury as this stranger slid their fingers back into the hyper sensitive depths of each underarm causing him to leap uncontrollably, his head once again hurtling forwards - like a person possessed, he was forced to twist his lips into an entertained sneer, his twenty year old frame bouncing with every pant - despite the circumstance, he chose for a moment not to beg for it to end or cry for it to stop, he simply squeezed his eyes shut and endured the onslaught, bringing all energy into the lengths of his toes which he then curled into an intensely tight scrunch, with such strength that the cotton of his socks creased.
Maxwell slid his fingertips out from Robert’s armpits and then licked the sweat away from their ends.
Robert hung from his restraints and slumped into his seat, a large sigh leaving his throat as his eyelashes fluttered and his stomach heaved up and down …
“You’re not much of a laugher, are you …” Maxwell noted, as he began to walk towards the stocks, “… A mover, not a giggler … Your kind are rare …”
Robert blinked away blurred vision and winced sharply as Maxwell dug his fingers into his left side, whilst passing him by —”You!—”, without a thought even arriving in his mind to nudge him to do so, Robert found himself trying to bite at Maxwell’s hand, “—Who are you!—”, his teeth almost successfully nipping at Maxwell’s knuckles.
Maxwell chuckled and yanked his hand away, as if he had just tapped something piping hot, where he then knelt down at the foot of the stocks, facing Robert, “I’m the thing that will change everything forever. I’m not ready to introduce myself to everyone just yet, but don’t worry, that’s a story for another day …” Maxwell eyed Robert’s socked toes, their clench still tight, almost protective, “… How does it feel, Robert? Being the captured animal …”
Robert could only bend his knees so much, “I hate it,” he admitted, “I can’t stand being …” he kicked his legs outward, the stocks shaking beneath his thrust, “… Don’t you dare …” he warned again, kicking for a second time, “… Not my feet!”
“Why not?” Maxwell lifted his right hand and pointed at the bottom of Robert’s left foot, “I’ve seen pictures of these bad boys, online … They’re so pretty …” Roberts foot began to twist and flex from side to side as Maxwell’s index finger neared his arch, “… They’re also trapped, locked up, they’re all mine to play with. What are you going to do about it?”
“You’ve tricked me!—”, Robert glared at the cuffs around each of his wrists, his resentful stare burning into them, “—You buggar!—”, he tugged and tugged and tugged, “—I’m gonna kill you! I’ll do whatever you want, not this!—”, the contrasts had already begun; intense threats mixed with keen negotiation - it made Maxwell smile in fulfilled satisfaction.
Maxwell stroked Robert’s socked sole with his index finger - simply doing so caused just as much bodily thrashing from Robert as when his underarms were invaded - straight away, Robert went back to leaping, lunging, hurtling, his teeth clamping down over his lower lip - he looked vibrant and alarmed, his eyes always watching Maxwell, their icy blue glare now aimed at his right foot, which angled itself into a fierce point where all five toes aimed themselves directly to the ground.
“You’re doing swell! …” Maxwell cheered, “… Only another fifty minutes to go,” he then decided to take all ten fingers into a fierce scribble, where he actioned five over the bottom of Robert’s left foot, five over the bottom of his right, his fingernails scratching and exploring over soft cotton at a speedy, determined rate, “Aussie boy, you’ve got some strong feet!”
Robert’s feet squirmed and stretched in every which way they could, his ankles rolling, his legs kicking, his toes always either curling, scrunching or splaying beneath each sock, “—Al, alright … O, oooookay—”, he blew air through his mouth, his nostrils flared, he smacked his head against the back of the chair once, twice, three times, “—This isn’t funny, mate!—”, laughter did leave him briefly, mostly due to how surprised he was by his current situation, “—Haha, get bloody stuffed!—”
Maxwell giggled into the back of his hand as he slid his fingernails away from Robert’s socked soles by dragging them over his heels, causing Robert to leap into a single hurtle where he then landed on his seat in a heavy bounce.
“Who would have thought that such strength could come out of such a pretty, blue eyed, blonde haired young man …” he then began to remove Robert’s left sock, “… Have you always been this sensitive to touch?”
Robert practically erupted at the suggestion of what might happen next, “… Keep my socks on!—”, he yelled his demand in a loud shout, “—I won’t be able to take it if you—”, he tutted, no matter how much he curled his feet inward, Maxwell succeeded in removing his left sock, and then his right, “—No! Not my feet, not my bare feet!—” he whined, his pale feet now sock-less and exposed, his long toes splaying with such strength the gaps between appeared as wide and open, “Ah shit!—”
Maxwell enhanced the panic in Robert’s voice and facial expression by picking a length of string nailed to the top of the stocks between his index finger and thumb, “Keep still, Robert …” he had to grab hold of Robert’s right foot, so that he could loop the length of string around his right big toe, “… And just enjoy our deal …” Robert was a passionate lee, he rarely stopped trying to escape, he always moved or huffed, growled or leapt, his feet constantly trying to evade any form of touch, “… It’s a special deal, one that you must just handle, and then you go home! We can call it something spectacular …” as he secured Roberts left big toe to another length of string, Maxwell perched in the cross legged position and admired the beauty that was Robert’s bound, locked, toe tied bare soles inches opposite him, “…We can call it, The Deal of Destiny …”
Robert’s toes curled and flexed, he yanked at his restraints and jumped in the chair as Maxwell began to faintly stroke each sole at the same time, “This isn’t a deal!—” he yelped, “This is torture!” He cackled, his feet unable to move if only by an inch, thanks to each loop of string containing both of his big toes, “I can’t stand it!—”, he admitted, shaking his head as a thrilled, perplexed sneer lifted his mouth upward, “You’ve gotta stop, mate! This is a bloody joke!—” his feet began to thrash, twist, flex faster and harder as Maxwell increased pressure, his fingernails now scribbling across the buttery smooth soles of Robert’s feet, “—Stop! Please, ah god! I’m freaking out, mate!—”
Maxwell grinned, “Oh! Please do! Please freak the fuck out!—”, he then clicked his fingers, “-In fact, let’s help you freak out sooner …” Maxwell’s Horned Devils knew that a simple click of the finger meant one thing and one thing only …
As Robert kicked and huffed in the chair, his feet flexing out and in, in and out, out and in, he lifted his head to watch a tall cloaked figure walk into the room - the figure wore the same kind of mask that had adorned Maxwell’s face earlier, and in his right hand he held a hairbrush.
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!—” Robert’s eyes widened as the brush was handled to Maxwell, who then turned the bristled side towards the bottoms of his feet, “—No! No way! No, no way!—” he pressed his lips shut and fiercely shook his head, “—Don’t you bloody dare! Dooooon’t you bloooody dare!—” his words sounded adamant but his tone almost teased Maxwell on, almost egged him onward to do it, to try, to ‘dare’ to inflict something that Robert assumed would feel utterly unbearable …
As The Horned Devil turned and walked out of the room, the swoop of his cape following after, Maxwell held onto the big toe of Robert’s left foot and pressed the brush against his heel, “There is nothing I love more than breaking a lee’s hairbrush virginity …” he blinked, pausing before the infliction, looking Robert directly in the eye, “… That is, unless someone has already rubbed a hairbrush across the bottoms of your feet, non stop, for minutes on end before? Have they?”
Robert shook his head, “Oh yeah! ‘Appens all the time!—”, he threw his torso towards Maxwell, his lunge fuelled by desperation, “—Look, I can’t take this? Alright, mate? Oh!—”, he gasped as the brush began its scrub, “—I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ya buggar! I won’t trespass again!—”, all of the physical delirium had caused him to forget that Maxwell had already told him the fence was a prop, the tomb a set, the whole thing a luring set up, “—Okay! Okay! Oh! Okay! Okay, alright! Enough, enough with the brush!—”, the brush had only just started, it had scrubbed left and then right, only across Robert’s heel, but such a effortless glide across soles as smooth as Roberts was enough to cause Robert to beg, “—Please, please, Stop! This is fucking wild!—”, he began to lose hope, his eyes watering as his head threw itself from left to right, his bare torso heaving upwards as his back bent into a high arch, “Mn, alright, I need to breathe—”
“—They really are delectable,” Maxwell admired each toe as he continued to scrub the brush across the bottom of Robert’s left heel, working his way towards his arch, “Toenails perfectly trimmed, no blisters or marks, soles exceptionally moist, barely any need for lubrication …” as soon as the brush hit the arch, Maxwell could not only see a change in reaction but he could feel it - Roberts foot tugged back with such force that his big toe slipped free from the toe tie’s grasp, his entire ankle seemingly wedged around the groove of stock - poor Robert was now trying with all his mite to pull his feet through and out, but of course, his feet remained securely in place, “That was a real yank back!” Maxwell scrubbed the brush across Robert’s arch from left to right, non stop, “Hard, isn’t it? Handling something as intense as this? Ever felt anything like it before?” He looped the string back around his big toe.
Robert shook his head and bit his upper lip, sweat now soaking most of his face and chest, some droplets forming in each armpit, “—Sort it out, mate!—”, that Australian twang was now high pitched and filled with grain, “Bloody hell, show some mercy!—”, he threw his head forwards and rattled in his seat as Maxwell used his free hand to scribble across his other sole, “—Nah, I’m dead! I give up, I give in! This is the worst!—”, he tried to reach his hands forwards, to stretch both feet across each other - he dripped with fever, disgruntled and giggly, “—I’m soaked! I can’t even get you off me!—” both of his feet flexed and twisted, his mouth now stretching open as he began to scream at the top of his lungs, “—Aahhh! Aaaaaah! What did I do to deserve this!—” once he had yelled out his admittance, he heaved inwards and curled his fists into balls, “—my hands are wet!—”, he whispered to himself, his tongue wagging as Maxwell journeyed the brush towards the base of his toes …
As soon as the plastic nibs glided across the base of Robert’s toes, an utterly astounding and beyond thunderous bellow of laughter erupted from the depths of Roberts chest - it started like a squeal, then it transformed into a scream and then it became an uncontrollable expel of frantic hysterics, similar to that of an evil villain propelling cackled success from their throat, however Robert was far from sinister, if anything he was too kind, too sweet, too approachable, Maxwell had made him this way, Maxwell had transformed him into this vessel, this heap of frantic flesh that did not pause between the laughter, that did not stop whooping and cheering the more his toes were touched in a way unlike ever before, “—Woooo! Wheeeey! Oh maaaaaan! Oh maaaaaan!—”, seeing and hearing such a reaction made Maxwell drop the brush and explore the fleshy, velvety digits with his fingers - controversially, starting at the tops of Robert’s toes.
If the chair were a person, it would be growling and huffing, using all the strength it could to contain Robert, who lunged from left to right in an extremely determined attempt to knock the chair over; the tops of his toes proved to be exceptionally sensitive, causing Robert’s eyes to roll to the back of his head as they were scratched and stroked, their silky betweens devoured, the tips pinched, the long, thick, milky white lengths manhandled by fingers far too ruthless to pause or stop - Robert could not beg or plead because he had been rendered speechless - he had simply decided to go out for a hike, to take pictures of the surrounding wildlife, and now here he was, strapped and bound, the most delicate and tender parts of his body infiltrated by touch.
“Thirty minutes left …” Maxwell shuffled closer to Roberts feet and began to bite and nipple, suck and slurp, lick and taste the five toes of Robert’s right foot, transforming the unwilling lee into a even more frantic, shocked, perplexed shambles of muscles and sweat as he gasped, widened his jaw and blinked into the crazy with fierce dubiety saturating his head from hairline to chin, “… It’s time for my new toy, don’t you think?”
Maxwell clicked his fingers twice - click, click!
“No!” Robert whined, his pits now leaking with exhaustion, “No more, please, I’m, I’m calling off the deal! I can’t take anymore!”
Maxwell’s invasive scratch turned into a firm rub - he no longer scribbled around Robert’s toes, he instead massaged them as another Horned Devil entered the room, this time holding a small plastic tub.
Robert shook away sweat from his eyes - he shuffled further up in his seat and coughed into his chest, his eyes shifting from side to side as he began to gather his thoughts - his moment of complete bewilderment was so noticeable that Maxwell had to shed light on it.
“Talk to me, Robbie …” Maxwell removed the lid from the tub, “… Get it all out …”
Robert chuckled in disbelief, “I’ve uh …” he sniffed, licking his lips, “… I’ve uh, never …” for the first time since Maxwell had sent all of his fingers into each of Robert’s underarms, the ‘word’ was said, “… I’ve never been tickled like this before …”
Maxwell looked impressed with himself, “And it’s likely you’ll never be tickled like this again …” he then held the tub over the toes of Robert’s left foot and gently tipped some white powder over his sole, shaking the tub gently, allowing the clouds of white to puff and float across his sole, “ … Isn’t that incredible? The next time tickling is even mentioned in your life, you’ll probably think of me, this moment, this room; the smells, the sights, the sounds, how you felt …”
Immediately, the toes of Robert’s left foot curled into a tight scrunch, “Ah!” He gasped, “What’s that!”
Maxwell ignored Robert and applied the same amount of powder to his right foot - within seconds, the toes to his right foot clenched just as hard as his left - more gasps left Robert’s mouth as soon as both of his feet became insanely itchy - his feet twisted inward, the toe ties creaked - Robert’s eyes watered harder, his mouth wide open - he hurtled towards the stocks, he so madly wanted to pull his hands out from the velcro, to scratch at his feet, but his bondage refused such an easy way out …
“Got an itch you can’t scratch, kid?” Maxwell asked, capping the lid back over the tub, handing the tub back to his Horned Devil, where he then stood back up and made his way to where he started - Robert’s underarms.
Another gasp, “Ah!—”, and then another one, “Ah!—”, and then another, “Ah!—”, Robert’s feet strained as he tried to rub them together - if they were not toe tied, he might just succeed, but sadly for Robert, that was not the case, “—It, it feels like millions of ants are nippin’ on me damn feet!” He wheezed and bit his lower lip, his hair now a little damp, “—It’s too bloody itchy! Ah, ya buggar! No, stop! This, this is worse than the damn tickling!—”, Robert’s toes now curled and scrunched, curled and scrunched, curled and scrunched, the itchiness becoming overwhelming to say the least …
Whilst Maxwell allowed the itching powder to do the work for him, he stood behind the chair and squeezed Robert’s shoulders, “A whole half hour …” he grinned, “… And I don’t intend to stop …” he warned, his fingers sliding over Robert’s chest where he tweaked his nipples with his index finger and thumb and then began to claw over Robert’s stomach and abs, pinching, poking and stroking at his tummy, hips and waist, “… You must be wondering why I felt inclined to do this, to you of all people, huh, Robert?”
Robert hurtled into the air, he leapt forwards and backwards, the chair creaking and rattling with every thrust of his weight, “It crossed my mind!—” he managed to say, as the itching powder tormented the bottoms of his feet, all ten of his toes, the fact he could not relieve the tingling horror by scratching at the sensation a form of torture in itself, “What! You get off on this or something?—” Robert threw his head towards Maxwell’s hands, his teeth snapping at his fingers, “You wanna see me pass out or what! If you keep going, I’m gonna!—”
“—No,” Maxwell’s fingertips never left Robert’s torso, no matter how much Robert twisted and flung his upper body away, “I want to see you exactly like this, the total opposite to your cheery, friendly self …” Maxwell’s claw-like grab returned to both of Robert’s armpits, “… You’re so chirpy, so smiley, always bouncing around with a kuala bear in your arms or a reptile in your palms …” Maxwell watched Roberts toe clenched feet twist and writhe as the itching powder continued to inflict a mind blowing prickling all over his soles, “… And now I have reduced to this … An animalistic, furious, sweat-soaked heap, cursing and swearing, physically pushed beyond a limit they did not expect to be pushed towards …” Maxwell dug his fingers into both of Robert’s underarms, “… I think I’ve done a great job, don’t you think?”
“What did you expect!—”, Robert hurtled upwards so hard and fast that the legs of the chair lifted from the floorboards, “—Mate, I’m serious, someone has GOT TO scratch my feet! It’s unbearable, I can’t think straight!—”, all ten of Roberts toes splayed so hard they twitched.
“Understood,” Maxwell drew circles in each of Robert’s armpits, “Devils, assemble!” He called.
One, two, three Horned Devils entered the room with black gloves on each hand - at the end of each gloved finger was a sharp silver claw.
“No, wait, that, that’s not what I meant!—”, Robert had hoped Maxwell would show some mercy, would be the one to do the scratching for him - now, three Horned Devils knelt at the stocks and began to scratch and scribble over his soles, from toe to heel, offering overwhelming relief whilst still producing highly intense sensory jolts up and down his legs, “Ah! Oh! Ah! That tickles! No stop, that tickles!—”
The tall standing feathers, the capes from the cloak, the shadows from The Horned Devils height … It all enveloped Robert in a monstrously maddening consumption, swallowing him whole as his size ten and a halves were gorged by thirty sharp claws at once whilst his shirtless upper body was relished by Maxwell …
… Robert’s laughter, begging and pleading unapologetically reached stratospheric heights of uncontrollable release, the loud and thunderous expel of hysterics arriving as the genuine result of his surprise tickle torment …
… And, even in the height of his insanity, Robert noticed that Maxwell did not shut the door to contain the wildness in one room - it was clear that he wanted it out, free to reign, the sounds and noises created by the sudden infliction echoing into The Daintree Forest for all to hear …
Utterly exhausted and entirely drained of energy, Robert was carried back to the couch he had woken on by his captors; one Horned Devil held his left ankle, one Horned Devil held his right, another held his left wrist, whilst Maxwell held his right wrist - splayed into a star, his back hovering inches above the ground, his weight was taken away from the room and dumped into a slump, where Robert could only mumble his concerns through swollen lips, his eyes glazed over, his toes and underarms still tingling.
“Look at me,” Maxwell whispered, “Remember me … Remember my name …”
Robert lifted his head and faced Maxwell as the surrounding Horned Devils faded away into nothing.
Maxwell cupped his hands around his own mouth and blew a large cloud of glitter into Robert’s face.
Robert scrunched up his nose and let out a loud sneeze, “—Ah choo!—”, where he then slouched into the couch and felt his eyelids drop, “—I’m gonna g, get you, for this …” Robert managed to whine, but before he could live out the basis to his threat, everything turned black.
***
When Robert woke up, he found the landscape surrounding him in an upside down position.
Creak, creak, creak …
The long length of rope containing his right angle creaked above - he hung in a dangle, wearing the same clothes he had worn whilst hiking through the rainforest; his zoo uniform, which consisted of white socks, walking boots and a camel coloured two piece made up of shorts and a short sleeved shirt.
He reached up to his ankle and shoved his fingers into his sock, retrieving a small blade that he always kept tucked away for emergancies.
With lips pressed together and a line of perspiration developing over his forehead, Robert used the blade to cut the rope, where the then fell to the ground a few feet below him.
Thud!
Robert winced and rubbed the back of his head - he kicked the rope away and then picked up his camera, the lens broken in two.
Had everything he had just experienced been a dream? Had he really been captured by strangers in masks and made to endure a single hours worth of tickle torment? His memories felt blurred, his body aching and taunt, his mind beyond confused as he tried to make sense of his current state.
Robert looked around for a tomb, for statues and fog, the mysterious setting that had peaked his interest and curiosity in the first place …
Only trees, bushes and the buzz of insects greeted him.
Robert began to climb back up the hill, keen to head home, unsure if what had just happened was real or not …
… However, one thing was for certain: he would never trespass again.
