Tim spent the first two minutes in The Incubator trying to calm himself down.
Being so confined, with such inability to move, had started to toy with his anxiety.
Blinded and trapped, Tim could do nothing but face downward.
He felt the small gap between his palms and thighs fill with sweat.
His balls felt squashed and uncomfortable ...
... The fact he couldn’t readjust them played with his nerves.
It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
Tim scrunched up the toes to his left foot as his second Gucci trainer slid off of his body.
His feet, now only dressed in white Nike socks, wiggled around helplessly as Armie dropped the sneaker to the floor.
“Why New York?” Asked Armie.
Tim had been taking deep and slow breathes, in … and out … In an attempt to decrease the rate of his fast beating heart.
To answer Armie’s question, he had to put this momentary meditation on hold.
“It reminds me of home … ” Tim bit his lip as he felt Armie’s index finger trail along the underneaths of his socked toes, “… I thought it ma-ma-made sense …”
Armie wheeled his desk chair a little closer to the back end of The Incubator, so that Timmy’s socked feet sat inches away from his face.
Armie breathed in the gentle scent of Tim’s feet.
They smelt just right.
The boy had clearly developed a panicked sweat.
Armie placed his nostrils by Tim’s left big toe and sniffed inward.
Tim’s feet twitched in anticipation as Armie swallowed down the taste that came with the smell.
“It does make sense,” Armie spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, “And don’t forget, you can only use it once. If you don’t use it at all, it carries over to the next session.”
Tim nodded, forgetting that Armie couldn’t see his understanding.
“Timmy?” Armie called, from around The Incubator.
“Yes!” Tim replied shortly, almost with a raised voice, “I get it. I get the rules.”
Armie smiled.
“Good.”
Tim noticed an itch over his left eyebrow.
He hissed in frustration, with the knowledge that he would not be able to scratch it for quite some time.
The itch would soon become the least of his worries.
“Have you always been a ticklish guy, Timmy?”
Armie asked his question as he began to slowly, and ever so gently, drag his fingertips over Tim’s socked soles.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut behind his blindfold.
“Y-yeah…” Tim clenched his teeth as Armie’s fingers danced over the bottom of his feet, with the weight of fairy-steps, “ … For, fffffor a-a-as long as I can remember.”
Tim tried to cross his feet over each other, in an attempt to block Armie’s fingers, but Armie still found a space to attack in his current teasing way.
“When did you realise you were this ticklish?”
Armie had to dig his fingers into the area of The Incubator that held Tim’s feet in position, so he could successfully pinch the socks gathered around Tim’s ankles.
Tim swallowed down a nervous bubble before answering Armie’s question.
“Uhm … “ He had to think back, to when he was just a kid, “ … I think I must’ve been seven, m-maybe… Maybe eight …?”
Tim opened his mouth wide in terror as Armie began to pull the Nike sock off of Tim’s right foot.
Tim felt his heel reveal itself first, and then the centre of his sole.
Armie decided to stop taking off the sock and instead left it half on.
Armie took a moment to admire the silky soft flesh, so far only partly presented.
“What happened?” Asked Armie, as he ran an index finger in a circular motion, around the exposed flesh of Tim’s foot.
“Fuck …” Tim shifted his head from side to side, “ … No, fuck …” He felt sweat developing over the back of his neck, “… Uh, I … My Dad, he uh … He pinned me to the floor and tickled me, one time …” Tim ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth as Armie toyed with his exposed foot, "... He didn't stop, digging his fingers i-into my armpits ... "
Armie tickled down Tim’s right sole, pulling the sock closer towards his toes as he did so.
The Incubator wobbled slightly as Tim began to squirm within it’s confines.
“Ah! Armie, fuck, stop, fuck …” Tim’s foot twisted from side to side as the sock finally left his sole and landed on top of his Gucci trainers.
“Stop?” Armie’s eyes widened at the beauty of Tim’s now bare right foot, staring back at him, “We’ve only just started …”
Tim curled his toes and grunted in frustration.
Armie shuffled closer and this time, placed his entire nose against Tim’s exposed sole.
He breathed in the scent, whilst running his mouth over the soft flesh.
Tim chewed on his lip as he endured Armie’s facial hair, brushing over such a sensitive area of his body.
“So?” Armie spoke into Tim’s foot, his tongue trailing over the naked skin, “How did you feel, when your Dad tickled you like that?”
Tim’s jaw fell open as he felt the toes of his right foot become consumed by the feeling of warm, moist saliva.
“Ah! Fuck! It, it felt like Hell,” Tim’s toes were invaded by Armie’s tongue, causing him to hiss inwards as the wet muscle glided in-between Tim’s now flexing digits.
“Does *this* feel like Hell?” Armie sucked on Tim’s toes, one by one, until he reached Tim’s big toe, finishing his oral search with a gentle bite.
“Jesus!” Tim scrunched his toes up tightly, “Please, don’t bite them …”
Armie raised his eye brows.
“Oh, you’d rather I did this instead?”
Armie took both of his index fingers and dragged harder lines down Tim’s right sole.
Tim growled in ticklish agony as his foot twisted to the side.
He tried to use his left socked foot to block Armie’s attacks, which worked momentarily, but Armie would then tickle the socked foot out of the way, causing Tim to yelp in defeat.
And then, Armie stopped.
“I’d rather the biting …” Tim mumbled breathlessly.
Armie smirked in success.
He angled his head to that his mouth sat underneath Tim’s socked foot.
Then, he clamped his jaws around Tim's toes, like a hungry shark.
“God damnit!” Tim curled his fists into balls, within The Incubator.
Carefully and gently, Armie gathered enough of the sock between his teeth and then, he began to pull it off of Tim’s foot using his mouth.
“Mother fucker …” Tim licked dry lips as he felt the sock leave his foot.
Tim’s feet were now both entirely exposed.
His toes curled as the warm air hit the soft expanse of his soles.
He wiggled them gently, in dire anticipation …
… They were trapped,
Vulnerable,
Completely and utterly captured and restricted.
They were going nowhere.
Armie could do what he wanted.
Tim, could do nothing.
The panic and fear started to return.
It crept up Tim’s throat in the sickening form of nausea.
Tim had to gulp it down.
“Your feet are … Perfect, Timmy …” Armie brushed away some flecks of white sock, causing Tim to jump in The Incubator, “… Absolutely perfect.”
“Th-thanks,” Tim managed, through clenched teeth.
“When did you realise your feet were this ticklish?” Armie asked, as he took the index finger to his left hand toward Tim’s soles.
More questions.
Is he getting off on this?
Tim endured the electric sensation of Armie’s fingernail running down his feet.
He tried to pull his knees inwards, but he could barely move his legs.
“Ah! Uh! Uhm,” Tim closed his eyes.
Thinking back into his life, in an attempt to get an answer for Armie, proved difficult because of the ticklish distraction from the ankles down.
“S-sssswimming,” Timmy gasped as Armie started to play with his toes, “It, i-i-it was during swimming ... !"
“Go on … “ Armie pressed.
Tim felt his throat stiffen as Armie started to scribble into both of his soles.
“AS A KID!” Tim yelled, “F-friends of mine wrestled me in a pool, fuck, during a swimming lesson …” Tim curled up all of his toes and wiggled his feet manically as Armie tickled, and tickled, and tickled …
… Tim gave up trying to answer.
He chose instead to beg.
“Fuck, Armie - stop, stop! Please, I can’t, I can't take it,” Tim wanted, so desperately, to pull his feet into The Incubator, but they remained trapped and exposed, in such a vulnerable way.
“Seriously, seriously stop, I can’t, I can’t…”
“Oh yes you can …” Armie now tickled Tim’s feet fully, exploring all areas with his fingers.
Tim writhed around inside The Incubator, shaking the contraption from left to right as he bellowed outrageously into the darkness.
“MAN, oh fu-huh-hahahucckkk, fu-huh-hahahaaaaaack! Stop, jesuschriststop! Fuck, oh god, come on! Man, fuck! Hauhhhh-huhahaha-ffffffuckkk! Holy-eh-eeeehehehee, shit! Shit!”
Armie laughed menacingly as Tim’s desperate hysterics and swearing satisfied his ears.
He gradually stopped the torment, finishing with a couple of index finger-drags around Tim’s arches to keep him surprised.
Tim’s feet twitched forcefully with every touch as he coughed into thin air, in an attempt to catch his breath.
“Fuck …” Tim felt tears fall from his eyes, although these were dried by the cloth of the blindfold.
Armie shuffled about, where he started to open up drawers to nearby desks.
Tim could make out the sound of a tool box landing heavily on the ground - something made out of tin, maybe?
He could hear Armie rattling around, fingering through objects, clearly trying to find something.
Tim slowly rubbed his feet against each other, as he tried to remove the tickly itchiness still torturing them.
“W-what are you doing?” Asked Tim anxiously, “H-how long does this go on for?”
Armie found the tool he wanted to use.
Within his index finger and thumb, he held a long, sharp, white seagull feather.
“For as long as I want,” He exclaimed.
Tim, unaware of what Armie held so excitedly in his grasp, simply sighed and continued to try and remain calm.
Armie centred himself on his chair and, without warning, he slid the feather in-between Tim’s right index and big toe.
Tim yelped, as if the feather had sent an electric shock through his legs.
Armie, actioning a saw-like movement, dragged the feather back and forth, invading the hyper sensitive areas between Tim’s toes.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips.
“FUCK.”
He yelled so deeply and loudly that Armie sensed anger.
“THAT, THAT FUCKING TICKLES,” Tim felt his toes ache as he curled them up and re-scrunched them, at every ticklish feather-like drag, “JESUS, w-w-what is that?”
Armie chuckled as he slid the feather across Tim’s soles.
“What do you think it is?”
Tim’s eyes burst open behind his blindfold as the feather found an especially ticklish spot between his little toe.
“NO! GOD, GOD, FUCK, FUCK,” Tim bit his lip as he endured an almost painful experience, where the feather toyed with the sensitive space of flesh to the point where Tim thought he might cry, “A FUCKING FEATHER?”
Armie smiled, “Correct …”
Noting the spot around Tim’s left small toe, Armie continued to torture it with the feather, pushing Tim further and further over his limit with every second that went by.
Tim could do nothing but try and twist and cross his feet over each other as the feather carried on it’s tormenting attempts, “That’s too much, Armie - FUCK - this is, this too-toohaha, ahaha fuck, fucking much!”
Armie admired just how much Tim tried to block out the tickling attacks, by using his feet.
That’s all he could do.
With his arms, legs, hands and upper body completely immobilised by The Incubator, using his size 11’s to flap away the feather would be Tim’s only form of defence.
Suddenly, Tim caught the feather between his feet.
“Ah ha!” Tim cheered gleefully, “Now what Mother fucker? Now what!”
Armie grinned and, with minimal effort, he pulled the feather through Tim’s feet.
Tim grunted in ticklish despair as the tool slid through the ultra sensitive sides of Tim’s soles.
His feet, worn out and throbbing, dangled in their trapped position as Armie decided that something needed to be done about Tim’s rebellious movements.
“Hm,” Armie stroked the end of his chin and then, he went back to fingering through the tool box.
Tim caught his breath whilst Armie clincked and clanked over objects that Tim would only soon discover as a surprise.
“Can I…” Tim gulped down the need to be sick, “… Can you take... Take the blindfold off, now? I can’t see anything anyway.”
Armie found what he’d been looking for - some black string and a small bottle of baby oil.
“I like that you’re blinded,” Armie revealed, “But yes, for now, I’ll offer some light relief …”
Tim sighed, “Th-thank you…” He cleared his throat and readied his head for Armie to walk over and generously remove the blind fold.
“ … But first …” Armie spoke slowly.
Damn, thought Tim.
Obviously, the kindness would come with a catch.
“I want you to, truthfully, tell me what it feels like to be tickled, like this, right now,” Armie asked.
He sat with his arms folded around his chest as he quietly waited for Tim’s answer.
“Why?” Asked Tim.
Armie assessed the neat quality of his fingernails as he contemplated Tim’s question.
“Because, hearing you physically say it, with your own voice, in your own words … It would be a dream come true,” Armie replied.
Tim chuckled as his feet wiggled restlessly, “You really do love tickling, don’t you…”
Armie leant forward and gently pressed his index fingers over Tim’s soles.
Tim hissed, reactively shifting his feet inwards.
The Incubator creaked with every struggled movement.
Armie continued to drag his fingernails over Tim’s soles, “Answer me, Timmy…” He urged.
“Stop, STOP,” Tim growled, “STOPandI’lltellyou,” He mumbled quickly.
Armie paused the torment, just for a moment.
Tim curled his toes in anticipation.
“It’s ... It's unlike anything I’ve ever felt before,” Tim explained, “I knew … I k-knew I was ticklish,” Tim felt his cheeks blush red, “But I didn’t know I was *this* ticklish. I didn’t realise it could be this bad… I uh, honestly … I don’t know how I’m gonna handle this. It’s *literally* torture … You've fucking got me, Armie. I am, so fucking stuck that it hurts. And I'm gonna lose my shit if this doesn't end soon.”
Armie smiled.
“Perfect.”
He then stood from his chair and walked around The Incubator.
He knelt down at Tim’s head, poking out the other end of the device, and then he carefully removed the blindfold.
Tim was greeted by Armie’s handsome, charming face.
“Hey kid,” Armie tidied up Tim’s hair with his hands, tucking curls behind ears.
Tim, eyes watering and cheeks flushed with red, glanced up with an exhausted expression.
“Thanks,” He managed.
Armie ran the back of his hand gently around Tim’s jaw and then, just as quickly as he arrived, he left Tim’s sight and returned to the end of The Incubator.
Armie used the blindfold to tie Tim’s ankled together, further more securing his feet together.
Tim grunted as he felt his feet pull inward, squashed up besides each other thanks to the tight tie of the blindfold that once sat around his face and now sat around his ankles.
Armie fingered under The Incubator, where he located ten evenly spaced metal hooks that had been nailed into the device.
Armie then took the string and began to tie it to one of the middle hooks.
He then carefully pulled the string up, where he started to tie it around Tim’s big toes.
As soon as Tim felt the touch, he shifted within The Incubator.
“Now what?” Tim wished he hadn’t asked.
Armie looped the string around each of Tim’s big toes, tying them together tightly, with patience and dedication to his craft.
“I’m stopping you from blocking off my attacks,” Answered Armie, “This way, your feet won’t be able to move at all…”
Tim could barely handle the sensation of the string being pulled around his toes, let alone what would be coming next.
“Ah! F-Ah-ck!”
“Everything okay up there, kid?” Armie joked.
Tim wriggled within his leathery confine, “You know it fucking tickles, man, fuck…”
Finally, Tim’s feet stopped wriggling once Armie had tied both toes together.
Tim’s remaining toes flexed their long length outwards - as if reassuring him that he still had some form of achievable movement, besides blinking or moving his head.
Armie felt dissatisfied with Tim’s ability to still somewhat move.
For his next act, Armie would need Tim entirely immobile.
So, he took more string and decided to tie ALL of Tim’s toes to the hooks under The Incubator.
“No,” Tim couldn’t believe what was happening, “No, you can’t…” Tim shook his head, “… That’s not fair, that’s … That’s —“
“— Too much?” Armie finished Tim’s sentence for him.
“YEAH,” Tim frowned deeply, “You can’t, you can’t… No…” Tim laughed nervously as each of his toes were tied individually with string, and then pulled downward as the end of the tie knotted around the hooks below.
After five minutes of excruciatingly sensitive toe tying, Tim’s feet were now displayed like a work of art.
His ankles, tied up.
His bare soles, exposed and tightly squashed side by side, poking out of The Incubator.
His big toes, tied together.
And his remaining eight toes, all tied with string, tightly attached to the metal hooks that happily held onto the thin restraints.
Armie could see Tim try to move his feet.
They squirmed as much as they possibly could, but in their bondage, all they could do was gently twitch.
“Fuck,” Tim tutted, “This isn’t fair, I can… I can barely move…” Tim felt frustrated with his position, “What am I gonna do, just, just fucking take it? This is gonna —“
“—This is gonna what?” Asked Armie, as he took the baby oil and generously drizzled the glistening lotion all over Tim’s naked soles.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his mouth together as he endured the cold liquid rolling down his silky smooth feet.
“This is gonna suck,” Tim admitted.
Armie chuckled.
Gently, he massaged the baby oil into Tim’s feet, revelling in how hysterical it made Tim by simply doing so.
“STOP, THAT’S ENOUGH,” Tim snapped, “THIS IS TOO MUCH.”
Armie rubbed the baby oil into the long, exposed length of Tim’s toes, causing Tim to writhe and squirm within The Incubator.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Armie announced.
Tim began to whine, “Nooo, Armie, fuck, fuck, FUCK. Come on? Come on.”
Armie, satisfied with the application of baby oil, screwed the cap back onto the bottle where he returned it to the tool box.
He sat back and admired the sight before him.
Tim’s soles glistened in all their ticklish glory.
Now, to push him over the edge.
To get him to say the safe word.
Armie didn’t warn Tim - he just went for it.
He started by wiggling his fingers over Tim’s soles - this obviously sent Timmy wild.
He thrashed around manically, sending The Incubator shifting from left to right in gentle creaks.
He yelled, spat, swore and cussed.
His throat went dry and hoarse.
He couldn’t cross his feet over - he couldn’t shake them from left to right.
He couldn’t curl his toes or scrunch them up - that in itself once provided light relief by at least creating an outlet for stress during the situation.
Now, Tim just lay there, trapped, with no choice but to endure the hyper ticklish feeling dancing all over his soles.
“FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT STOP STOP STOP!”
Armie didn’t stop - he continued.
He explored Tim’s toes and arches - he found ultra sensitive areas around the sides of his feet and the tops of his heels.
Even the boys ankles are ticklish!
Armie lived out his fantasy with unapologetic glee.
He also felt proud at how well he’d tied Tim’s toes.
No matter how much the boy squirmed and screamed, begged and pleaded, each ticklish toe remained attached in place, thanks to the tightness of the black string.
Tim’s voice sounded broken.
“ARMIE PLEASE, COME ON GOD FUCK, FUCK, I CAN’T… Honestly? Honestly. HONESTLY. I CAN’T - pleaaaaaaa-eeeeeaaaasseee I ca-ahahahahahahaaaaaan’t!”
Armie couldn’t quite believe his luck.
He watched his own fingers physically gliding over the creamy smooth flesh.
“There is not one single inch of your feet that isn’t ticklish, Timmy …” Armie licked his lips, “ … It’s incredible. It’s perfect, it’s … Beyond comprehension.”
After ten minutes of driving Tim wild, Armie stopped tickling him, where he instead swapped fingernails for a firmer touch.
Tim coughed outward as his lungs filled back up with air.
He leant into the uncomfortable massage, which still tickled, but existed as pleasure compared to what he had just endured.
Armie’s warm hands gliding over his trembling soles felt comfortably unbearable.
“Please…” Tim coughed up again, “… Give me … A … Break … Pl-p-please …”
Armie’s hands left Tim’s feet, where they returned to the seagull feather.
“That’s what the safe word is for,” Armie reminded Tim.
He felt his cock twitch in his Ralph Lauren trousers.
Man, those ten minutes were incredible.
Tim thought about the safe word.
This entire session had been going on for what … Thirty minutes now, possibly longer?
Or was it less?
Could Tim end this now, simply by saying the words, ‘NEW YORK’.
Or, should he keep it so that he could use it in the future.
Surely, the next session would be harder, and then the one after that, harder still …
… Tim yelped as something sharp hit the ball of his left foot.
What.
The fuck …
… Is that.
The blunt, needle like feeling dragged up Tim’s sole.
Tim felt his mind be blown.
The sensation felt so sudden,
So unexpected,
So … *viscerally* ticklish …
The word ‘New York’ left his brain almost immediately, and made it’s way to his mouth.
But Tim didn’t say it.
Instead, he bit his lip and closed his eyes.
Armie used the nib of the feather to draw circles and shapes over the plump flesh of Tim’s baby oil drenched soles.
Tim burst into hysterics.
His eyes widened to the point where he feared they might fall out.
His face, now vibrantly red, bulged with veins as he felt a feeling on his soles that he’d never felt before.
“WOW,” Tim blurted out his astonishment, “I CAN’T. I CAN’T HAAHAHAHAAHAHANDLE THAAHAHAHAHAHAHATTTT, NO, NO WAY NOOOO, NO. NO? NO …”
His overwhelming reaction jittered into hysteric cries and screams as he began to lose all control.
Armie continued to scratch away, taking the feather nib to all of the newer areas he had discovered; the bit between Tim’s little toe … The sides of Tim’s soles … That fleshy area, right in the middle …
The sharpness of the nib worked perfect at driving Tim absolutely mad.
“No, no, no, NO, NO, NOOO!” Tim screamed so hard that dribble dangled from his mouth and emotion ran from his nose, “PLEASE, COME ON! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST COME ON!”
The Incubator shifted from left to right as Tim wriggled inside.
“THIS IS RIDICULOUS,” He cried, “I’M GONNA TIP THIS FUCKING THING OVER!”
Armie smirked, knowing full well that wouldn’t happen.
So, he continued to explore the ticklish expanse of Tim’s soles, pushing him closer and closer to tipping point …
… The nib danced from one sole to the next.
When Tim thought one foot couldn’t take it any further, he’d find his next foot enduring the same problem.
This was the most ticklish Tim had ever felt, in his life.
“IT’S INSANE,” Tim screamed, “THIS IS TOO MUCH COME ON! I’VE GOT TEARS! COME ON!”
And, surely enough, whilst not fully crying, tears started to roll down Tim’s cheeks where they dropped off his face and landed on the floor, a floor Tim could only stare at.
Manic desperation continued to flood from his eyes as he endured the nib tickling, for what felt like a life time.
“It can all stop, Tim, if you just say your safe word,” Armie teased.
Now, he tickled one foot with the nib, and the other with his fingers.
“NONONONONONONONONONO, FUCK FUCK FUCK THIS,” Tim sounded destroyed, unable to conceive thought, mentally damaged, “Come on man, plea-eaaa-eheheeaaaase I can’t? I can’t. I can’t…”
Armie stopped.
Tim’s gasped in shock.
Have I made it?
He licked as much saliva from his lips as he could, but it continued to fall from his mouth.
Armie had transformed Tim into a dribbling mess.
Suddenly, Tim felt his toes be released from the string.
The tight, restricted position his feet had been in disappeared entirely.
Armie then untied Tim’s big toes.
Tim flexed them in relief.
“Fuck…” Tim panted, “… Is it ... Is it over?”
Armie nodded with a smile.
“I’m proud of you, Timmy …” He removed the blindfold from Tim’s ankles and then, carefully, he massaged Tim’s feet.
“NO,” Tim’s oily feet squirmed in Armie’s grasp, “Enough! That's too much too, honestly, please, God stop…”
Armie continued, “Your feet need to be soothed,” He said, whilst massaging them through oily hands, “This’ll make you feel better—“
“—IT FUCKING TICKLES,” Tim’s ticklish toes slid between Armie’s fingers as the baby oil continued to work as perfect lubricant for the massage/ticklish finish.
Cheekily, Armie snuck in a few scratches here and there as he rubbed Tim’s feet ‘better’.
Tim's feet slid against each other as he groaned into the floor.
Armie’s hands slid away from Tim’s soles, where he then stood up and made his way to Tim’s head.
On the floor, a puddle of dribble.
Hanging from Tim’s chin, a string of saliva.
Tim’s face looked flustered.
His hair, soaked with sweat.
His eyes, bloodshot.
Armie pulled the seagull feather out from behind his back and gestured to the nib.
“Effective, isn’t it?”
Tim shook his head.
“The fucking worst.”
Armie dragged the feather around Tim’s jaw and nose, causing Tim to squeeze his eyes shut and growl at Armie.
“ENOUGH, STOP, STOP IT.”
That was an angry order, not an ask.
Armie had this boy for four weeks.
And this was just the beginning.
“Okay,” Armie tucked the feather behind his own ear, “I’m a big believer of not making too much of a good thing, so… “
Armie stood and unlocked The Incubator.
The lid slowly lifted up, revealing Timmy’s naked body, laid out on his front.
Tim slowly and shakily got to his knees.
He fell to his ass and then he rubbed his feet.
“Man, that was… Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced,” Tim admitted.
Armie felt his cock grow larger in his pants.
“That’s music to my ears,” He said, "What was the worst part?"
Tim slid his own fingertips over his soles and between his toes, in an attempt to remove the itchy-ness.
"What the fuck do you think?" Tim chuckled, and then coughed into his fists.
"I want you to tell me," Armie folded his arms.
Tim took in some air and then sat back on his arms.
"Man, uh ... Fuck, the tip of the feather? It was ..." Tim raised his eyebrows, " ... Excruciating, to say the least."
Armie wanted to rub his own cock, but he kept his arms tucked at his sides.
"And how did you feel, when I tied down your toes individually?"
Tim sat back up and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Like, the worst feeling. I felt so trapped anyway, and then when you did that ..." Tim wiped some tears from his eyes, " ... I've never felt so restricted in my life. I honestly thought I'd go insane..." Tim frowned, " ... Part of me thinks I do, go insane ... You push me to places my mind hasn't been before."
Armie felt pre cum drench his underwear.
"Go on..."
Tim swallowed down some dry air and then licked his lips.
"Well, it's like, mind numbing colour. An intense wall, in your head. When you used the nib ... I just felt screaming. Like, my body had to expel everything," He shrugged, "It's hard to explain."
Armie stepped forwards and placed a hand on Tim's shoulder.
"Well, you're doing a great job already."
Tim smiled as he looked at Armie's hand with an exhausted expression full of relief.
His palm fet hot and comforting on his skin.
And just like that, after such an intense first session under Armie's contract, sub and dom were reminded that besides everything, they were friends.
***
A few hours later, after a beer and the allowance to get dressed into sweat pants, Armie lit the fire and then showed Tim where he'd be living.
Armie took him to the top floor of his apartment where he walked him into a giant en-suite bedroom with mahogany carpets, giant velvet curtains, window to ceiling windows and a huge oak wood, king-sized bed in the middle.
Surrounding the bed were mink fur rugs, lit candles and shelves on the walls filled with antique books.
“Whoa…” Tim gawped.
“Your home, for the next month,” Armie nudged Tim into the room and then followed him in afterwards.
Tim felt huge comfort at the feeling of soft carpet beneath his bare soles, instead of a torturous fingers or glistening baby oil.
He walked around the bedroom, in awe.
He noted no lock on the door, as well foot lotions and moisturisers in the bathroom.
But, the thing that stood out the most was the chain attached to the bottom left corner of the bed.
At the end of the chain, a leather cuff with a metal lock binding ...
Tim ran a hand through his hair and then glanced over at Armie.
“Is that for me?” He asked.
Armie nodded as he removed a key from his trouser pocket.
“It’s part of the fantasy. Each night, I’ll require you to wear that on your ankle. It’s a reminder, that for now…” Armie stared into Tim with a predatory look, “ … You belong to me.”
Tim shuffled awkwardly on the spot.
“You don't have to do that, Armie ... ” Tim lifted his shoulders in defeat, “… I guess I don’t have a choice, but ... I've signed the contract. I'm going nowhere.”
Armie nodded, “I know. I just like knowing I've kept you in one place …”
Armie then looked at the Chanel watch strapped to his wrist, “And now, I’d say it’s time we both got some rest.”
Armie waited patiently as Tim showered, brushed his teeth and then unpacked.
They didn’t talk.
It felt weird to be so normal around each other, in such an abnormal situation.
Fifteen minutes later, Tim stood in his underwear.
Armie patted the mattress.
The bed was so huge that Tim had to climb on.
Armie sat beside him and then patted his lap.
Tim carefully placed his foot over Armie’s crotch.
His heel unintentionally rubbed against the hardness under Armie’s pants.
Armie then attached the leather cuff to Tim’s ankle, securing it with a twist of the key, a key he then pocketed.
Tim was now chained to his bed, by the foot.
Armie leaned forwards and took both of Tim’s feet.
He then lifted them slightly, so they sat in his eye line.
Armie looked over Tim’s perfectly shaped toes, his neatly trimmed toe-nails, his soft soles and plump heels …
“… Stunning,” He whispered, "Ticklish and stunning."
Tim shifted his eyes from left to right.
Then, Armie kissed Tim’s feet tenderly and laid them neatly out on the bed.
Armie stood, made his way slowly to the bedroom door and then turned to face Tim.
“Thanks, Tim… For doing this…”
Tim blinked, smiled cautiously and then nodded just the once.
“Sure…”
Armie hovered by the door and then gently said, "Goodnight, kid."
"Night," waved Tim.
Once had had heard Armie head back downstairs, Tim sat up and assessed the restraint around his ankle.
He pulled at it, trailed his fingers over the leather, checked out the strength of the chain …
… Yeah, I’m going nowhere.
Tim lay on his back as the lights went off.
The room was now lit by moonlight shining from outside and over New York.
New York … Thought Tim.
A safe word he hadn’t used.
It had taken almost every fibre of his being not to blurt out the city's name.
Tim shivered at the memory of the feather’s knib, trailing over his feet.
He had no idea baby oil had that effect.
He had no idea what would happen next …
… Or if he could even take it.
It was then Tim realised he had no idea what would be on it’s way,
And if agreeing to do this with Armie had been the right decision after all ...
TCTLR continues in Chapter Seven - ‘Something More’ …