Tim woke up with an unexpected erection.
He opened his eyes, acknowledged the feeling in his tummy and the stiffness in his briefs and then, with gentle movement, he slid his hand under the sheets and slowly began to touch himself.
Sunlight beamed into his giant bedroom.
His ankle still remained cuffed to the corner of the bed, just like Armie had left it the night before.
This didn’t stop Tim from rubbing his palm gently over the thickness of his manhood.
Like Armie, he too had urges.
He too had thought, needs and natural reactions.
Tim lay on his back, with bedsheets draped over areas of his half naked body.
He closed his eyes and thought about his most recent sexual encounter, with a girl called Lily.
Her body, her legs, her waist and hips …
… Her curves, her shape, the way her plump lips would press against the tip of Tim’s c—
Tim opened his eyes again.
He would have to control himself.
This was Armie’s apartment.
And only a few days ago, Armie had spoken to him via a communication device, wired into the corner of the ceiling.
He had watched Tim strip his socked feet bare, through a MacBook camera.
Who’s to say he wasn’t watching now?
Tim didn’t feel comfortable, laying here knowing that if he were to continue with this act, Armie might be viewing it …
… Tim understood Armie’s intentions.
He got the control aspect, the ankle cuff, the safe word …
… Suddenly jizzing into a pillow felt off, not right, an unsure thing to do.
Almost as if ... Tim didn't feel allowed.
So, Tim’s hand slid from out of his underwear and then returned to his side.
Tim sighed heavily as his hard on softened.
He hadn’t cum in over two weeks.
His balls ached.
They felt swollen, sensitive, squashed within his underwear.
He’d need to do something about it soon … Even if he had to ask Armie for permission.
Fuck this, thought Tim.
Do it.
Enjoy yourself.
It’s your body.
Tim thought back to the contract - a document he had read over and over and over and ov …
Not one thing had been written that suggested he was not allowed to masturbate.
This was a foot, tickling, bondage agreement.
‘With a few surprises’, according to one of the final paragraphs.
Right there and then, Tim changed his mind.
He closed his eyes again and thought about Lily.
He slid his hand back under the stretchy white cotton of his Calvin Klein briefs.
He curled his fingers around a re-hardening cock.
He licked his lips and planned out, in his mind, the sort of sex he’d have with Lily, when the Pandemic would be over …
… When things got back to normal …
… When this agreement had ended.
He thought about running his hands through her long, blonde hair …
… Where he’d kiss her on her smooth, naked body.
Tim started to rub his cock.
He thought about her nipples, the quiet noises she made, the way her ass moved whilst Tim fu …
Tim felt the butterflies appear in his stomach.
They increased in numbers.
He’d be ejaculating quicker than he thought.
I need this.
Fuck, this feels incredible.
He thought about Lily’s thighs, the sensitive area at the bottom of her back, how tight she felt …
Tim’s eyes widened as a joyful ache rolled through his hips …
“Timmy … “
Armie’s voice crackled from the communications device wired in the corner of the ceiling.
Tim sat up in shock.
His hand left his underwear.
His cock twitched, his throbbing helm close to eruption.
Tim shivered in maddening anticipation.
He so wanted to touch himself, but at the same time, he so desperately wanted to remain quiet and unresponsive to the electric vibrations in his body, because fuck, he didn’t want Armie to realise what he’d been doing.
He wiped some curls of hair from his eyes as he looked up at the speaker.
“H-hey…” He said, breathlessly.
Armie sounded stern.
“Am I interrupting something?” He asked.
Tim shook his head quickly.
“Uh, no, no … Of, of course not.”
Some static from the speaker filled the silence between them.
“Good … ” Armie said, with caution in his voice, “… Now, grab a shower and get dressed in a fresh pair of underwear … No socks … No sneakers … ”
Tim sat forwards as his ankle strap automatically detached itself, like it did a few days ago.
“Ah, ah-kay…” Tim swung his feet off the bed, “ … Where are you?” He asked, conscious of some pre-cum staining his briefs.
Tim hid everything below his waist with bedsheets.
Another crackle from the ceiling speaker as Armie paused before responding.
“Meet me in the basement,” Armie ordered, “And wear your *least liked* t-shirt … ”
***
Armie hadn’t actually told Tim where the basement could be located within his apartment.
Instead, he allowed Tim to figure it out.
Barefoot, in just a pair of black designer briefs and, as requested, his least liked t-shirt, Tim wondered down into the kitchen and then crept down to the buildings main entrance.
Tim’s least favourite t-shirt was a plain black, curry-stained tee that he’d had for far too long and, in all honesty, was only something he had packed because he’d need something to sleep in.
He rolled the sleeves as he paused by the main glass doors he had opened only a day or so ago, where he took a heavy delivery from a Fed-Ex guy.
A delivery that eventually ended up sending him into mind numbing, ticklish madness, thanks to the tickle tools contained within it.
Tim shook the memory from his head.
For a quiet moment, he simply stood and stared out through the double doors.
It seemed exceptionally silent, out on the other side.
New York, still in lockdown, blew tattered pieces of newspaper along it’s empty roads …
… The scenery worked as another reminder that, if Timmy were to be locked up, it might as well be now.
Tim turned to a rusty metal door on the other side of the narrow lobby.
He pulled the handle down with a creak and then nudged the door open with his shoulder.
Wooden steps lead down into darkness.
Unsure if this even lead to the basement, Tim took one careful foot forward.
He walked down the rickety steps until he could see the faint glow of candle light.
It felt far warmer down here.
Tim flapped the collar of his tee as the humidity pressed against him.
Behind, the basement door creaked shut.
Tim felt panic climb up his throat.
“A-Armie?” He wished he’d sounded more confident when saying Armie’s name.
Tim continued to climb down the steps, despite hearing no response.
His fingertips trailed over rough brick walls,
His feet landed on dust and stones, causing him to wince.
Eventually, he turned a corner, where his eyes landed on the large expanse of the basement.
Wooden beams lifted the ceiling into place.
Each high corner existed as a dark, looming eternity of intensity and worry.
Tim gulped.
Candles were everywhere.
They were on the floor, they sat in holes in the wall, on the beams and in groups, in corners of the room.
Armie stood, shirtless and in just a pair of chinos and loafers.
His nipples were erect, his bulge thick in his trousers.
His arms were folded, his biceps bulging, the candlelight illuminating him and his surroundings a soft, gentle yellow.
From the wooden beam above him, two chains and various lengths of rope dangled.
At the end of the chains, two black, large leather cuffs were attached.
A cold draft blew through the basement.
Tim embraced it - besides the draft, this entire area felt hot and stuffy.
“Welcome to your next session,” Armie opened his arms outward.
Tim took one final step off the stairs where he quietly walked towards Armie.
He looked around behind curls of hair, at the cracks in the ceiling, the cobwebs attached to the beams, and chains dangling above his head.
“This feels …” Tim frowned as he searched for the right words, “… This feels different.”
Armie took Tim’s hand and carefully positioned him underneath the beam, fixed ten feet above.
“That’s because this will be different,” Armie explained, lifting Tim’s hand above his head.
Tim’s eyes followed the moves Armie made him do.
He watched Armie attach the leather cuff to Tim’s wrist.
Why did Armie’s last sentence feel like a warning?
“You … You are just … Just gonna ti-tickle me, right?” Tim asked, with a tremble to his voice.
Armie took Tim’s other hand and paused before lifting it above his head.
“No, Timmy. I’m going to eat you alive …”
He kissed Tim’s hand gently and then chuckled into his palm.
Tim laughed nervously.
“Of course I’m just going to tickle you,” Armie lifted Tim’s arm above him and cuffed his wrist into place, “But today, I wanted to explore areas … That I may not of explored, as much as I have your feet.”
Tim swallowed down more dry air.
“Fuck, it’s hot in here …” Tim huffed, whilst realising he’d now be standing on tip toes, “Why are we doing this down here? Why can’t we jus—“
Armie held Tim’s jaw with a firm grip.
“—You ask too many questions, kid.”
Tim felt Armie’s thumb and fingers squash his cheeks together.
“Ish becush I’m curiosh,” Tim managed to say.
Armie kept his hand in place.
“Fuck, you’re adorable,” Armie commented, before sliding his hand away from Tim’s jaw, where it then dropped to dangle by his side.
Tim readjusted his mouth.
He glanced upwards, at the padded leather cuffs and the dangling rope.
His arms were now tied and stretched high above him.
He had been fixed in a position where he felt like he’d constantly be reaching up, until this ordeal would be over.
He could sway his arms a little, and tip toe to the left and right, but he otherwise stood in a restricted and slightly uncomfortable dangle.
Sweat had already started to form over Tim’s forehead.
Armie, also presenting a layer of sweat due to the muggy heat presenting itself within this basement, took a silk handkerchief from his chino pocket.
He damped his own forehead, but did not touch Tim’s.
Tim bit his lip in frustration.
He could feel sweat trickle down the arch of his back, between the thin material of his least like tee.
His once throbbing cock, now limp in his briefs, sat squashed between two clammy balls.
“Why … Is it so damn … Warm?” Tim let another question leave his lips breathlessly.
Armie carefully held onto Tim’s waist, to stop him swaying on the spot.
He’d need him still, to successfully play out his intentions.
“This apartment building was built in 1902 … The basement we’re in now would’ve been the quarters for service staff, maids and the like … “ Armie explained, as he gently trailed fingertips upwards, to Tim’s sides.
Tim twisted in Armie’s grasp.
The chains clinked and clanked above.
“Wait …” Tim muttered, “.. H-hang on a second …”
“The air-con here, before I moved in, hadn’t been updated since the 70’s. It’s all state of the art now, of course - but I wasn’t allowed to fit it down here … “ Armie increased some pressure, now dancing his fingers over Tim’s ribcage as if it were a piano, “ … So you’ll have to deal with the heat.”
Tim jittered under Armie’s fingertips, gasping and tip toeing backward in an attempt to escape the attacks.
“No, h-hold on … H-hold on a minute,” Tim protested.
Armie loved how quickly Tim gave up.
“Too damn ticklish to not beg, not even for the first two minutes …” Armie left Tim’s sides and turned his back to him, “… That’s why I love working with you like this, Tim. Your a tickler’s dream.”
Tim lowered his head as he took a compliment he never expected to hear in his lifetime.
His shoulders were starting to ache.
As Armie turned away from Tim, Tim noticed a sharp pair of material cutting scissors poking out of the back of Armie’s chino pocket.
Armie’s hand slid behind his back and into the chino pocket, where his fingers curled around the black, plastic handle of the scissors.
Tim couldn’t help but hide some genuine concern.
Here he stood, arms tied above his head, upper body stretched out in front of someone Tim thought was just a standard, normal guy …
… Someone Tim now knew as a person with some extreme fetishes.
… Someone who had recently explained that tickling was their biggest kink, but also just *one* of their many urges.
Armie had explained that one of the other urges had been pain.
Tim tip toed from left to right nervously.
“Uhh … W-what are … What are the scissors f—“
Armie spun on his heels and turned to face Tim, with the elegance of a dancer.
With scissors in hand, he smiled politely.
“Don’t worry, Tim - I’m not going to stab you.”
Tim sighed heavily in relief.
Armie smirked - Tim was far too trusting.
“But, I am going to cut …” Armie pointed the scissors at Tim’s chest.
“W-what?” Tim tip toed back again.
Armie approached Tim slowly.
With one hand, he gathered the chest area material of Tim’s t-shirt in his grasp…
… Tim held his breath.
“No, Armie, stop, wait, please, hang on, what are you —“
With the other hand, Armie pierced a hole in Tim’s t-shirt, using the scissors.
Tim peered down to see the blades cut through the cotton.
Armie pocketed the scissors and then, with both hands, he ripped Tim’s t-shirt open.
The sound of the tear echoed out into the basement.
Tim’s eyes widened.
His chest, revealed.
His stomach, sides and armpits, still hidden by the tee.
“What the fu—“
Armie placed his index finger over Tim’s lips.
Then, he circled around Tim as the hard on in his chino’s continued to grow.
He eventually arrived back at Tim’s front.
Armie eyed up Tim’s chest.
“Not one spec of hair …” he commented.
Tim felt sweat gather in his curls.
He wished he’d had some water, before arriving down here.
“I uh … ” Tim kept his eyes on Armie, “… I thought this was like, I mean, I, I thought you were mostly ... Ma, ma, mainly into feet and s—“
Once again, Armie interrupted Tim.
“— I am,” he confirmed, “But you, Tim … You … *Ignite* desires within me that I didn’t think I had … “
Armie took his fingers to Tim’s nipples.
He slowly began to circle around them.
This didn’t tickle at first, but the longer it went on for, the more sensitive it felt.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut and clamped down his teeth, displaying a wall of white between his mouth.
“Aghh,” he tried to twist away from Armie, “Aghhh!”
Armie kept Tim in place by pinching Tim’s nipples with each of his index fingers and thumbs.
“AGH!” Tim looked down at his nipples, hard and contained between Armie’s grasp, “Fuck! That hurts,” He admitted.
Armie smiled as he increased the hardness of his grip.
Tim threw his head backwards.
“Aghhh …” He took in a large breath and then shouted a loud, sudden, “FUUCCK.”
Armie let go as Tim’s shout echoed out around them.
Tim had lifted himself up on his toes, at the height of the sensitivity …
… Where he then dropped back down in shaking relief.
“No, that’s … That’s not cool …” Tim wiped an itch away from his nose by rubbing it against his arm, “… That … That wasn’t tickling.”
Armie looked flirtatiously at Tim.
“You couldn’t take it…?” He asked.
Tim didn’t want to sound like a pussy, so soon into the session.
“I can take it,” He lifted his head, “I just told you, I’d need to warm up to stuff l-l-like that.”
Fuck, thought Tim.
If it weren’t for the stumble at the end, I would’ve sounded 100% confident.
Armie accepted Tim’s reservations and once again, he turned away from him.
He walked into the corner of the basement, where he became consumed by darkness, to the point where he completely disappeared.
A few seconds later, Armie returned with a familiar looking bottle of baby oil.
Tim eyed the baby oil as if it were acid.
He knew the liquid in that bottle had the power to increase his ticklish by 40%, at least.
And it headed straight toward him.
Armie unscrewed the bottles cap and then placed the bottle down on the concrete.
He pulled the scissors back out from his chino’s pocket and with one hand, he grabbed the waist band of Tim’s briefs and held him in place.
With the other hand, he cut into the already torn open hole.
The blades sliced downwards, cutting Tim’s black, curry-stained t-shirt fully open.
Now, the material hung over his shoulders like a loose waistcoat.
Still, Tim’s armpits were hidden, however his chest, nipples, stomach and sides were exposed.
Tim tip toed to the left,
And he tip toed to the right.
Armie felt the excitement grow deep within him.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back.
There mere sight of Tim’s soft skin, his small belly button, his delicate rib cage …
… His now sore nipples …
... Armie still couldn't quite believe his luck.
He picked up the bottle of baby oil and casually dribbled it over Tim’s torso.
For once, Tim welcomes the oil. It was cold, refreshing, a break from the muggy atmosphere surrounding him.
Armie felt his mouth water as he watched the glistening liquid rolled over Tim’s abs and chest.
Droplets fell from his nipples and stained the material of his Calvin Klein briefs.
Tim witnessed a demonic grin spread across Armie’s face.
This side of Armie, the Dom, the controller, the sexual predator, had now fully taken over.
The friend he shared pizza and beers with some days ago had been shelved, for now.
Armie placed the bottle back down on the floor and then, slowly and gradually, he began to massage the liquid into Tim’s upper body.
Tim squirmed on the spot.
Armie’s fingers, gliding over Tim’s ribs and around the outsides of his pecs, felt too ticklish to handle.
He began to writhe around in Armie’s baby-oil-covered grasp.
He slipped and slid under Armie’s fingers and palms.
“No, fuck,” Tim spun on the spot as Armie continued to rub and tickle the baby oil into areas of his waist and sides, “No fu-huh-huh-huh-hahaha-hahaha-huhhcckkkkk! Huhahaha, fuckfuckfuck! Nohuhhhhahaha fufhuhuhuhfffhuhuhufffffhucccckkkk!”
Armie jibbed and jabbed, stroked and pressed, rubbed and prodded, all whilst Tim giggled hysterically under his hands.
“Staaa-aha-ahahaa-aaaahhhhhhp! Stahhhppp!” Tim began to lose his breath as he bounced around on his toes, “…I thoughahahahaha-ahahhhtt tthissss was just a foot thing! Just fee-eeee-eeee-eeheheheeeeet!”
Armie, once satisfied with the baby oils application, took a careful step away from Tim’s shining body.
Tim’s giggles faded into coughs, and then the coughs spluttered into breathless silence.
“Just feet?” Asked Armie, “You thought I’d be tickling … *just* … Your feet?”
Armie tilted his head.
Tim cleared his throat and wiped another itch away from his nose, using his shoulder.
“I .. I uh, I d-d-don’t know,” Tim licked away a dryness on his lips, “I thought… I, I just assumed … I don’t know if I’m … *Ready* … For …”
Armie chuckled.
Tim always sounded like he’d ran up two flights of stairs, after being tickled.
“So breathless,” Armie cracked his knuckles, “So ticklish.”
Tim swallowed down worry for what would be coming next.
Armie took the scissors back out from his chino’s and this time, he cut away the entirety of Tim’s t-shirt.
The black material fell down at Tim’s feet, exposing the full, bare extent of his upper body.
Armie’s jaw dropped.
He pocketed the scissors and then he quietly approached Tim.
His eyes fell on Tim’s armpits.
With his arms tied above him, Tim’s pits were now fully displayed.
The flesh inside looked smooth and soft … Tim’s armpit hair, a faint brown colour, existed as little tufts protruding from the centre of his pits …
… The heat had made them a little wet, the skin a little sweaty …
… Armie could smell them from here.
“A work of art,” Armie commented.
Tim followed Armie’s eyes.
He looked down at each of his armpits, then back at Armie.
“You… You have a th-thing for armpits too?” He asked.
Armie stood silent in admiration.
“I have a thing for *everything*, Timmy …”
Tim nodded slowly in understanding.
What a stupid question, he thought to himself.
Armie took a step closer to Tim.
He lifted his hands, clawed his fingers and readied himself to attack Tim’s pits.
Tim squeezed his eyes shut, as if ready for an explosion, or a shot to the head.
Nothing.
Tim opened one eye.
Armie held his hands in place.
“Are they ticklish?” He asked.
Tim opened both eyes, overly aware of how exposed and mostly-naked he felt, chained here in just his briefs.
“No … ” Tim laughed, “They’re, they’re actually the *least* ticklish area on my body,” He nodded downwards, “Go uh, go somewhere else …” Tim acted up, “ … Tickle my knees, or my back, or uh, my elbows … ” He half laugh, half cried at his maddened attempt at compromising.
Armie chuckled and relaxed his claw like position.
“I guess we’ll have to test it out …” Armie announced.
“Ahh fuck, no … ” Tim shook his head, “ … No need to test …” Armie’s fingers started to play with Tim’s armpit hair, “… NO NEED TO TEST,” Tim screamed.
Armie wrapped his arms around Tim’s upper body and then, with the help of the slippery-ness of the baby oil, he slid around Tim so that his face pressed against the warmth of Tim’s back.
In this position, he had contained Tim in a bear hug, with his hands resting inches away from Tim’s armpits.
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Tim squealed, “Fuck no!”
Armie then vigorously began to tickle Tim’s armpits with fast moving fingers.
Tim thrashed his head back and fourth.
He jumped up and down and screamed into the darkness of the basement ceiling above.
Armie’s arm’s kept him in place as the tickling continued.
“FUCKKKKK, FUC—HUHUH-HAHAHAAAAAAACKKK, NO, NOOOOOO! NO. NO. NO, PLEAASEAHHHA-HAH-HA-HA-HAAA GGODDDDD!”
Tim screamed so loud he thought his throat would rip.
His back slid up and down Armie’s face.
His legs flayed outward, as if they were on fire.
Armie closed his eyes and grinned as he pushed Timmy to mind numbing intensity, his fingers digging into the sweaty depths of Timmy’s pits with an aggressive strength.
Tim’s feet came off the floor.
He tried to twist himself around and kick at Armie, but Armie’s stiff and steady-standing position kept Tim exactly where he wanted him.
Tim felt his brain go past the coping state.
The tickling was a different sort of torture, compared to his feet.
The painful, tormenting hysteria continued into the depths of his pits as his eyes filled with tears and snot blew from his nostrils.
He became a stuttering, heaving, breathless piece of meat, dangling there with his hands chained above his head, unable to do anything but kick,
Twist,
Spin,
Scream,
Swear,
Shout and protest.
Armie’s fingers slid around Tim’s now sweat-soaked armpit hair as they continued to invade the hot caverns between his chest and arms.
Tim’s curls stuck to his head.
His body shimmered with a mixture of body moisture, baby oil and candle light.
He insanely bellowed out a mixture of manic laughter and desperate crying, as Armie continued to penetrate an area so viscerally sensitive …
… That Tim thought he might have to say the safe word.
A safe word, up until this moment in time, he hadn’t said once.
New York, thought Tim, as the tickling continued.
JUST FUCKING SAY IT.
“I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE," came out instead.
Tim tried to beg Armie to stop but his words came out in dribbled gibberish, his mouth clenched in maddening grins, his fingers curling tightly around the leather cuffs attached to his wrists …
… Yes, a foot up to Armie’s waist!
And then, a heavy kick.
Tim managed to squirm so hard that he got the chance to push Armie away.
His heel flew through Armie’s stomach, where he repeatedly kicked outward in an attempt to shove his relentless tickler away from his armpits.
Armie stubbornly stayed, until the final kick sent him staggering back.
“Ooft!”
Armie held his side and stumbled away into the darkness.
Tim hung red faced, his armpits raw and tingling.
He now dangled, so sweaty it looked like someone had thrown a bucket of water over him.
Armie stumbled back out of the darkness, winded, and holding his hand over a now developing bruise.
“Too far?” He asked, conscious that Tim had to resort to physical defence, just to get Armie to stop.
Tim tried to suck up some dribble leaving his lower lip, but he failed, and it drooped down onto his chest.
He could barely speak, so instead of trying to answer Armie verbally, he simply nodded.
Armie hunched over his knees and laughed outward in pure pleasure.
“Wow!” He declared, “That was incredible…!”
Tim felt droplets of sweat, or baby oil, he wasn’t sure, gather over his eyebrows.
Armie stood back up and clapped his hands, applauding Tim.
Tim mustered up the energy to use his voice, a voice that came out in a trembled croak.
“Can … Can it be … Be over?” He asked.
Armie shook his head, whilst wiping some of his own sweat from his upper lip.
This session was pretty physical for Armie, too.
“No,” He replied, almost too casually.
Tim’s head hung over his chest.
He hated how each session made him wish he had never signed on the dotted line.
But here he was, tied physically and literally, to a contract he wish he’d never laid eyes on.
“Damn …” Tim stared at the floor in disbelief, “ … I, I can’t take this,” He admitted, “I, I can’t handle this …”
Armie breathed in some of the hot air around him as he slowly approached Tim.
His hand gently cupped Tim’s balls.
They felt large and swollen, warm and round, squashed within Tim’s briefs.
“Is this what you want, instead?” Asked Armie.
Tim turned his head upward, where his eyes focused on the chains, ropes and basement ceiling beams above him.
As candle light continued to flicker, Tim shook his head.
“No. Y-you … You know I’m … I’m not ready for …”
Armie began to stroke Tim’s cock, through his underwear.
Tim shivered slightly.
Helplessly and without being able to control his reaction, Tim began to harden.
He longed to explode, like had had tried to earlier this morning.
“Are you sure?” Armie asked.
Tim had been in this position with Armie once before.
Pushed to his limits, unable to verbalise words, tickled beyond belief …
… And then lead into the suggestion of sexual activity, just so the torment would stop.
Last time, Tim let it begin, because he felt so desperate for the torture to end.
Although moments later, he asked Armie to pause.
Now, a similar moment has arisen.
This time, Tim felt aroused, not because of an attraction to Armie or the situation, but because he hadn’t had the chance to cum in so long …
… Tim’s cock now sat fully hard within his Calvin Kleins.
His eyes closed and his lips parted open.
“I’m shhh … Shhh… Sure …” Tim swallowed down regret and uncertainty.
Armie wanted Tim to be ready.
He wanted Tim to beg him …
… Beg him to *let* him cum.
The moment would happen, just not today.
Armie’s hand slid away from Tim’s balls.
“You seemed to want it this morning …” Armie turned away from Timmy.
Tim opened his eyes slowly.
“You *were* watching me …”
Armie walked around Tim with folded arms.
“Correct. I saw how horny you were, after waking up. I could tell you just wanted to masturbate, just like any other twenty three year old guy … Why didn’t you?”
Tim had now fully caught his breath.
On tip toes still, he swayed from side to side slowly.
“It’s your apartment … I felt, I don’t know … “ Tim huffed, “…Awkward, I, I guess.”
Armie arrived at Tim’s back, where he trailed an index finger gently over Tim’s spine.
Tim bit his lower lip.
“I must admit,” Armie spoke with a gentle tone, “I would’ve been disappointed. This isn’t your home, and… There’s a time and place, for that sort of thing.”
Tim watched Armie arrive back at his front.
‘Why … Why didn’t you just say that, before …?” Tim couldn’t hide the frustration in his voice, “You enjoy seeing me struggle, right? Isn’t that what all of this is about?”
Armie unfolded his arms.
“Of course,” Armie had no shame in revealing that, “I mean, I practically edged you this morning, without even being in the room.”
Tim felt an overwhelming sense of domination.
Without realising, his thoughts and actions were being controlled by Armie, sometimes without Armie being physically present.
Right now, for Tim, Armie existed as power, personified.
Tim could do nothing but lower his head.
Armie took a step closer.
He took his fingers to Tim’s sides and gently began to draw circles around his ribcage.
Tim arched his back, unintentionally pressing his body forwards and therefore offering Armie more ticklish flesh to devour.
“I allowed you to get close - so close, I could practically see the tip of your cock expand …” Armie took a firm grip to Tim’s waist, in an attempt to keep him still, “... And then, I spoke into the speaker, and you had no choice but to stop.”
Tim glared at Armie as his fingers curled around the leather restraints above.
“Stop it,” Tim hissed.
“Stop what?” Armie teased.
“Stop… Fucking with me. The tickling, I can just about handle … But who says you get to, to control how I —“
“—Because you’re living in my home,” Armie butted in, “And if you’re going to remain as my friend, and if you’re going to remain in this agreement, you’ll respect the fact that I don’t want you masturbating as and when you please …”
Armie’s hands left Tim’s waist and began to dance back up his rib cage.
Tim growled and tried to lift himself upward, by pulling on the wrist restraints.
The tips of his toes slid across the concrete as Tim managed to block Armie’s attacks with his own elbows.
“Unless you say?” Tim asked through gritted teeth.
“Unless I say,” Armie confirmed, pulling Tim back down, so that his armpits were fully exposed once again.
Tim needed this money, more than anything.
One week had nearly been done - he could handle another three.
And by the sounds of it, masturbation would take place, but it would only happen when Armie would allow it - and the fairer Tim played, the sooner that moment would arrive.
For Armie, this was his way at gradually leading Tim into a space where he not only would feel confident to allow another man edge him to orgasm, but he wouldn’t have a choice -but- to allow it …
… He’d be far too horny, his balls far too swollen, to wait a second longer.
Armie smiled.
His eyes trailed over Tim’s drenched armpits, down his shimmering chest and over his smooth belly button.
Ticklish perfection.
A body, too sensitive to handle this form of torture, but bound here anyway …
… And now with the intention to climb up to the beam above, if he were desperate enough.
Armie curled his hand around Tim’s neck.
Tim felt his Adam’s apple squash into the back of his throat.
This would be how Armie would keep Tim in place.
With his other hand, Armie began to slowly tickle Tim’s left, exposed armpit.
Tim caught his tongue in-between his teeth and shook his body around, as if he were being electrocuted.
Armie’s fingers curled around wet armpit hair, they slid over soft, plump flesh, they clawed up Tim’s forearm and down into his pit.
Tim’s head thrashed from side to side, but Armie’s grip kept the rest of him fixed still.
Armie watched Tim’s arms flail about as much as they could.
He hardened at the sight of such ticklish armpits receiving such viscerally unbearable torture.
“Have you ever been tickled like this before, Tim?” Armie asked, breathlessly.
His hand left Tim’s neck and then, he gagged Tim by clasping his palm over his mouth.
“MFFmmph, Nophh…” Tim managed.
“Is that a no?” Asked Armie, as he continued to invade Tim’s pit with one hand.
“MPHHH!”
Tim’s ‘No’ sounded loud and felt hot and wet, within the confines of Armie’s palm.
“Do you want it to stop?” Asked Armie.
“MMMPHH, MPMMMFFT!”
Armie now sent his fingers up and down Tim’s left side, as well as into his armpit.
Tim’s body twisted and spun in it’s dangled position.
Armie could feel Tim’s mouth and teeth try to clamp down on his palm.
“Ooh, biting!” Armie grinned, “You are desperate …”
Tim growled into Armie’s hand as saliva rolled from his lips.
“Beg me,” Armie ordered, “Beg me, and I might stop …”
Tim didn’t hesitate.
“PLEAAMPHH, PLEAAAAAMPHH, STOPMPPHH!” Tim screamed into Armie’s hand.
Armie allowed Tim to continue to beg, as he continued to tickle.
“Stop what?” Armie asked, removing his hand from Tim’s mouth.
He now used both hands to tickle Tim’s sides and pits.
“PLEASE!” Tim cried, his face red and swollen, “PLEASE, S-STOP TICKLING ME!”
“Tickling you where?” He asked.
Tim almost burst into tears.
“MY ARMPITS MY SIDES MY FUCKING BODY EVERYWHERE JUST FUCKING STOP!”
Armie decreased the speed of his attacks, where he gently wiggled his fingers over Tim’s stomach and down to his waist …
… They tickled over his belly button and then down to the waist band of his briefs.
Tim coughed out into the muggy basement air as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Armie’s hand rested on Tim’s limp cock.
“You’re aching for it, aren’t you?” Asked Armie.
Tim, with his head hanging over his shoulders, could only nod.
Armie allowed his ticklee to catch his breath as he massaged Tim’s cock with his fingers.
Despite feeling so ruined, just the touch from someone else made Tim’s cock Harden a little.
Armie used his other hand to wipe tears, sweat and dribble from Tim’s face.
He then placed his palms over Tim's chest.
For a few seconds, he allowed Tim to think the session had ended.
And then he walked quietly around Tim, now standing behind him.
He curled his arm around Tim's waist, pinning him in position.
"Fuck," Tim wheezed, "No, no ..."
Armie then sent his free hand up to Tim's left armpit, where he continued his invasion.
Tim twisted and spun, squirmed and kicked madly as Armie's fingers penetrated his ticklish pit.
They danced up and down his sides, they tickled his ribcage and waist, they trailed violently over his chest and into his right pit, where the tickling persisted there.
Tim's eyes widened, his eyebrows lifted, his forehead creased.
He heaved out pure hysteria, breathing in deeply, to then heave outward once again.
Armie had lost Tim, as a person.
This form of tickle torture turned the 'lee into a insane mess.
A face, bright red - veins, thick with pumping blood.
Laughter, mainly mixed with screaming and shouting, or, at some points, general release of air in the form of noise.
The chains clanked as Tim's feet flew about in the warm air.
Armie continued, hard and fast.
"NO PLEASE GOD JESUS FUCKING CHRIST STOP NOW I CAN'T TAKE IT THIS IS INSANE I CAN'T EVEN BREATHE ARMIE PLEASE GOD FUCKING JESUS CHRIST JUST ST..."
Tim's begging had reached fever pitch.
And all Armie could do, with a sadistic smile, was ignore it.
Tim lost his mind.
He fell into panic.
He wondered if the constant attack would ever end.
Tim had no choice but to get nasty.
Tired of throwing his head back and fourth, exhausted from screaming and begging for his life, he instead threw out loud, angry shouts in a desperate attempt for the tickling to end.
"FUCK YOU, YOU FUCK, FUCK YOU, FUCKING STOP YOU FUCKING BASTARD."
Armie stopped straight away.
Tim's tone suggested pure, agonising anguish.
It wasn't a plea or an ask, it was a solid cry for help.
Armie's tickles turned to smooth, soft strokes.
And then, he started to massage Tim's shoulders.
Tim closed his eyes.
His lips were fat, his throat completley saw.
Tim tried to speak, but he had lost his voice.
Armie couldn't help but trail fingers over armpit hair, still wanting to torture Tim, still wanting to remind him that he was in control.
Tim flapped his arms.
"NO," he shouted.
Armie took his palms over Tim's sides and down to his hips.
He lay them there for a few seconds whilst Tim caught his breath.
Then, he walked around Tim and began to detach the leather cuffs around Tim’s wrists.
The right arm was first - his hand landed by his side heavily as his right foot flattened out on the concrete.
The left arm next - his hand landed in the same way, his body now standing in an exhausted, sweating state.
Tim stared down at his torn t-shirt on the floor, whilst he rubbed his sides and red-raw pits.
Armie could sense defeat in the young man, an awareness within him that suggested the session had been too much ...
Tim looked violated.
Armie took a step toward him and lifted Tim’s head by tapping his chin.
Tim’s eyes met with Armie’s.
Armie glanced down at Tim's underwear, and then returned his gaze to Tim's bloodshot orbs.
“It’ll be soon, kid …” Armie reassured, “… Don’t worry about that.”
Tim couldn’t believe he’d been freed.
He couldn't believe the session was over.
He pressed the top of his head into Armie’s chest.
Armie, surprised by Tim’s horse-like movement, opened up his arms and took his friend in.
Tim fell into Armie’s body.
Armie hugged Tim tightly, allowing the boys slim frame to weight into him.
Had he pushed Tim too far?
Were his tickle attacks on Tim’s pits too aggressive?
“You okay, Tim?” Armie asked.
Tim nodded into Armie’s chest hair.
“Yeah,” he sniffed, “That was just … It was really … I found that i-intense.”
Armie squeezed further into the hug, and then he held onto Tim’s shoulders and positioned him directly in front of him.
"A different kind of tickling?" Armie asked.
Tim nodded.
"I've ... I've never felt that way, b-before."
Armie felt his cock twitch at the sound of something like that leaving Tim's mouth.
"You went to a different space, didn't you?"
Tim nodded once again.
“You did good, Tim …" Armie let go of Tim's moist shoulders, "... More than good, actually. You should be impressed.”
Tim chuckled and wiped his nose.“Th-thanks…”
Armie tidied Tim’s wet curls of hair and then flicked his eyes to the stairs leading up to the apartment.
“Get yourself a shower, have a think about what food you’ll want for this evening. Whatever you desire, your wish is my command.”
Tim wrapped his arms around himself.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to be on the set of Dune.
He wanted to be in the bath, reading over the script for The French Dispatch.
… He didn’t care what take away he got with Armie tonight, or what tomorrow’s session would entail, or the one after that.
Tim wanted to cum.
He left the basement, destroyed, and a little unsure of when he’d be able to relieve himself from the throbbing ache in his balls.
Would it happen in a few days, the weekend … Next week?
Could he sort himself out in the privacy of the shower?
Would there be a camera in there, too?
Would Armie punish him further, if he found out Tim had gone against his wishes?
Tim wasn’t sure he could take another session focused on just his pits.
Tim got back to his bedroom with a flood-full of questions in his head,
The need to go home bigger than ever,
A semi-hard cock that looked to stay that way for a while …
… And fingernail marks decorating his sides and armpits.
As he sat on the bed, Tim sighed.
Things had most certainly levelled up.
TCTLR continues in Chapter Eleven - ‘Power Cut’ …