CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - ‘THE TRIAL, PART TWO’
CHALLENGE TWO
Timothée stood in Sub Zero with his hands behind his back, his bare feet a metre or so apart and with sweat now drying over his curls of tasselled hair.
His dungarees and the remains of his socks sat discarded on the basement floor one level above.
He still wore his grey sweater, once damp and now dry, with Calvin Klein briefs and the dog collar around his neck.
Armie arrived behind Tim, whispering into the back of his neck as both young men stared at the elements before them, elements that would make up the second challenge of The Trial.
“How did that first challenge make you feel, Timothée?” Armie moved around Tim, his slither silent and observed.
Tim stared at two chains hanging from the ceiling, leather cuffs attached to each of their ends, where they dangled around two feet above the floor.
Underneath those and a little to the side stood another wooden chair, with another white medium sized box placed on it, this time with the number ‘2’ inscribed in black ink on its lid.
Surrounding those items, the white, cold, clinically empty expanse of Sub Zero.
Tim curled his toes, their long length lifting away from the reflective floor.
“I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t see, I could barely speak,” Tim wasted no time in describing his experience, mostly because he sincerely knew the answer to Armie’s question, “It was one of the most intense sessions we’ve done …”
Armie approached the dangling cuffs, leash in one hand, silver pair of scissors in the other.
“One of the most intense sessions … yet … ” he corrected, pulling Tim along gently with the leash.
Tim swallowed down, his throat bobbing behind the leather of the collar, his eyes not leaving the chains as Armie led him towards the hanging bondage.
Suddenly, Armie yanked the leash towards his chest.
Tim found himself arriving toe to toe with Armie in a clumsy stumble, his face looking up at his ticklers.
In the silence of Sub Zero, with the collar still tightly buckled around his neck, Tim closed his eyes and received a kiss from Armie directly on the lips.
Armie pocketed the scissors.
He spoke into Tim’s mouth, now holding the leash with both hands.
“Sit on the floor,” he whispered.
Armie took one single step away, his lips leaving Tim’s for the foreseeable future.
Tim watched Armie’s physical presence change from soft and gentle to stern and cold.
He hoped Armie would remain just at that point, he hoped he wouldn’t venture further into the far sadistic Armie that Tim had witnessed whilst hogtied.
Tim dropped his shoulders, fully aware now more than ever that his hopes might be squashed.
He sat down on the floor in the cross legged position.
Armie laid the leash down beside Tim and then provided his next instruction.
“Lay on your back.”
Tim did as asked, laying down on his back, this time relieved he had a sweater on considering how cold Sub Zero’s floor felt through the thick cotton.
Armie then knelt down, picking up Tim’s right foot by his right ankle.
He lifted up Tim’s right leg, securing his ankle into one of the hanging cuffs.
Tim stared into the ceiling, his green eyes reflecting the bright white lights above.
“Oh shit,” he muttered.
Armie chuckled as he took Tim’s left leg, attaching his left ankle to the second hanging cuff.
“You starting to put two and two together, kid?”
Tim nodded slowly, both ankles now attached to the hanging chains dangling two feet above him.
“This is uh, this is going to be —“
“—Exceptional,” Armie interrupted, standing up and casually strolling to an area of Sub Zero’s left wall, his hand brushing over a sensor hidden somewhere at waist level, “Like I said, my intention was always to make The Trial … Difficult, for you … That’s why they’re called challenges, Tim. They’re meant to be challenging…”
A square section of the wall slid upward, revealing an inside lined entirely with red velvet.
Sitting in its middle - a tiny black remote.
Tim dropped his mouth, confident enough within himself to admit that he was wrong, “I uh, I really thought I’d get through the last one without saying my safe word. I know I’ve done it before, I guess that’s what made me think I could do it again …” Tim frowned, “... But I almost did say it. I almost did fuck up…” Tim looked up at Armie, “... You, you really do know what you’re doing, don’t you …”
Armie turned away from the wall and approached Tim slowly, remote in hand.
“You’re a pro at scrambled eggs…” Armie narrowed his eyes, pressing his thumb down over the only button on the remote's surface, “… I’m a pro at this.”
Clank!
Suddenly, the chains and cuffs attached to Tim’s ankles began to lift upwards.
Tim shot frantic looks from left to right as his body started to slide across the smooth, crisp white floor, his legs now slowly pulled up by chains disappearing into slots in the ceiling.
Clank, clank, clank …
The clanking noise continued as Tim reached out for Armie, his body now fully leaving the floor, the chains lifting him into an upside down, hanging position.
“Yo! Wait, wait a sec, fuck, this, give me a chance to, I, I, I—“
Armie kept his thumb on the remote’s button, pressing down hard, allowing Tim to be lifted so that his curls of hair hung around a foot and a half above the ground.
Armie pocketed the remote, the clanking noise coming to a stop.
Tim dangled, confused and swaying, his knees unable to bend, his sweater now victim to gravity and hanging over his head, exposing his body from the waist up.
Armie felt his erection grow beneath his tracksuit bottoms as he took in Tim’s bare waist, his hips, his toned stomach, his hard nipples and pits …
The sweater covered the lower part of Tim’s face and most of his arms and shoulders … A situation Armie intended to keep there on purpose.
Armie knew that the sweater hanging in such a way, revealing Tim’s bare torso, would be driving Tim into a state of concern … A thought proven right by how quickly Tim attempted to grab at the hem of his sweater, where he pulled it as far towards his waist as he possibly could.
Armie picked up the leash.
He stepped back, pulling the leash and Tim along with it, closer towards him.
Tim winced, the collar around his neck yanking him through the air, the tightness of the cuffs around his ankles pinching into his skin.
“Fuck, damn—“ Tim clawed at the collar, by doing so he had no choice but to let go of his sweater, which fell back over his head, further exposing his stomach and sides.
Tim used one hand to adjust the collar whilst using his other hand to pull down his sweater.
Armie chuckled, letting go of the leash, where Tim swung back into his dangled position, the momentum of his weight causing him to twirl a little.
There he swayed from side to side, his frustration at the sweater’s refusal to stay in place getting the better of him.
Tim sighed in defeat, his face red with all the blood that had travelled into his skull, his hands now dangling above his head, the sweater falling back over his jaw, his stomach entirely on show.
He went to mouth the word ‘crap’, but he bit his lip instead.
Armie folded his arms, admiring Tim in his upside down, hanging position.
“Comfortable, Timmy?”
Tim felt his eyes water.
Hanging like this had now caused almost all of his bodily fluids to reach the tip of his head.
“Sure,” Tim spoke casually, as if his circumstance wasn’t extraordinary in the slightest, “How did you guess that this is my favourite way to hang out?"
Armie tightened his arms across his chest.
“Good to see you can still maintain a sense of humour …” Armie stepped towards Tim, jabbing an index finger into his right side, just under his pec, “… Considering how vulnerable you currently are …”
Tim jolted, immediately bringing his hands up to grab at Armie’s.
Armie yanked his hands away from Tim’s and then went back into a firm position of standing still, with his arms folded.
“Listen carefully, because this challenge is simple,” Armie announced, “Just like upstairs, you aren’t allowed to use your safe word … However this time, you also aren’t allowed to try and stop me with your hands …”
Tim closed his eyes as Armie finished his explanation.
“... Touch me in any shape or form, like you just did? You fail.”
Tim stretched out his fingers, opening his eyes, his vision now blurring - making an upside-down-shaped Armie even harder to locate as he swung gently from side to side.
“Oh, oh-kay, yeah, I, I c-can do that …”
Armie tilted his head.
“Can you?”
Tim pulled his sweater back over his body.
“What? You’re telling me I have a damn choice?” Tim’s cry left his mouth in a high pitched shrill.
Armie chuckled, taking a few steps back where he picked up the second box from the chair.
“Yeah, you really don’t."
He pulled away the lid, retrieving a single tool from inside.
He kept the tool hidden from Tim whilst placing the box down on the floor.
He then picked out the egg timer, placing this on the floor also, directly under Tim’s head.
He twisted it to one hour.
Ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
Armie then dragged the chair across Sub Zero’s squeaky clean floor, positioning it behind Tim’s shoulders.
Armie stepped onto the chair.
At this new height, Armie faced Tim’s rear.
He kept the tickle tool in one hand whilst sliding his other hand into his tracksuit pocket.
Pulling out the silver scissors, he carefully began to cut Tim’s underwear away from his body.
Tim winced, shooting a wide eyed stare up to Armie.
“Fuck, come on! You planning on cutting off all of my damn clothes?”
Armie shrugged, slicing through the cotton until it tore in half.
“You have a credit card now and an upcoming payment of ten million dollars, you can afford replacements …”
Armie yanked Tim’s underwear off of him.
Tim gasped, his balls and cock now falling into a casual dangle around the bottom of his stomach, his bare ass cheeks exposed …
“Holy shit … No, come, come on …” Tim arrived at a dire realisation, his eyes squeezing shut, “Anywhere else, Armie, you, you did that spot the other day, go someplace else, not, not the toes but, maybe my, my … Just not my, my–”
“—Your taint?” Armie teased, “Is that a problem?”
Tim bit into both of his fists, shaking his head in frustration.
“No, please, Armie, man, come on, fuck, you, you know I can’t take it th—“
“—Begging already?” Armie teased, taking the chosen tickle tool closer to Tim’s behind, “I’ve not even started …”
Tim bit harder into his hands as the feeling of a feather began to brush against the hyper sensitive, silky smooth area between his thighs.
“No, shit, oh, oh shit, oh shit! Damn, please, go, go easy Armie, at least go, go eeeeeeeeeeeeee!—“
Armie brushed the feather over Tim’s taint in a repetitive saw whilst using his other hand to tickle into Tim’s stomach.
Tim’s delivery of the word ‘easy’ just stretched out into a long scream, his face already creased with mania, despite it being so soon into the session.
Tim contained an additional scream, biting into both fists once again.
Clamping his teeth into his knuckles felt like a strong enough substitute for naturally reaching up and grabbing at Armie … Something he thought might be easy to not do, however only twelve seconds into the torture and it became quite clear that this might be the most challenging part of The Trial yet.
Tears fell from Tim’s eyes as he reached out to the ground, his fingertips just about brushing against the floor as the feather invaded the hairless, fleshy gap of skin that made up his taint.
“Agh!” Suddenly, an index finger to his rib.
“Fuck!” And then a middle finger into his navel.
“Damnit!” A thumb into his hip …
Armie tickled Tim’s upper body with his right hand, the feather doing the work with his left.
Abruptly, all five fingers of Armie’s right hand began to tickle around Tim’s waist.
Tim reached up, his hands clawing in slow motion towards Armie’s, his brain reminding him such a movement wasn’t allowed.
So he pulled his arms back down, wrapping them around his chest, forcing himself to endure the tickling with wrists unbound.
His torso writhed from side to side, his body now swinging around Armie, who had to stop tickling Tim’s waist and instead use his free arm to wrap around one of Tim’s legs, pinning him in the air.
Tim, now fixed into position, had no choice but to endure the feather currently flickering around his taint and balls.
Tim covered his face with his hands, where he screamed violently into his palms.
Tickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
The egg timer beneath Tim’s head constantly told him the seconds were passing by, but it tormented him also by informing him that he still had fifty minutes left.
“Fuck, fffffuck, fu-huck, fu-huh-huh-huck—” Tim cursed into his hands, dribble staining his palms, “Stop, stop, st-hop, st-hop!”
Tickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
He’s going for my worst spots, Tim thought, his mind stuffed with pressure.
My toes, with the damn string!
And now this fucking shit!
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tim cried the contents of his mind out loud.
Tickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
“I can’t do this,” Tim mumbled breathlessly, “I can’t fucking do this—”
He reached up again, the move so automatic, so uncontrollable …
His fingers flexed out towards the gap between his thighs, his arms straining towards Armie’s flickering feather.
Armie’s eyes widened, the thought of Tim breaking so soon sending aroused chills down his spine.
“Already?” Armie tested, “Wow, you really can’t take it here …”
Tim bit into his knuckles again, forcing his hands back down.
“GOD DAMNIT!” Tim shouted so loud his voice echoed out into Sub Zero.
Armie continued his taunt.
“It’s, it’s really quite unbearable for you, isn’t it, Timmy?”
Tim nodded quickly, his brain starting to doubt if he could stay in this upside down position any longer, even though it had been less than fifteen minutes.
New York.
Say it.
Fuck, say it—
—It’s only just started.
Don’t be a pussy!
You can do this…
“Fuck, damn, ho-holy shit, my god this is, this ehehehe-is fucking insane—“ Tim heaved in air, the itchy, tickling, invasive movement of the feather fluttering around his taint at a now rapid speed, “—ah man I, I, I, I can’t take it, I, I, I gotta tap out—”
Armie twirled the feather between Tim’s thighs, his other arm tightly wrapped around Tim’s leg.
“Tap out now? Goodness. It’s a good job only I know how ticklish this part of your body is … Well, you know what to do, Tim,” Armie urged Tim to say his safe word, or to at least reach out, “Either say the words, or use your hands to stop me … It’s an easy choice …”
Tim hid his face with his hands once again, his body writhing and squirming in its upside down position, his sweater now proving just as irritating as the feather by the way it hung over his jaw, getting in the way of his maddened movements.
“Fuck, man, you’re, you’re a da-aha-ahh-ahaha-aah-aaa-aaamn, damn monster, a damn monster!”
Tim bawled out hysteria, his begging and pleading replaced with manic laughter that seemed to be delivered without a breath between each distorted chuckle.
“Baha-ahahaha-hahaha-ahahahoh-oh-oh-hahaha–”
heave, heave
“--I, I fucking hate you—”
Armie winced internally, hoping Tim’s passionate statement arrived because of demented, tickled-to-insanity-mania and not from deep worded truth.
Tickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
Tim glared at the egg timer, spitting out anger and resentment towards the entire ordeal, his taint far too ticklish, far too sensitive to touch …
“What about it do you dislike the most, Timmy?” Armie had to raise his voice over Tim’s howls, shouts and cries, “Go on, give me details, be specif—“
“—ALL of it, man, fu-huh-huh-ha-ha-ha-huck, FUCK — ALL OF IT—” Tim cried out his reply in a coarse, desperate tone, “I, I, I can’t take being upsi-hi-hi-hi-hide down like this, the fucking, the fucking feather … FUCK, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease sssssssst—”
Armie pursed his lips.
“Oh?” He said.
He twirled the feather between Tim’s butt cheeks, running the sharp yet soft edge over each naked chunk of flesh, “You mean, this feather right here?”
Tim went to reach up again, to hide his rear with the palms of his hands, but he threw his arms back over his head in a forced stretch.
“YESTHATMOTHERFUCKINGFEATHER!” He shouted all at once.
Ticktickticktickticktickticktick …
“So, tap out,” Armie pressed, “You said you were going to … Just do it …”
Tim so desperately wanted to give in, to scream his safe word, now more than during his moment in the basement earlier …
This was a different type of tickling.
It felt violating and tender, so undeniably sensitive and excruciatingly ticklish that it flirted with a feeling Tim could only relate to pure agony.
And then there was the bondage.
Strung up, upside down, with all of the blood in his body now filling his eyeballs, his lips, making them juicy and plump …
Body fluids seeped from the corners of his mouth, out of his nostrils, from his puffy eyelids …
All whilst his sweater hung over his jaw, exposing his torso, taunting the fact that it hung bare and vulnerable for Armie to attack whenever he’d like.
His stomach ached, his abs burned tight, his throat felt stiff and full of air.
“Seriously, man—“
heave, heave
“I can’t deal with this, I, I can’t s-see, I, I, I,”
heave, heave
“I, I can’t, I can’t ev-ev-even—“
Tim’s vision had now become entirely blurred by tears.
“—You can’t even speak?” Armie asked.
Tim shook his head so hard it nearly fell off his shoulders, wrapping his arms around his chest just when they felt the need to reach up, to grab the feather and snap it in two.
“So, a similar reaction to your toes being dealt the same torment, then…”
Armie listened out in joy as bellowed insanity left Tim’s body with every quick and steady stroke of the feather, a movement Armie persisted with for a further twelve minutes, non stop.
Twenty minutes into the session and Armie finally paused.
Tim’s arms flung back over his head, his body swinging from side to side as he coughed and sputtered into Sub Zero’s floor, the egg timer staring him in the face.
He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, desperate to remove the tears blurring his vision, tears that hadn’t formed out of fear or upset but simply because of his upside down position.
The remaining minutes on the egg timer looked fuzzy - no matter how much he blinked or tried to smear away excess fluid he still couldn’t make out how long was left.
That in itself was torture.
Ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick…
Armie hopped off the chair, landing on both feet with an elegant bounce.
Tim sniffed, licking swollen lips, his mouth bursting open in disbelief as Armie grabbed his sweater and pulled it from his body.
The removal was so sudden and swift that it made Tim swing forwards and then fall back, his body dangling and rotating in a vomit-inducing spin.
Stripped now entirely naked with only a dog collar and leash attached to his neck, Tim hid his face and focused on not throwing up.
No.
Fuck.
You can’t hurl again.
Not again, not again, not again, not again …
Armie threw Tim’s sweater over his shoulder where it landed on Sub Zero’s floor in a gentle plop.
He then held onto Tim’s waist, stopping him from swinging and spinning.
Tim dangled still, the ankle cuffs holding him into position.
Armie kissed Tim’s navel, then his right hip, his tongue licking over the skin that made up his waist.
“Shhh,” he hushed into Tim’s flesh, “Take a breath, it’s alright …”
Tim breathed in, his hands sliding away from his face, exhaling through flared nostrils.
His arms dangled over his head, his sweat drenched armpits now fully exposed, his long, naked body dangling upside down, vulnerable and ready for Armie’s taking.
“Wo-wow,” Tim gradually caught his breath, his face now a dark shade of red, his eyes attempting to look up at Armie, at the cuffs around his ankles, at his cock dangling over his stomach, “That was, that was too much, man - fuck I, I, I--”
“--You couldn’t take it, I know,” Armie finished Tim’s sentence for him, “You broke almost immediately. It’s rather fascinating, how much you can endure, how far you’ll go without saying your safe word…” Armie moved around Tim, kissing the bottom of his back, “You snap, but instead of allowing yourself defeat, you continue …” another kiss, this time over Tim’s left thigh, “… Why is that, Timmy?”
Tim breathed in and out, in and out, in and out …
“I, I … I don’t want another hour on top of whatever’s next,” Tim admitted, bringing both hands to his face where he wiped away emotion and distress, his body still swaying gently from left to right, “I thought the toes were bad, but this is awful and, and if this is awful, then, then fuck knows what shit you’re gonna throw at me third time round …”
Armie knelt down, his face now a little under Tim’s.
He held onto his jaw, momentarily stopping his lee from swaying.
“Not long till we find out,” he whispered.
Armie then kissed, a hard, passionate kiss where both lips pressed against each other in force.
Armie stood, picking up the leash.
He then stepped back, once, twice, three times, four times …
He pulled Tim by the collar so that Tim’s body followed him.
Stretched out by the pull, as well as the ankle cuffs keeping him in place, Tim had no choice but to squeeze his eyes shut and moan out in discomfort.
“Armieeeee, fuck, Arrrrrrrmieeeeee—“ he cried.
Armie let go of the leash.
Tim swung back, spinning in a violent rotation, swaying front to back, left to right, side to side.
Tim hid his face with his hands once again, dangling in a miserable swing as Armie walked towards the open section of the wall that had once contained the remote.
Another brush of fingertips over a hidden sensor and another section of the wall whizzed upward, revealing more red velvet interior, this time decorated with neatly laid out gags.
Ball gags, cotton gags, leather gags …
Armie picked up the largest looking ball gag and returned to Tim, who had just about stopped spinning upon Armie’s arrival.
Tim watched the ball gag near his mouth, Armie’s approach slow and gradual.
“Fuck, you kinky mother fu—mphhh! Mphher, mphher fugghher!”
Armie forced the ball gag deeper into Tim’s mouth.
He then tied it at the back with the simplicity of a metal clip.
“Kinky mother fucker, you say?” Armie smirked, raising his right eyebrow, “Oh, I like that.”
Armie stepped away from Tim, where he stretched out his fingers, wiggling them and shaking his hands, readying them for what they’d achieve in the final—
—Armie looked down at the egg timer, underneath Tim’s head.
Tickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
… The final thirty minutes of challenge two.
Damnit, Armie thought.
I’ve wasted ten with talk.
He always brings the conversationalist out in me …
… Far more than the others did.
Armie laughed into the sleeve of his tracksuit as the name Tim called him during the height of his hysteria landed back in his mind.
“... Monster …” Armie whispered.
Tim’s eyes widened.
“Mphh?”
Armie took in a breath.
“You thought that was me being a monster? Hmmm …” Armie closed his eyes, “… You best brace yourself, kid …”
He took two slow steps towards Tim, his fingers nearing his upper body.
“I plan to be merciless, to not hold back, to lean into the monster you described me as,” Armie scoffed, “Yeah, I’ll show you a monster … “
Tim’s face became saturated in panic, his elbows and arms clamping up against his sides, concealing his armpits, his hands covering his ribcage, the alarm jittering out of his skin almost too suddenly.
“Mppphh! Mphhhh! Mpmphhh!”
Armie’s shoulders hunched, his fingers clawed, his teeth clenched into a wild, bestial grin …
He took sinister, measured steps, his transformation from friend and lover into relentless tickler taking place over a few seconds …
He then sent all ten fingers into Tim’s sides.
He grabbed at his boney rib cage, he dug into his hips, he pinched his waist and ravaged the tender muscles beneath his pecs …
Tim twisted and spun, he screamed and howled, he hunched his stomach and tried to bend his knees …
The chains in the ceiling creaked at how violently the weight attached to them squirmed and writhed, mid air, in a constant twirl.
Armie’s fingers travelled towards Tim’s armpits, armpits hidden by Tim’s clamped up arms.
“NOMPH, MPHHING MMMPHING, NOMPH MPHH—“ Tim heaved breathlessly.
Armie tried to make out Tim’s words.
You’re not going in, you’re not going in!, is the translation he decided with.
“Oh yes I am …”
Armie tried to infiltrate the thin gap between Tim’s arms and his upper sides, but the boy had clamped down so hard that even the solid strength of Armie’s fingers found no luck in their invasion.
Armie stepped back, wiping sweat away from his upper lip, running a hand through his blonde tufts of hair.
Tim remained in his ‘protective’ position, his arms now crossed over his chest, his hands hiding the soaked, moist delves that made up his armpits.
“You’re cheating,” Armie stated, “You’re stopping me from tickling you. You’ve failed the challenge.”
Tim shook his head, his lips, mouth and tongue consumed by the ball gag.
“Mpph! Mphh? Mph-ugh-hu-ag!”
Tim tried to explain himself but all that came out was dribble and muffled moans.
Armie reached forward and temporarily removed Tim’s gag, pulling the plastic ball out of his mouth, holding it below his chin for a moment.
Tim licked his lips.
“You, you said not to grab you …” he swallowed down, his hands never leaving their spot, “… I haven’t touched you once, I, I’ve only tried to protect my, myself …” Tim could barely catch his breath, saliva now seeping across his jaw.
Armie felt his erection tug at the underwear beneath his tracksuit bottoms.
Seeing Tim so desperate to physically conceal such a ticklish area of his body aroused Armie in more ways than he could describe.
Ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
He’s right.
So, make him grab.
Be that monster.
If he trusts you, if he wants you, if he can endure this for a further nine days …
Then he’ll forgive you.
Armie slid the ball gag back into Tim’s mouth.
“--Mphhh!”
He then sent all ten fingers back into Tim’s sides where they danced from hip to neck, hip to neck, hip to neck.
Tim’s entire body flung around mid air like a fish attached to wire, fresh out of water.
Armie, relentless in achieving his goal, eventually wiggled his fingers between Tim’s clamped down arms and armpits.
As if they were digging through dirt, they finally invaded their way into the sweaty delves where they dropped anchor and refused to leave.
Tim’s physical reactions, already frenzied and wild, suddenly shot into a realm of fierce, extreme convulsion.
Armie’s fingers tickled hard, they made their way straight for the middle of each of Tim’s armpits, wiggling and grabbing and clawing at the ticklish treasure.
“Mphhhh! Mmphhh–mphhhhhh, mphhhhh!”
Ticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick …
Tim bucked and twisted his body into a distorted scrunch, kicking out into thin air, the chains above clinking and clanking as his upside down form fell victim to Armie’s tickle attacks.
Armie stayed with his promise.
He provided nothing but relentless, merciless movements.
He did not hold back.
Not for one second.
Tim’s eyes watered, his throat produced screams and cries that mostly left his body via his nostrils, thanks to the ball gag wedged around his tongue.
He so desperately wanted to grab at Armie with both hands, but he knew the rules, he understood the risks and what would happen if he gave in.
Tickticktickticktickticktickticktick…
Tim had no idea how much time he had left.
He began to question if he could even take this.
He had his arms wrapped around his chest so tightly that his shoulders began to throb.
What are you doing?!
He’s in them anyway, the worst is already happening!
Fuck!
The whole thing is a fucking mind fuck! Tim pulled thoughts out of a mind full of delirium.
Tim’s arms unwrapped themselves from around his chest.
If they couldn’t protect him now, if his hands couldn’t stop Armie, he’d need to take his mind away from this somehow.
So he punched the air.
He bit into his fists.
He grabbed his curls of hair, pulling down on them in the midst of a crazed moment of shock as Armie continued to tickle his armpits.
“Mphhh! Mphhh! Mmmmmmm-ph!”
It felt insane to Tim, to allow himself to not try and stop Armie.
To literally be his own worst enemy.
The safe word arrived in his head again.
New York…
The tickle torture went on non stop, for minutes that felt like hours, all whilst the egg timer tickticktickticktick’d underneath Tim’s head, a head now painted red and soaked once again in perspiration.
Saliva fell over the egg timer’s surface, it drooped from Tim’s ball gag stuffed mouth and puddled over the floor below him.
Tim’s entire body felt like it had been attached to an open wire.
Electrocuted by Armie’s fingers, his persistent, never ending, uninterrupted touch.
Suddenly, Armie’s fingers left his underarms and travelled back down his sides.
A spot in the middle of Tim’s ribcage, undiscovered till now, caused Tim to jolt in ways Armie hadn’t seen since exploring his taint for the first time some weeks ago.
“MPH! MPH! MPH!”
Tim looked angry, ferocious, disturbed by how ticklish that spot felt, uncertain if it were even possible to go from armpit to this, this new area …
A Hell between a Hell.
This is where I win, Armie thought.
He used both hands to breach the spot, exploiting its ticklishness, sending Tim into an upside down twist of hysteria, spinning and twirling.
“MPH! MPH! MPH!”
Armie tried to make out what ‘MPH’ was meant to be …
He assumed, ‘NO, NO, NO’ …
But it could’ve been ‘STOP, STOP, STOP’ …
I hope it’s both.
Such a sensitive spot, so fresh and unexpected, so sudden and alarming for Tim to deal with …
… It made him consider saying his safe word now more than ever.
But how could he, gagged like this?
“MPHH, MPHH, MMMMMMMMM-PH!”
Armie exploited the area around Tim’s ribs for four minutes non stop, before returning to the sweltering caverns that made up Tim’s underarms.
Tim’s fingers clawed out into a distressed stretch, he could do nothing but scream into his gag and wave his arms and punch the air and hiss up dribble and produce muffled begs and hysterical pleas …
Armie had Tim, in ways he couldn’t describe.
He had him, by his armpits, and there was no sign of letting go.
It was an assault.
A non stop, powerful, conquering assault on his senses, sending Tim mentally and physically into breaking point.
Tim grabbed at the chair.
He shoved it over.
It landed on Sub Zero’s floor with a crack.
He yelled a distraught, ‘OKAY OKAY OKAY’ but all that came out were muffled noises behind a plastic ball soaked in dribble and slobber.
Tickticktickticktickticktickticktick…
Unable to physically say his safe word, Tim had no choice but to accept that he couldn’t take this anymore, especially with the inability to see how long the egg timer had before it would sound its ring.
Tim grabbed at Armie’s hands.
He scratched at their tops and he curled fingers around thumbs.
He pulled at wrists and he forced his tickler’s digits away from his underarms, straining and groaning as he used every ounce of strength, every fibre of his being to put a stop to Armie’s ambush.
Armie stumbled back, a grin splaying over a face soaked with self accomplishment.
Ticktickticktick—RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG!
Armie fell to the floor as Tim’s arms dangled above his head, his body swaying from side to side, more dribble seeping out of the gag and over the egg timer’s surface as it rattled below his head.
Tim heaved and heaved, coughed and spluttered, utterly devastated that he had broken simply seconds before the egg timer announced the end of one of the most gruelling sessions Armie had ever put him through.
RIIIIINNNNNNNNNN—click!
Sub Zero remained silent, besides Tim’s hoarse and heavy breathing and the sound of chains swaying in the air.
Armie got to his feet.
He dusted himself off, smearing sweat away from his forehead.
He approached Tim and unclipped the ball gag.
He felt unsure as to how Tim might feel, after being pushed so far …
… After a day of intimacy, wine and pizza, nothing but the comfort of a bed and the chill of an open window.
To this - pure, visceral tickle torture.
Undeniably profound, limitless sensory overload.
Tim wiped his mouth clear of saliva as the ball gag left his head entirely.
He then reached hands down below him, his fingers curling around the egg timer.
He threw the egg timer out into the white, empty expanse of Sub Zero, where it landed on the floor some fifteen metres away in a smash.
Its now severed broken parts exploded out in a dozen directions.
Armie winced.
However, his concern was squashed immediately.
Tim held out his hand, as if offering some form of hand shake.
“You, you fucker,” Tim coughed, “You, you won …”
Armie raised his eyebrows, taking Tim’s hand in his.
Tim squeezed it, congratulating his tickler, proving to him that despite this being unbearable, physically and mentally, he was part of this game, he understood the consequences, he trusted the process.
Armie shook Tim’s hand.
“You, you did a fantastic job, Tim. You, you almost made it …”
Tim closed his eyes, keeping his hand in Armie’s, speaking in a strained croak.
“Can you, can you let me down, n-now?”
Armie nodded.
He let go of Tim and then retrieved the remote, his thumb pressing down over the button.
The ceiling chains began to lower.
Tim felt his body sink through the air until his shoulders planted down over Sub Zero’s floor.
Within a minute, Tim now lay on the ground, panting, naked, still leashed, still collared, catching his breath beside a wooden chair broken in two and an open white box containing a reward Tim would have received if he had been successful in keeping his hands to himself.
Armie uncuffed Tim’s ankles.
He then picked up the box, his hand sliding inside.
“An hour will be added to the third and final challenge,” Armie sniffed up his own exhaustion, “Making the next session two hours long. Now …”
Armie pulled out a smaller box from inside the larger box’s interior, “… Despite what you may think, I’m not as monstrous as you believe.”
Tim sat up, pulling his feet towards his body, hugging his knees as he endured a burn in his lungs and an ache in his stomach.
He watched Armie kneel down beside him, handing him a gift box in the same shape and style as the one containing the credit card at the end of the previous session.
“You still deserve your reward,” Armie declared.
Tim eyed the box, unable to take it just yet, his mind leaning more toward negotiation.
“Can’t I …” Tim adjusted the collar strapped around his neck with a gulp, “… Can’t I just have the hour ta-taken off the next one? I… I seriously don’t think I can, I can take it anymore.”
Armie shook his head, nudging the box closer towards Tim.
“This might make you think otherwise.”
Tim tucked curls of hair behind his ears and then took the box from Armie.
He hastily removed the black silk ribbon and bows and then flicked off the lid.
Inside the box, laid out on black velvet padding, was a pearl choker with a silver ring attached to it.
Sub Zero’s bright lights reflected off each pearl, causing it to glimmer and sparkle during an unexpected moment of peace, after such aggressive activity.
Tim picked the choker out from inside the box and dangled it in the air, like how he himself had dangled only five minutes ago.
It looked expensive and felt far heavier than it appeared.
The ring seemed to be real silver and each individual pearl existed in a perfect circular shape.
Armie shuffled behind Tim and unclipped the collar around his neck.
He pulled it off of Tim, throwing the collar and leash to the side.
Tim closed his eyes and smiled.
Armie then carefully took the choker from Tim and began to attach it to his neck.
He clipped it at the back, adjusting the ring so that it rested over Tim’s suprasternal notch.
Armie then sat back down opposite Tim.
“It’s still a collar, Tim. In some ways, it’s probably more powerful than the leash I just removed. It symbolises pure commitment. The complete dedication to being owned, by me … “
Tim’s fingertips lifted the ring from his neck as he stared down at the pearls, curls of hair hanging over his face.
“For … Forever?” Tim asked,
Armie wished Tim’s voice didn’t sound so uncertain.
It was then he reminded himself that uncertainty was a feeling Tim was allowed to feel.
You’re practically proposing to him, after all.
“No, for … The final nine days,” Armie replied, even though he wanted to say, ‘yes! Forever!’
He had to bide his time, take careful steps, and manage this perfectly.
And then it slipped out.
“… But, once The Agreement has ended, forever … Will be up to you.”
Tim ran his thumb gently over the smooth silver ring hooked around the pearls attached to his neck.
He lifted his head, staring Armie in the eye.
He nodded, smiling, consenting fully.
He felt something deep within him, at the very core of his being, every time Armie pushed him into chaotic, blurred, animalistic, uncontrollable oblivion.
He hated it, despised it, detested it entirely …
… He craved it, he longed for it, he felt unsure what he’d do without it.
In some ways, he loved it.
“I’m … I’m yours, Armie.”
Armie’s body slumped, as if a tense steel wire in his back had been removed.
His entire mouth splayed into a giant, overwhelmed, happy grin.
He took Tim in his arms, embracing him in the bright, white light of Sub Zero.
Tim closed his eyes, resting his face and head into Armie’s chest.
Armie then stood, taking both of Tim’s hands, lifting him to his feet.
He then kissed Tim’s jaw, his neck, landing fluttering pecks up towards his ear.
“You’re incredible. Do you know that?” He whispered.
Tim chuckled, his voice broken, his throat sore.
“Yeah, I know …”
Armie rested his chin on Tim’s head as they stood, arms wrapped around each other, surrounded by bondage, a feather, a smashed egg timer, a broken chair and two empty boxes.
Without saying anything, Armie slid his right hand around Tim’s and began to lead him away from the debris, and toward his third and final challenge in The Trial.
TCTLR continues in Chapter Thirty Three - ‘The Trial, Part Three’