The Master – TKL FRAT

By QuantumLuv

This couldn’t be happening.

No, no — there is no way that this could be happening. There the boys were, stripped to their boxers and tied to each other on the hotel bed, stomach-to-stomach. Their hands were wrapped around the other’s ribcage, like an awkward-yet-effective hug. Neither could move except for their hands, the guys’ bared ankles trapped in an elaborate web of zip-ties. The young 20-somethings looked in each other’s eyes and could see that they were experiencing the same feeling: a mixture of excitement and undeniable mortal terror. The hotel wall lamp was all that was lighting their sweat-drenched bodies, and that’s exactly how The Master liked it. “OK, boys,” the Master started, “one of you is going to be my Tickle Toy for the evening. But I want to see which one wants it more — therefore, you are going to tickle each other into submission. The first one to relent is going to be put in a world of — heh — delights …” The Master snickered. “So it’s tickle or be tickled, young squires. Any questions?”

Todd spoke up and said “Yeah …”, then turning to his collegiate tickle counterpart (whose fingers were starting to softly circle the area just below Todd’s pits). “What’s your name?” The other boy laughed a bit: “Kyle.”

“Enough of the small talk!” shouted The Master. “Now … BEGIN!”

—————————–

Two months had passed since Todd had been initiated into Foot Club, and he was already the Club’s rising star. After his first night of ticklish humiliation, Todd knew he was hooked for life. All the Facebook pics and MySpace posts by the Club’s other members had made Todd into something of a reluctant campus celebrity. Though the concept of “Foot Club” was floated around discussions of various cliques, very few dare ask what all those pictures of Todd sucking frat toes was all about. Just one week afterwards, the frat members who started the Club were soon calling up Todd — not for a worship session, but to see a movie, to go to a campus party, etc. The sheer intensity of his first ordeal would’ve broken any soul, but Todd’s passion for worship was even stronger, and through it, he preserved. No other initiation in the history of the college was as intense: Todd had become something of a legend.

Two weeks later, Todd received a Facebook message from a kid named Jason who, Todd later found out, sat two rows behind him in his Philosophy of Art class. Jason sent a message of admiration: not only praising Todd’s audacity to endure what (at least through the Facebook pics) appeared to be a tumultuous tickle experience, but also giving Todd an unusual compliment — that his feet looked real good in flip-flops. Even as text on a screen, Todd felt that Jason’s message was shy, like words whispered out at a loud party. The next day, right as the bell ended in that same class, Todd winked at Zach as he walked out but outstretched his arm to stop Jason right there in his tracks.

“Hey dude” started Todd, speaking as a much more confident individual than he was before he came to this school.
“Oh, hey there Todd” stammered Jason, his shoulder-length locks of hair slightly obscuring his face.
“So, I got your message.”
“Oh yeah … sorry, that was just kind of a … in the moment kind of thing …”
“Dude, it’s OK. I’ve got the same fetish, man.”
A small smile broke out on Jason’s face. Todd then did something entirely pompous and self-serving … but something he’d been wanting to try for a while. He placed his hand right at the back of Jason’s head and said “Go ahead, look.”
It took Jason a second to figure it out, but Todd’s hand slowly directed Jason’s gaze down upon Todd’s flip-flopped feet. The toes wiggled a bit in recognition, but Jason simply sat there, mouth agape. He stood like this for several seconds, the classroom now empty as people staggered to lunch.
“I … I feel kind of guilty for looking.” Jason was almost shivering as he said it.
“It’s OK, Jason — I like the attention.” Jason’s smile emerged again. Todd then leaned over and whispered something in his ear:
“Tell me … what do you want to do them?”

Jason took a second, and carefully considered his next words: “I would love to … worship your feet.”
Todd grinned. “Then follow me.”

Todd opened the door to his room and let Jason enter first. Todd followed and then locked the door behind him. Jason — decked out in long jeans and black tennis shoes, took a moment to absorb the room in. Jason was obviously nervous, but he had an excitement about him … as if stunned he had made it this far, all that much closer to making his private fantasies a reality. Jason finally was able to indulge in a bit of small talk:

“So, um, you live alone?”
“No, man. I live with a guy named Doug. Kinda bearded, in a lot of plays, etcetera. Know him?”
“I think I had Beginning Acting with him …”
“Yeah, real cool guy.” Todd sat at his computer chair and propped his still-sandaled feet up on his desk. Jason caught himself staring again.
“So, is Doug … does he know about your fetish?”
Todd grimaced a little. “Um, well … that’s not important now. The important thing is simply this — how badly do you want my feet?”
Jason was stunned by the abruptness of the question “Well, I … a lot. I want them very badly.”
“So, you’d be willing to go through a lot to get ’em, right?”
“Well, I guess I …”
“Tell me,” said Todd in a slightly menacing tone “… are you ticklish, Jason?”
Todd recognized the look: the wide-eyed admission of defeat.
“Well, yes, but I hate being tickled, and I can’t stand …”
“But do you hate it enough to be rewarded with feet at the end?” said Todd, interrupting.
Jason’s face was blank. Was it worth it? Could he do it?

Ten minutes later, Jason was in no position to take back his own damning response: “I’d do anything for your feet, Jason!”

At present, a nice area of Todd’s floor had been cleared. Jason was down to his boxers, laying hog-tied on the floor, face-down. His hands and feet were bound tight behind him … and oh, what feet they were. Size 9’s that were soft and pink, sensitive to being in socks practically their entire life. Jason had been bound with white nylon rope that Todd bought during his first week at school (in hopes of packing), and the young freshman boy was completely immobile. Todd sat next to the boy with his legs outstretched, Jason’s knees right next to his crotch, leaving Todd’s legs to cradle Jason’s bound body, Todd’s barefeet only inches away from Jason’s face on either side. Jason could already smell them, despite the toes being more than six inches away from his nose. Jason was in ecstasy. He tried to turn and look at the face of his captor behind him, but could only wrangle a side glance:

“So, how long do I have to endure?”
Todd flashed a wicked grin: “Until I’m happy.”

With Jason’s out-flexed, bound toes facing the ceiling (and a chin-level) Todd decided to have a little fun with his prey. First, he moved his nose down to Jason’s toes, and inhaled a bit. What a joyous scent. Then, he flickered his tongue right at the base of those toes, right on the pads of the soles. Jason already began to giggle. Oh, this was going to be fun. Without warning, Todd began dragging his fingernails slowly across Jason’s feet, from heel to toe-base, and all he could hear was the boy yelp and yelp and yelp. If Todd could’ve seen Jason’s face from his position, he would’ve seen it twist and distort into a fun-house mirror menagerie of smiles. Some tried to hold back the laughter, while others just gave in. When Jason closed his eyes, it seemed to help hold back the laughter a bit, but anytime he opened them, he saw Todd’s big bared soles on either side of him, flexing and moving and driving him wild. Ten seconds into his tickle torture, and already Jason couldn’t take anymore.

But this didn’t stop Todd — he was too busy using his perfectly-trimmed nails to explore the tops of Jason’s feet … then the sides of them … and then he spent a lot of time lightly dancing over his ankles. Oh, how Jason writhed. The body bouncing around between Todd’s legs, like a blue jean lasso in which the young boy was ensnared. Unable to complete a coherent word, Jason just kept laughing and laughing, Todd now seeing what areas of Jason’s feet yielded what kinds of desperate sounds, interspersing the tickling with frequent tongue explorations of the sensitive flesh between Jason’s toes. Jason’s boxers did little to prevent the freshman’s expanding erection from grinding into the cheap rug beneath him, but, really, Jason’s sense of time was completely gone, and he had little sense to adjust for such things.

Ten minutes had passed, and Todd was enthralled. Yet he saw tears of laughter dripping down Jason’s face … and felt it was time to reward him. Todd inched his feet closer to Jason, who — as soon as he stopped laughing — began licking without being told to. Passionate, excited licking. All the energy that Jason had left from the tickling was being used to worship Todd’s feet, an accomplishment made all the more amazing by the fact that Jason was completely immobile. Todd’s fingertips lightly traced Jason’s feet as he did this, but eventually the good feeling of having his feet worshipped was just too much for Todd, who went from a sitting position to a lying down one, all with the hog-tied Jason still cradled between his legs. Todd’s own rod began to respond in kind, and it wasn’t long before he reached his own climax, his toes clenching in Jason’s mouth just as how Todd’s mouth clenched around Zach’s toes all those many moons ago. It was incredible. As soon as Todd gathered the strength, he sat up and untied Jason, who almost collapsed entirely on the floor, splayed like an exhausted asterix on the ground. Todd heard Jason pant heavily.

“Enjoy it?” inquired Todd, his own brow sweating from the experience.
Jason could only squeeze this out between pants “Too much.” Both smiled.

As Jason finished getting dressed a few minutes later, he asked “So, do you have a foot master that you serve?” Todd laughed confidently. “Not anymore.”

Then, Doug walked in.

“What’s up, Todd?” the bearded Scot beckoned.
“Hey there, Doug.”
“Who’s this?” Doug asked, pointing to Jason.
“Oh, just some …”
“I’m Jason.”
Todd frowned a bit.
“Hello there, Jason,” beamed Doug. “Nice to meet you.”
Todd was growing anxious: “Jason, maybe you should go …”
“Why?” asked Doug, popping open his mini-fridge to grab a Heineken. “What’s the rush?”
“Well, Jason just has a lot of …”
“What’s wrong, Todd?” asked Jason. “Ashamed that I worshipped your feet?”
Todd stopped, blushing. Jason turned to look at Doug, whose eyebrow just arched in amusement.
“Oh, this is too good!” started Doug. Todd was almost yelling: “Jason, you should leave now, or …”

“Hey Jason” — Doug was speaking with a devilish grin — “want to see something cool?”
“Yeah!”
“No!” screamed Todd.
“Watch this!” Doug handed Jason his beer, sat on the couch next to the wall of the room, and slowly began to untie his black Chuck Taylors. Slowly and deliberately. Todd’s legs were braced as if he were about to sprint at any second, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Doug’s feet. Off came the Chuck’s … slowly. Then the long, tall white socks … first the right one, leaving Doug’s right foot bare and looking beautiful. Doug turned to Jason and said “would you care to do the other?” Jason smiled and eagerly — yet slowly — removed Doug’s other long white sock. Now, Doug was barefoot. Doug propped his feet onto the yin-yang coffee table they purchased at the start of the year. Jason turned to Todd, who was trembling. “Go ahead,” motioned Doug, “I know you want to.” Todd buckled at the knees, and moved closer to Doug’s feet. Without hesitation, he began sucking on Doug’s toes with care and obedience. Doug relinquished his beer from Jason and took a swig. Jason stared in amazement.
“How … why is he doing this?”
“I dunno” said Doug, quite nonchalantly. “Dude just loves my feet.”
“When did you find out?”
“The night I woke up with my toes in his mouth. He tries to be all confident and stuff, but, for whatever reason, my feet are the thing that makes him do whatever I want. I don’t abuse my powers, but I just thought you should see this.”
“I’m glad you’re showing me” said Jason with a gluttonous grin. He turned to Doug and whispered “Hey, I might have a proposition for you …”

Todd tried to listen but couldn’t make it out through the slurping sounds of his mouth against Doug’s soles — he was absolutely helpless at the feet of the boy who he secretly loved. Doug never abused Todd’s fetish, but he did find it amusing on occasion. If only Todd could hear what Doug and Jason were whispering to each other …

Two nights later, Todd was arriving home from a late-night fiction workshop (which, being college, was actually held at a nearby Applebee’s, the prof. paying for the whole meal). His new story just got torn to shreds, so Todd was just about ready to pass out. He found his keys, and turned the lock to his room … only to see the strangest sight he had ever seen. It was midnight, and the light from the hallway behind him was just enough to illuminate the sight in front of him: Doug’s bared soles, floating.

They weren’t floating of course, but the couch in the guys room had been moved to the center of the room and turned sideways — Doug was merely propping his bared beauties up on the armrest so that when Todd walked in, it would be the first thing he saw. Todd sat aghast — the sight was hypnotic … yet somehow exactly what he needed. He took two steps into his room, when he heard Doug say “close the door”. Todd obliged, plunging the room into semi-darkness (the moonlight still outlined Doug’s perfect toes all too well). “Go ahead” said Doug, “just enjoy.” Todd found the gesture odd … but who was he to resist? He set his backpack down, kneeled to the side of the couch, and, like an anxious puppy, began gently licking the greatest footflesh he had ever laid eyes on. As minutes past, Todd got more into it, encouraged by Doug’s saying of “yes, good boy” over and over. Somehow, though, this seemed quite out of character for Doug. That’s when Doug said the most out-of-character thing of all, though:

“Ya know, they’re paying me a lot to set you up, Todd.”
“Who is?”
“They are.”

A black hood was put over Todd’s eyes and a gag was stuffed into his mouth, with at least two pairs of arms (maybe three) all restraining him. As Todd pointlessly struggled while being carried out of the room, all Todd could hear was Doug saying “Enjoy your time with The Master …”

———————————-

Another day, another list of appointments.

There Kyle stood, looking at the dry-erase board mounted on the door to the room he shared with Matt: “Foot Boy’s Sign-Up Sheet”. This was not something that Kyle initiated, instead something that Phil — his unofficial “Foot Master”, had started in the wake of that one time that Kyle sucked on Phil’s unconscious toes without his permission. When Matt revealed Kyle’s ticklish nature, Kyle had to pretty much give in to each and every whim that Phil had. The “Sign Up Sheet” was one of them, as any player on the swim team could sign up for an appointment to get their feet serviced. Kyle no longer had to pay his “clients”, but Phil’s rule was that they could tie him up and tickle them if he wanted (especially if he, you know, tried to wipe a name off of the sign-up sheet). Kyle dreaded it, but only in public. Secretly, he loved the fact that every day he got to indulge his favorite fetish of all time — as long as the guys didn’t tickle him. Kyle hated being tickled, as that was his single, greatest weakness.

Really, Kyle hated being tickled because of Einstein.

E=MC2 and all that bullshit. He didn’t like the transfer of energy ratios. He didn’t like how a single index finger could wiggle a quarter of an inch on a patch of skin on his body (pick anywhere, really), and this would then cause his entire body to buck and convulse against his will. Really, it wasn’t fair. At all. It was for this reason that he was happy to be rooming with Matt. Matt still had a rockin’ swimmers body, but even though Matt was really Kyle’s first worship experience (excepting Dylan, of course), Matt never forced Kyle to worship his succulent beauts … nor did he tickle him. He was somewhat like a protective older brother, occasionally telling Phil when enough was enough … even if he did go along with Phil’s whims most of the time. In the end though, Kyle determined that he didn’t really mind the tickling … as long as he got feet at the end of his day.

That night, Kyle thought of the recent session that he had with his friend Dylan when he visited him on campus, and just how flat-out intense it was, breaking all previous notions of what a foot worship session could accomplish. Really, that one experience proved to be what Kyle thought about a lot, but it would soon be pushed out of his mind when Matt — shaved head and all — said the phrase that, oddly, would change Kyle’s life:

“Dude, I think I found your twin.”
“What?”
“Come here!” said Matt, gesturing towards his computer monitor.
What Kyle saw blew his mind.

Matt was on Facebook, looking at the pictures of a guy who appeared to be naked (the shots were carefully edited for content), bound on the floor of some fraternity house room while being tickled and forced to worship, literally, hundreds of horny frat toes. The shots were peppered with beer bottles and cans all over the place, but the guy sucking the toes … he seemed to be … enjoying it. Kyle was intrigued — not as much over the fact that here was someone who may actually share the same interest as him, but … he was also kind of handsome: short, dark hair, a respectable bod, etc. Then again, these could all be tricks his mind was playing: maybe it was a really, really humiliating ordeal that some frosh had to go through for initiation. Either-way, Kyle was intrigued.

“What’s this?”
“I dunno” explained Matt, “I think it’s one of those Foot Club meetings I hear about. Who knows — might be up your alley.”
“I guess. What’s this guy’s name?”
“Um, let’s see … Todd. Wait, … I think I know him. We took Math for Trees together.”
“Math for Trees?”
“Yeah, it was like a crazy-easy math class. But yeah, nice guy. Guess he likes feet. And …” Matt clicked back to his profile, “looks like he lives in the building next to us.”
“Larguinha Hall?”
“That’s the one.”

There was an awkward silence. Then, Matt said the most daring thing that Kyle had ever heard in his life: “Why don’t you go see him?”

“Um … I wouldn’t expect you to encourage me in that respect, Matt. I mean, I’m grateful and all, but …”
Matt stopped him. “Dude, it makes you happy. You should do what makes you happy, and it’s even better if you could share it with someone. ‘sides … I could use the place to myself for a night. I could, um, take care of some things …”
Kyle stared blankly. Then he got it.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” said Matt. “It’s like walking around with a loaded gun.”
Kyle grinned. “It’s OK man — you’ve let me indulge myself enough in here.” Kyle slipped on some sneakers and was out the door before he knew it. The second the cool night air hit his skin though, Kyle realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do if he saw this Todd guy.

The door to Larguinha Hall was propped open (sounded like a kegger was going on on the second floor), so Kyle just had to stroll in. He went up to the third floor, where the Facebook page said Todd was, but Kyle never got a room number. He was hoping some of the guys would at least have the courtesy to put their names on at least one of the doors. First door: blank. Second door: there was a mirror for some reason. Third door … suddenly burst open.

Kyle reacted quickly and ducked behind where there was a soda machine nearby (they were dorm halls, after all). There were three guys dressed in black that were carrying out some guy … and he appeared to be gagged with a black hood over his head, struggling while the guys briskly moved him down the stairs and (likely) out the front. Kyle stood up and looked at the still-open door. A handsome, bearded, and barefooted college guy stood there, just about to close it. Kyle spoke up:

“Hello?”
“Oh hey — um, can I help you?”
“Yeah, um … is Todd here?”
The bearded guy laughed. “Ha ha — you just saw him leave.” He pointed to door that the guys dressed in black just carried the man through.
“Oh, OK. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Doug was just about ready to close the door when Kyle found himself blurting out again subconsciously: “Nice feet, by the way.” The second he said it, he began walking away in the direction of the secretive men. He could hear the bearded young man behind him say “Wow … another one …”

Exiting the front door of Larguinha Hall, it was obvious that the conversation with the handsome unshod fellow made the trail go a little cold. Kyle looked around, and on the other side of the quad, he could see the three figures (well, four, technically) still moving. Kyle sprinted in their direction — he wasn’t about to be seen quite yet, so he could make up some lost ground. Perhaps it was just because the college that Kyle attended was in a small town, but for some reason the sight of three guys in black carrying a third guy in the middle of the night wasn’t eliciting any phone calls to police. Maybe people just thought it was another crazy college prank … and maybe it was just another crazy college prank: Kyle wasn’t sure. Two block away from campus and there was still no stopping the guys, but, really, it was the middle of the night, so there wasn’t much to be done. There was a seedy roadside motel nearby (right off the on-ramp next to the college — the perfect, cheap place for visiting parents to stay), and the men were heading there, moving towards a particular room. Kyle was able to catch them enter what appeared to be room #20, and saw the door close behind them. Yes, definitely room #20. Where was Kyle’s “foot twin” being taken? This appeared to be more than just a college prank …

Kyle was struck with fear. Maybe he was dealing with criminals. Or worse. Yet, for whatever reason, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. It couldn’t be that bad — the bearded barefoot guy seemed pretty ambivalent to the whole thing, so he must’ve been in on it. Kyle sneaked up to the door of the room, his back against the parking lot and night air. Kyle pressed his ear up to the door to listen, and could hear bits and pieces of words — usually a lot of cussing from what he assumed was Todd, and phrases like “don’t tie me up! C’mon!” Then he heard a deeper, more confident voice ask “So, tell me Todd … are you ticklish?”

Kyle gasped in horrified recognition.
“Did you hear that?” said a voice from inside.
Before Kyle had time to lean away from the door, the door opened, and he fell right onto the floor of the hotel room. He then saw a glorious sight before him: three frat guys dressed in black, the guy from the Facebook worship pictures tied on a bed, and then a muscular, well-built 20-something standing right before him in nothing but surfer shorts, his bare feet screaming of a perfection that Kyle had never seen before in his life. Kyle was humiliated, embarrassed, and dumbfounded … and then he again said something without thinking about it: “nice feet.”
The barefooted Adonis snickered.
“Oh, this night is getting better and better” he snickered.
Kyle wouldn’t set foot outside the room for another dozen hours or so …

————————————–

The three frat boys dressed in black were finally leaving, having just stripped the intruder to his shorts and tying him up stomach-to-stomach with the other boy, positioned specifically as per the request of the half-naked boy in the middle of the hotel room. Said boy locked the door behind the three guys in black as they left. Todd had been gagged to silence his constant complaints (though he was a lot quieter after one of the three guys gave him a jolt to his sides). Kyle did not struggle as his clothes were removed and he was tied to the boy he recognized from the Facebook pictures. The unshod athlete type paced the room a bit, then, snickering, removed Todd’s gag.

“What the fuck is going on?!” shouted out Todd.
“Oh, you are in no position to be demanding anything, boy.” The muscular guy continued to pace around the bed with the two bound boys. “You can call me … the Master. In fact, you will call me the Master … unless you want a good ol’ fashioned tickling to straighten you out.”
Both boys gulped simultaneously.
“This is all about you, Todd,” started the Master. “You fucked with the wrong guy. You may know a kid named Jason, and you may know that he had kind of a thing for you. Well, not you, but definitely your feet … and I can see why.” The Master kneeled down and looked at the tied pairs of collegiate boyfeet flinching before him. “You both have very nice sets, I must say — it’s just going to make the night all the more fun.” The Master laughed. “You see, Todd, all Jason wanted to do was to worship your feet. But no — you had to take advantage of him. You think that after a few round of Foot Club, you can tell other people what to do, and how to be … tickled.” Todd gulped. “But Jason has got a lot of resources, my friend. And a lot of money. He contacted me via my website, ‘cos when there needs to be a guy tickled into reason, I’m the guy to do it. I am the Master, and this is what I do. I was paid a hefty fee by a poor, ticklish college student to seek revenge on egocentric little you, and I intend to get it, my friend. Oh yes. Most people need to eat and breathe in order to sustain life … and I need to tickle. It is one my one release in this world, and until you’ve seen a horny frat boy beg you for mercy between tears, you don’t know what kindness really is. Until you’ve broken down a high school jock by wiggling your fingers on his ribcage, making him laugh and do whatever you say to stop it … you don’t know what real power is. Tickling is the great leveller, as any jock can be ticklish, as can any nerd. Tickling is unbiased: certain boys will be ticklish and certain boys will have that ticklishness used against them. I’ve tickled cheating spouses, guys too broke to bay bookies, and was even brought in by the CIA once … and I’m only 20 years old, dude. I’m not even in my prime of primes yet! Yet I have tickled so many feet, destroyed so many ribcages, and made so many guys squeal at the discovery that the nape of their neck is in fact the most ticklish place on their whole body … and this is an experience I’m going to share with you, Todd.”

The Master turned to Kyle. “And you, whoever you are, well … you’re just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” The Master snickered again. Kyle only had one thought:

This couldn’t be happening.

“Enough of the small talk!” shouted The Master. “Now … BEGIN!”

Four pairs of hands across two young ribcages: it was an explosion of laughter.

Suddenly, the boys were tickling each other, and both were equally ticklish. Neither knew anything about the boy across from them except their name, but it was live or die scenario. Armpit hairs were circled, ribs were prodded, and stomachs were lightly scraped with the fingernails from extended pinky fingers. The boys rolled around on their bed, the Master sitting in a hotel chair, his hand clearly having fun whilst inserted down his surfer shorts. The tickler’s were being tickled while tickling, making for a vicious, unending cycle of cruel laughter. Kyle tried his hardest to tickle whilst receiving his worst punishment ever — as long as he kept his hands in motion he’d be fine. Todd, meanwhile, with tears streaming down his cheeks, did the best he could to block out the tickling sensations that were attacking him from all sides, trying to achieve some sort of Tickle Zen while inflicting maximum laughter on his opponent. Only two minutes in, both boys rods began to solidify, and between their boxer shorts, it was like the two boys were jousting during this match, making the tickling all the more potent. The Master was enjoying the spectacle as much as the boys were. The hands weren’t stopping, and to some it might look as if the boys had become one giant tickle organism that could only sustain its existence by tickling itself all the time. They were one horny, bound, boxer-clad mass of tickle hormones exploding in every direction at once. Then Kyle found Todd’s pecs — and Todd yelped.

“DEAR GOD I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!” screamed Todd.
“Yes!” replied Kyle.
“We have a winner!” declared the Master.

Both boys lay on the bed, sweating and taking bucket breaths in unison. Their lips were positioned dangerously close to each other, but neither noticed — they were too exhausted to notice. The master used some scissors to remove the zip-ties, and soon both boys were free, still lying on the bed, unable to move. The Master picked up Kyle and laid him down on the floor facedown. “Lick my feet every time I walk by” he ordered. Kyle weakly nodded. Todd, still on the bed, was soon tied spread-eagle, the Master walking around the bed multiple times just to make sure that the restraints were as tight as possible, the Master slowing his step (sometimes ridiculously so) when he neared Kyle’s mouth … and Kyle’s lizard tongue appeased the master every time (the Master actually liked the tops of his feet to be licked more so than the bottoms). Soon, Todd was bound and unable to move a single inch. The Master looked down at the floor-hugging Kyle. “OK, what’s your name again?”
“Kyle.”
“No, your name is Slave for the rest of the night. Now I’m gonna wash up before we start — I want you to prep Todd’s feet for me.”
“Um, how do I do that?”
The Master wiggled his perfect toes. “The same way you prepped mine, Slave.”

As the Master went into the restroom to get himself ready, Kyle crawled over to the first bare foot he could see tied to the corner of the bed. He looked ad it — sweaty, unmoving, and perfect. Kyle picked himself up to a kneel, soon placing his nose right between Todd’s big and first toe, his nostrils treated to a symphony of foot delights. Todd, so out of it, actually laughed as he felt the air being drawn up to Kyle’s nose on his toes. Then, came the licking. Kyle started out slowly, dabbing Todd’s toepads like a painter placing a brush to an easel to grab the first few bits of watercolor. Then, Kyle’s tongue began working around the toepads to touch the top of the toenail, polishing it. The tongue continued to circle, soon focusing on the spaces between the toes, like a slimy dragon weaving through a forest of trees. Todd felt the ticklish pleasures, but was so out of it his toes couldn’t even flinch in reaction. His feet belonged to Kyle. That tongue … it just didn’t stop! It was exploring every inch of Todd’s already-sensitive, already-ticklish toes, soon taking a trip down through the valley that was Todd’s high arches. Todd could only sit there and take it like a man. Now that Kyle had warmed up, he was ready to lick the second foot with even more force.

“Enough, Slave!”
Kyle cowered next to the Master’s commanding voice. The Master walked up to the bed, kneeling between Todd’s now spread legs, Master’s full weight bowing the bed, his own feet sticking out on the edge.
“Slave,” he commanded “I want you to service my feet as I begin my process with this young … toy.”
Slave obliged.

As Kyle began engulfing the Master’s toes, the Master’s fingernails began lightly scraping around Todd’s belly button. They danced and drifted, twisting and tangling his happy trail with joyous ease, then floating over to Todd’s inner thighs. It was here that Todd’s body tried to fold up into itself, but to no avail. Noticing, the Master continued to focus on the inner thighs, stroking in a fashion that was both loving and unbelievably devious at the same time. The nails soon began sneaking right under the rim of the boxers, and Todd’s boner could stand it anymore. Through the boxer fabric, the fingernails began lightly tormenting the tent pole, and Todd went from giggling to begging in a second flat. Those devious little fingernails … they just were focusing on every single weak spot that Todd knew. The Master’s own hardon was raging through his shorts — after all, he was having his feet licked while tickle torturing a hot young boy — but those fingernails weren’t satisfied with Todd’s horniness. They soon crept back to the belly button … then to the bottom of Todd’s ribcage. Still dancing. Feather-light tickling was the bane of Todd’s existence, and it didn’t take long for the Master to figure that out. “Oh, you’re a fun one, aren’t you, Todd?”

Two hours later, Todd’s boxers had been cut off by scissors, and Kyle had his hands tied behind his back, ordered to now tickle Todd’s feet with his tongue. Even though Todd was spread-eagled on the bed, the Master had somehow slid himself underneath the space between the bed and Kyle’s spread-eagled body — Todd’s helplessness was increased ten-fold as this tickle urchin existed beneath him, feeding off of his laughter and nothing else. Todd’s mind had broken — time and space no longer existed for him: he was just one giant erogenous tickle zone whose sole purpose in life was to be tickled. The hands from underneath played with his neck and underarms and the small of his back. Then, they were tickling the base of Todd’s cock.

“Slave!” Master ordered. “Come here and wiggle your fingers under his balls.” The horny, pre-cum-soaked Todd couldn’t stand it anymore, and as soon as Kyle’s fingernails began dancing under his balls, Todd’s body accepted defeat, shooting the biggest wad of cum ever to emerge from his body. Rifle shots, practically. The shooting came in waves, each new one slightly weaker then the last. Yet as he shot, Master’s hands began working their way back to his ribs, and right as Todd was levelling from his euphoric climax, the tickles began to start all over again, and they were worse than before, his own body turned into a weapon against him. Todd lasted for one more minute … then passed out.

————————————–

It was morning. Kyle and Todd were both asleep, themselves tied stomach-to-stomach again, but this time head to toe. In fact, their toes were lightly inserted into each other’s mouths … and the backs of their heads were duck-taped into place around the opposing boy’s ankles. In fact, both boys, groggily waking up while chewing lightly on the other’s toes, noticed that they were tied up again, but why duct-tape? The answer was simple: the Master was gone.

“You awake, Todd?”
Todd groggily managed a “yes”, somewhat muffled by Kyle’s toes between his lips. Kyle moved a bit, hands duct-taped behind his back. He managed to wriggle free, then helped Todd. Kyle noticed his shorts were gone too … in fact, the hotel room was empty. The clothes both boys started here with were gone. Both boys only had shards of duct tape to conceal themselves with, but that wasn’t enough.

There was a knock on the door.
“Housekeeping!” shouted a voice.
Kyle ran to double-lock the door.
“Not now!” he said. “Come back later!”
Close one.

Todd, still weak, rolled onto his stomach, back facing the ceiling. Kyle looked at Todd’s back, and it had the phrase “Tickledum” written on his back. Todd approached closer … wait, it wasn’t written … it was tattooed. Man, the Master was serious … but what did “Tickledum” mean? Suddenly, Kyle’s eyes widened. He jolted to the restroom and tried to look at his back in the mirror .. and he could make out the backward word “Tickledee”. No. This couldn’t be.

Kyle shamefully walked back to the bed and sat on it next to Todd’s nude body. Todd mumbled some words out:
“Hey dude, where are our clothes?”
“I think the Master took them, Todd.”
“Well … fuck.”
“Yeah, I know.”

There was a pause. Todd’s strength was slowly returning. “Hey Kyle …”
“What?”
“Thanks for last night.”
“… um, … what?”
“That … that was the most intense experience I ever had in my life. It was … incredible.”
“Same here, buddy.”
“You got kind eyes, you know that?”
“Heh, yeah.”

Another moment. Kyle craned his neck down to Todd’s face. They kissed.

Tickledee and Tickledum had never been happier.

The Master