The helpless straight intruder is bound to the bed and interrogated by his captor and a horny friend.
The Intruder - Page 2
by Bound2Tkl
Art by BDManBrazil
TWO HANDS ARE BETTER THAN ONE
After a quick shower, I toweled off and wrapped it around my waist. As I brushed my wet hair back, I could barely hear the captive in the bedroom still occasionally giggling softly. He sounded a lot like one of those loony patients at a mental hospital that just sits in a wheelchair all day and giggles to himself, enjoying some silent amusement invisible to everyone around him.
Returning to the bedroom, I found my hunk still safely bound to the bed. He looked at me with pitiful eyes, they seemed to beg me for mercy. I sat on the bed at his waist and began to scrape my fingernail along the ridge at his belly button. "Getting any of your memory back, yet?" I asked sarcastically. The grimace on his face transformed into laughter as my finger sought out his sensitive skin. He writhed at the touches, his feet bouncing among the feathers at the foot of the bed. But still he didn't crack. "OK, have it your way. I've got all the time in the world. And reinforcements on the way. I bet you'll remember that name soon enough!"
I got up and went to the dresser, his eyes following me the whole time. Pulling out a pair of fresh underwear, I slid it up under the towel allowing the towel to fall to the floor. I could feel his eyes staring me down. I turned to find him intently watching me. "Enjoying the view?" I queried, wondering if there weren't some truth to that.
He glanced around nervously, his eyes settling on the feathers engulfing his feet. "You know, you are a sick person!" he challenged.
"Thank you for your assessment doctor," I answered with bemusement. I continued dressing.
"I'm not going to tell you my name or any other fucking thing," he insisted.
"Well, that's what you say now. But we'll see. I think we'll find your threshold today." I moved to the foot of the bed. "You know, you may want to reconsider holding back now. Because Brian will be here any minute. And he makes me look like a nice guy. He loves mercilessly torturing poor helpless guys like you. He's got no conscious, no mercy. And he has a mean arsenal of weapons he uses. You think these feathers tickle..." I picked up the headdress and began stroking them up and down his feet, producing a violent fit of laughter. "Bet you've never felt a wire brush scraping up these tender, sensitive soles of yours!"
He was yanking wildly now, trying desperately to escape my touches. The doorbell rang, signaling Brian's arrival. I stopped tickling. "Uh-oh, too late!" I announced. His eyes were filled with terror, pondering what Brian's arrival meant. I laid the headdress down on the bed and left to answer the door. Greeting Brian, I quickly filled him in on the incredulous story of how I ended up with this ticklish guy tied to my bed. Brian was dying to see him, so I took his bag of goodies and led him into the bedroom.
"Brain, meet...oops, I don't know his name yet. In fact, I was just trying to coax it out of him when you arrived. Maybe you can get him to talk."
"If he's as sensitive as you say, I bet we'll have him singing before long!" Brian answered, his eyes mesmerized by the site of this muscle-bound, hairy Adonis helplessly bound to the bed. The guy pulled nervously at his restraints. As Brain sat on the bed beside him, the prisoner looked petrified at the site of Brian. "Now let's see. Are you the strong, SENSITIVE type?" He scraped his fingernail across the captive's belly romping through the forbidden land mine. The guy jumped and started giggling which only served to egg Brian on, his pace increasing. "My, you are a sensitive one!"
"If you think he's ticklish there, watch this!" I exclaimed, grabbing the single white feather and moving to the foot of the bed. I dragged the tip swiftly up and down his soles, alternating between feet. The prisoner lost it, howling with laughter and yanking at the ropes. "And that's just with a feather!"
"Shit, we're going to have some fun here!" Brian agreed, mounting the waist of the captive resting his body on his hips. "Now let's talk about your name." Brian's hands slid up his body wrapping around his ribs and squeezing. The guy roared with laughter and tried to yank loose but Brian's weight on top of him restricted his movement even further. As he moved up his sides to his vulnerable armpits, I went to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers. From the kitchen, I could hear the poor guy howling and Brian laughing cruelly and verbally taunting him. Ever so often, the prisoner would really cry out sometimes yelling "No, please!" Brian must have been finding some really weak spots. My dick was at full attention now and I quickly returned to the scene of the crime.
Handing Brian the ice cold beer, I couldn't resist touching the bottle against the captive's taut belly and ribs, producing a predictable jump and scream with each touch. Brian laughed. "He's giving me quite a ride!" Brian announced happily.
"Did he come up with a name yet?" I asked, moving to the foot of the bed.
"Nope." Brian resumed the tickling action sending the guy into hysterics again. I gave his feet a few scrapes with my finger nail and then picked up the headdress, climbing onto the bed and straddling his ankles, my back to Brian. I swooped the mass of feathers down and began dusting his wriggling soles with the feathers. The victim cried out loudly and began yanking even harder, but we had him severely pinned with little room for movement.
Tears streamed down his face at this unprecedented double attack. I was sure we were creating the ultimate nightmare for this poor guy--to be helplessly subjected to an all out merciless tickling attack by not one but two overzealous guys. Plus, we were mixing the sensations, with Brian scraping his sharp fingernails across his firm skin while I delicately tickled his tender and ultra-sensitive soles with the light, airy touches of a dozen feathers. I was sure he would crack any moment.
"O.K., OK!" the prisoner cried out after just a few minutes of this intense, non-stop tickling attack.
"OK, what?" Brian demanded, our tickling unabated.
"I'll...hah, ah...tell...ha, ha...you my...ayeeha...name!" he managed to eke out between cries of laughter. "Just stop, please!"
Brian and I stopped our attack while the stranger worked to regain his breath. We both stared at him, anxiously awaiting his answer. It took a few seconds before he was even able to talk.
"On one condition," he finally added.
"Oh, come on now!" Brian exclaimed. "You're in no position to negotiate, here." Brian pressed his fingers into his ribs ready to resume the assault. Brian always was a tough one.
"No, wait!" he cried out desperately. "Please, I'll tell you my name. But then you've got to let me go to the bathroom.
"You've already taken care of that," I answered, referring to my earlier jar incident. "Brian, you should've seen it. I had to get a jar and turn him over. And then, the son-of-a-bitch refused to piss in the jar, so I guess you could say I tickled the piss out of him! It worked." We both laughed.
"But that's just it," the prisoner protested, "now you're about to tickle the SHIT out of me! Get the picture?"
"O.K., OK," I answered, "we'll get you relief. But quit stalling for time!" I brushed the feathers against his feet threateningly. He jumped and laughed out loud.
"No, no, O.K." he responded. He took a deep breath and finally mumbled his name, the result being indistinguishable.
"I can't hear you!" I barked, tickling his feet but this time with my finger nail.
"Aye, no!" he cried out. "I said, Luke!"
"Now there," I replied, "that's more like it. Wasn't that easy?" Brian and I jumped down from the bed to prepare Luke for a trip to the bathroom. This was going to take some work. First, we moved the rope from his knees up to his waist. Then, we untied his ankles allowing his feet to move freely. Brian and I each grabbed a cuff of his jeans and, after advantageously throwing in a finger-nail scrape up his soles that almost resulted in us both getting kicked (God, Luke was sensitive!), we pulled with all of our might to pull his tight jeans off his body. The pants finally pulled free throwing his bare legs down on the bed.
Luke was enjoying the minor freedom using it to stretch out his cramped legs and scratching his itchy soles with the toenails from the other foot. We didn't dare tickle his feet now for fear of turning his legs into dangerous flying objects. I climbed onto the bed between his legs and quickly tugged his boxer shorts down his legs, his rather large dick springing loose wagging in the air. He was now completely naked.
Brian grabbed a formidable pair of steel shackles from his bag and attached them to his ankles. Then, we removed the rope from his elbows and finally from his wrists, leaving his arms free and the only rope attaching him to the bed around his waist. He gladly pulled his arms down and massaged his tired limbs, which were no doubt extremely cramped by this point. I noticed Brian had sat down on the other side of the bed, his back to Luke while he rummaged through his back. Before I could suggest Brian be more careful around this potentially dangerous prisoner, Luke seized the opportunity and lunged for Brian. Brian was caught completely off guard and before he knew what had happened, he was in a choke hold fighting for his breath but unable to get the strong assailant off of him.
Luke had lost it, screaming that he was going to kill Brian. Not exactly sure what to do but afraid for Brian's life and of losing control of our prisoner, I instinctively lunged for Luke's exposed and vulnerable ribs. My hands grasped both of his rib cages and I began squeezing and poking his ticklish ribs, hoping it would force him to loosen his grip on Brian. Luke began roaring with laughter and twisting wildly trying desperately to escape my touches. Fortunately, one rope held his waist to the bed preventing him from getting away from my hands.
The scene had turned to chaos, with Brian yelling and trying to fight his attacker, me tickling the hell out of his ribs and insisting he let go of Brian and the prisoner thrashing about trying to maintain his grip while avoiding my attack on his ribs. His armpits were also exposed by his outstretched arms so I decided to move up there, hoping they were even more sensitive. Sure enough, he cried out and loosened his grip some trying to bring his arms down and block my touches.
That was all the break Brian needed as he managed to twist around slightly until his hands had access to Luke's extremely sensitive belly. Brian began a tickling assault on his stomach. Luke cried out, now dying from the simultaneous tickling attack on his stomach and armpits. He finally couldn't stand the sensations any more and loosened his grip on Brian to go after and prevent our hands from touching his sensitive skin.
While Brian kept working at him I grabbed open the top drawer of the bedside stand where I kept my gun. Pointing the loaded gun at Luke, I breathlessly ordered him to stop and get his hands into the air. He looked at me and realized his one chance for freedom was gone. He tried to put his hands up but Brian was so pissed he couldn't stop attacking his torso. Luke was laughing and trying to keep his hands in the air but the sensations kept forcing his arms down to protect his vulnerable stomach and sides.
"Brian, cut it out!" I ordered. Brian stopped and Luke raised his hands sheepishly. "That was really stupid, man!" I told Luke.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Brian exclaimed, trying to regain his breath. "Man, I'm going to make you wish you'd never done that, asshole! You just threw away your one mercy card."
"We'll do payback in a minute, let's just get him to the john and back in bed where we can get him safely restrained." I kept the gun on Luke as Brian pulled a pair of handcuffs from his bag. He pulled Luke's surrendered hands down behind his back and cuffed them.
"You're going to be sorry," Brian said mockingly as he poked his finger nail into Luke's now vulnerable belly. Luke laughed and started squirming from Brian's touches. Losing his balance, Luke fell back and started rolling all over the bed trying desperately to avoid Brian's tickling. Brian started to mount the prisoner to hold him in place and inflict a prolonged tickling assault.
"Brian!" I shouted. "C'mon, man. Give it a rest and help me get him to the bathroom. We grabbed our naked prisoner up and marched him into the bathroom, the gun pointed at him the whole time. He wasn't able to walk easily with the shackles on his ankles so he shuffled slowly along, his dick bouncing up and down in a funny dance as he walked. Sitting him on the toilet, I moved just outside the bathroom with the door opened, offering him a little privacy but no opportunity for foolish escape attempts.
Brian was still rubbing his neck, reddened from the assailants tight grip, obviously a little shaken. I figured he'd learned his lesson. "I'm ready for that son-of-a-bitch!" he exclaimed, still feeling burned by the surprise attack. "Wait till he sees what I've got in my trusty little bag. He doesn't know what tickling is!" I nodded with a smile, glancing at the prisoner who looked a little disturbed by Brian's comments.
We led Luke back into the bedroom and threw his body on the bed on his back. It took both Brian and I struggling to center his lead-like body onto the bed. Attaching ropes at each corner of the bed, we unshackled his ankles and reattached them to the ropes at each corner. Sitting Luke up, we removed the cuffs and pulled him back down with his hands outstretched toward the upper corners of the bed, quickly securing his wrists with the rope. Now our prisoner was helplessly spread-eagled, his muscular naked body open and inviting to our devilish whims. Just to be on the safe side, we reattached a length of rope across his elbows and knees to prevent escape by excessive movement.
WE HAD WAYS OF MAKING HIM TALK
"Oh, Luke!" Brian sang mockingly as he picked up a feather, examining it like it was a knife. "We're back. And ready to retaliate for your stupid attack." Luke squirmed anxiously as Brian slowly lowered the feather toward Luke's bare sole. I picked up another feather and headed for the same foot. We both began scraping the feathers up and down and around his highly sensitive foot. He screamed and began cackling with laughter while pulling wildly at the ropes.
"God, can you believe feathers alone can drive him this fuckin' crazy?"
"Now that's a ticklish guy! More sensitive than Dan?"
"Hell, yeah!"
"Pick up that other feather and use it on his other foot. That should really get him!"
Luke was begging for mercy but we were pretty much ignoring him. After tickling his feet for a while, we started moving up his bare legs, four feathers in motion. His thighs proved to be quite sensitive, sending him howling and thrashing. Now without pants protecting his crotch, we couldn't help but explore his swollen cock. Four feathers attacked stroking up his shaft, across his enlarged head, tickling his balls and sliding under to tease his ass. He really went wild his butt jumping clear off the bed. We only worked this area for a few minutes for fear of stroking him off by mistake.
Continuing up his body, every inch of ultra-sensitive skin was tortured with feathers. No area was safe, not his stomach, ribs, armpits, arms--even hands! Brian even attacked his neck taunting him for having choked his own neck. Not surprisingly, his neck was also very sensitive.
After a few minutes of four-feather frolicking, I moved to Brian's ear and quietly suggested it was time for some more truth and dare. When we removed his pants earlier, I noted a set of keys in the pants pocket. While Brian continued tormenting Luke, I Moved to the pants lying on the floor, searching the pockets but finding only a set of keys. One appeared to be a car key with the other being a house key. I moved to the foot of the bed and scraped the cold, metal shaft of the car key up the prisoner's bare foot. That grabbed his attention!
"Luke, there's something else we'd like to know," I explained. "This appears to be a car key. We want to know what kind of car it is and where it's parked."
"Yeah," Brian chimed in, "we want to take a little joy ride."
"Fuck you!" Luke blurted out.
"Well, that's not a very cooperative spirit!" I joked.
"Brian, think we can convince Luke here to be a little more cooperative?"
"Let me get some things out of my bag that might just manage to coax the information out of him." Brian opened his sinister black bag producing another half dozen exotic and intense looking feathers, some makeup brushes, a toothbrush, a bottle of vegetable oil and some silk flowers including a diabolical evergreen branch with dozens of sharp tentacles. Luke's eyes bulged wide open at the arsenal Brian assembled. He started breathing hard and twisting at the ropes trying desperately to free himself from the impending torture. He looked panicked and trapped, extremely vulnerable to exploitation of his extreme weakness.
"You guys are crazy if you think I'm going to tell you tha...hah, hah, aye!" his declaration cut short by our attack with the objects before us. We put this poor guy through the most severe punishment yet scraping the various implements across his most sensitive areas, sending him into fits of laughter and twisting and bouncing that had the bed in motion. The evergreen branch proved most lethal causing him to scream until horse as we dragged its needles across his soles, belly, ribs and armpits. We continued to remind him that relief was available if he'd just tell us what we looked for but he was determined not to reveal these critical facts, obviously aware that doing so might lead us to his private life.
We hadn't used the brushes yet so we decided to give him a short respite to reconsider his silence. "Listen, Luke," I implored. "If you've never felt the intense sensations of a brush--and I suspect you haven't--you don't want to. Brian can attest to that. He's had them used on him and knows they are the most diabolical of all tickling devices. Are you sure you don't want to tell us?"
He looked at me, a terribly sad and pitiful look on his face. Not wanting to divulge the information and certainly not wanting to endure the brushes, he nonetheless remained silent. So Brian and I began massaging his feet with the vegetable oil, a necessary lubricant with brushes. Naturally, this sent him into fits of laughter. But that didn't compare to his reaction when we began scraping the brushes up his feet. His reactions were the most violent we had witnessed yet, with wild thrashing and cries of anguish. I thought this would most certainly do the trick and force him to spill his guts. Even Brian, who manages quite a resistance and can hold out for quite a while to my tickling attacks on him, can't stand the brush treatment. The nastiest attitude can turn into begging and pleading when I apply a brush. So for a guy as ticklish as Luke, I was even a little hesitant to use them. He rocked back and forth and laughed until he was horse. Tears streamed down his face and he broke out into a sweat from all of the movement. He was truly in agony, pure and simple. Yet, he refused to give us the information we demanded. We put him through pure hell, torturing his bare soles with a variety of brushes for a full ten minutes--undoubtedly for what must of seemed like an eternity to poor Luke--but he remained close-lipped.
We stood perplexed, not sure what it would take, but determined to get the information out of him, somehow. For lack of a better idea, we decided to turn him over. Maybe some fresh, untouched places might become extra sensitive in light of the other sensations he'd endured. So, we worked to turn his solid body over, reattaching the ropes. His naked body was now tied spread-eagled to the bed with his back side to us, his face turned sideways on the pillow. The poor guy was moaning, begging us to stop. He offered money and all kinds of merchandise, anything if only we'd stop tickling him. Anything, of course, but what we really wanted. I was growing even more curious--why was he willing to endure such punishment and agony in order to hide any information which could lead us to his regular life. I wondered what he was so desperate to hide.
So we forged ahead exploiting what we believed to be his greatest weakness. We each took a feather in hand and moved to his feet, now helplessly pinned to the bed with his sensitive soles facing up and completely vulnerable to our touches. He buried his face into the pillow and began another series of raucous laughter as we stroked the feathers up and down his feet. Face down tends to make the feet even more vulnerable because the victim can't really bend or twist them much so the feather (or other tickling device) makes more consistent contact.
We slowly dragged the feathers up his legs. He cried out when we reached the indentation behind his knees, apparently a particularly sensitive spot. Naturally, we hung out for a while in that region circling the area with the tip of the feathers. As we continued our path up his legs, the volume and intensity of laughter increased indicating extreme sensitivity. Our plan had worked, providing us with a fresh hot spot to tickle. His butt wriggled as we stroked the feathers up and down the back of his thighs, dipping down into the inner regions of both legs. We alternated between using the tip of the feather and turning it on its side so that dozens of tentacles made contact with his skin.
He cried out as I drew my feather up and started tickling his ass. I'm sure it was the combination of vulnerability and potential risk of having his ass exposed and vulnerable to us as well as his sensitivity that was causing him to react. Brian plunged the tip of his feather down his ass scraping along the crack and reaching the underneath side of his balls. As Brian tickled his balls, Luke howled and rolled back and forth as much as possible.
Brian and I shot each other a knowing glance, conceding that we might be close to breaking him. It was time to divide and conquer. I took over the ass, thigh and ball tickling position while Brian climbed on top of our prisoner straddling his hips. Brian wrapped his hands around Luke's sides starting near is armpits and drug his fingernails down Luke's side. Luke roared with laughter and shook uncontrollably. Brian's nails scraped down his side reaching his sensitive ribs where they began a gentle kneading and fingernail massage. Meanwhile, I was teasing Luke's ass and balls with my feather. The pressure had to be incredibly intense. We kept reminding Luke he could stop the attack simply by telling us what we wanted to know.
Brian's hands continued their trek down his side reaching his abdomen. Brian is very good at locating an incredibly intense spot on the lower abdomen and the leverage of coming from behind makes it that much more effective. His fingers probed this area thoroughly, locating a spot that caused violent rocking when he began scraping his nails and squeezing with his hands. Luke was moving violently on the bed trying to escape our touches.
Suddenly, Luke cried out. But kind of in a strange way. He gasped and acted odd. Brian and I stopped our tickling to figure out what was going on. Luke moaned and carried on breathing hard, his whole body shaking. We finally figured it out--he'd gotten himself off from the rubbing of his cock on the bed below.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Brian cried out. "Did you just jack off?" Luke didn't answer, looking like he was truly physically and emotionally spent and working hard to regain his breath. Brian climbed off and lifted his body slightly to confirm. Sure enough, the bed was soaked with a creamy substance. "So, could it be that you really get off on being tickled?" Brian teased. Luke just rolled his eyes in disgust.
"Brian, I don't think Luke has any idea what happens to his body when he comes," I suggested. "Luke, did you know that after you come, your entire body is about twenty times as ticklish?"
"Bullshit!" he argued, weary and spent.
"More like forty percent!" Brian chimed in.
"You guys are full of shit. You're just trying to psyche me out."
"We can prove it," I offered. I began stroking the feather across his leg to demonstrate. "Tickle just a little?" Luke's eyes opened wide with fear as he suddenly realized we weren't lying and that the feather did tickle even more.
"Oh shit!" he cried out as the laughter resumed. That was our cue as Brian and I dug in, this time with our fingernails. We began a tickling frenzy that included every inch of skin we could get to. We scraped his sides, armpits, stomach, legs and feet sending him into spasms of laughter.
I think his feet were the most sensitized so I climbed on top of his ankles and began a ferocious tickling attack on his soles. His laughter soon turned to weeping as the sensations became too intense to handle. This time, it only took us a few minutes before he cried out for a truce. We stopped tickling to allow him to regain his breath. Tears steamed down his face, a look of pain and anguish overtaking his eyes.
"Fuck!" he conceded, out of breath, "I'll tell you. I can't take any more of this."
"O.K., where is the car?" He hesitated for a moment so I began scraping my nail down his foot. "You're stalling!" I accused.
"O.K., OK!" he cried out between laughs. "It's a...blue BMW."
"Where?" My finger made contact with his foot.
"Aye! OK, OK! It's down the block by the tennis courts." Brian moved to the window to see if he could see it.
"I don't see it," he complained. I immediately dug my fingernail into his foot.
"C'mon, don't jerk us around!" I demanded.
"Hey! Stop! I'm not lying. It's at the top end of the courts, the convertible."
"Oh, I can't see that far," Brian conceded. He moved to the living room where his view extended to the far end of the courts. "O.K., I see it."
"Now see, that wasn't so hard was it?" I mocked. I climbed off his sweaty legs. "Brian, I'm going to go make sure this guy isn't full of shit. I'll be right back."
"O.K., I'll keep an eye on ol' Luke here," Brian said slyly. I suspected Brian still felt some anger from the earlier attack on his throat and he might want to see Luke suffer some more.
"C'mon, man," I urged, "give the guy a break. We promised we'd give him a break if he told us. We have to keep our word."
"Don't worry," he reassured me, "I promise I won't tickle Luke any more while you're gone."
TAKING LUKE FOR A RIDE
I left and walked to the car. It was a gorgeous, late-model BMW convertible in sapphire blue. "Geez, he must be pretty successful at this burglary thing!" I thought to myself. Inserting the key into the lock and turning, I swung open the door. Immediately it hit me that this car probably had an alarm! I held my breath and waited for the alarm to sound. But there was only silence. My heart was beating loudly as I regained my senses. "Funny," I thought to myself, "a burglar doesn't even use his alarm!"
Just to be certain, I climbed into the car, enjoying the luxurious feel of the leather seat. I grew excited as I inserted the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life, the car purring like a tiger. I couldn't resist taking the car for a quick spin around the parking lot, enjoying the feeling of raw power. What a great car it was! After a couple of spins around the complex, I returned to my building and careened it swiftly into a parking spot. I admired the fine automobile as I got out and closed the door.
"Nice car!" a voice called out from behind. My heart stopped. Without looking, I recognized the voice to be that of one of the leasing agents from the complex. I started sweating, trying to figure out how to explain the car. I turned to face her, a smile plastered on my face.
"Thanks," I said dryly, "er...it's not mine!" My confession really backed me into a corner. "Er, it's...uh...a friend's car." That seemed fairly smooth. "I'm just watching it for the weekend."
"Fun assignment," she responded and began her walk back to the office. I leaned against the car and tried to regain my breath and bring my heart back to a normal pace.
"Fun assignment, indeed," I thought to myself. If only she knew the half of it! Moving to the passenger side, I opened the door and plopped down in the seat popping open the glove box. Bingo! There sat our victim's wallet. Upon opening the wallet, his handsome face immediately stared back at me, his driver's license displayed in a cellophane pocket. It was a terrible picture of him, not very flattering. But then whose driver's license is flattering?
"Henry Lucas Miller," I read aloud from his license.
"3200 Franklin Blvd., Apartment 1102. Hmmm..." That address sounded terribly familiar. Then it hit me--that's the high-rise just down the street from me. In fact, I looked out the car window and observed the building rising majestically from a grove of trees across the way. "Well, I'll be damned. A neighbor!" I wondered if he had been casing my place from his balcony or something.
I returned to my apartment. As I unlocked the door, I heard Luke cry out, as though in pain, followed by raucous laughter. Man, Brian just couldn't help from tickling him. I felt bad because I feel strongly about my word and I'd promised him a break. I walked swiftly into the bedroom.
"Brian, c'mon!" I complained. "Give the guy a break, huh?" I was surprised at what I saw in the bedroom. Luke, still tied down on his stomach, was laughing hysterically while Brian's tongue vigorously lapped globs of ice cream dripping down poor Luke's bare soles. A few drops had trickled down between his toes and Brian eagerly thrust his tongue after them, really driving Luke crazy. The cry of pain I heard as I came in must have been the ice cold dessert being dolloped onto his sensitive skin.
"Look, I did as I promised," Brian argued. "I haven't tickled him once since you left!" Brian was right, if not at least on a technicality. "Fact is, he was lucky he's on his stomach. I love belly button sundaes!"
I felt sorry for Luke, Brian cleaning off the last few trickles of ice cream from his soles. A glass of melting ice also sat on the bed and the back of Luke's legs and ass were wet. Brian must have done some glacier exploration as well. Ouch! I sat on the bed beside Luke's rib. Pulling Luke's drivers license from my pocket, I scraped the edge along his exposed rib. He jumped and whirled his face around in my direction.
"Guess what, Brian," I said coyly. "Our friend here's name isn't Luke, after all!"
"What, why the son of a bitch!" Brian shouted out, ready to attack him.
"Wait, it is too!" Luke shouted out desperately.
"Your driver's license says your name is Henry." Brian looked ready to really attack him.
"Yeah, that's my first name!" Luke argued. "But my middle name is Lucas, or Luke!"
"He's right," I conceded. "I was just playing with you!" I laughed and quickly shared my findings with Brian, taking a few opportunities to scrape the crisp driver's license up his side, which I also noticed was wet, apparently from the ice. Even his armpits contained a few droplets of water hanging on his armpit hair. "See, I told you Brian was pretty vicious, Luke! I think it's time I paid a little visit to Luke's apartment and see what dirt I can dig up." Luke's eyes were filled with alarm, realizing how incredibly vulnerable he really was at this moment.
"Look, guys," Luke pleaded. "Couldn't we just make some sort of deal here. I can get you pretty much anything you want." He really was desperate not to have us learn more about him. Which made me even more curious.
"Well, actually, Luke," I offered sincerely, "a deal is just what I had in mind." His eyes lit up. "But you see, I really feel that our bargaining position would be much stronger if we knew a little more about you. That's why I need to visit your place." His eyes sunk, realizing we were going to play his misfortune to the max. "But first, we need to get you cleaned up and fed."
This was going to be tricky. First, we started the water running in the tub. Then we untied him from the bed, this time using the gun for control as we led him into the bathroom. His arms were sore, his hands rubbing them on the way in. The hair of his stomach was matted down and sticky from his earlier explosion. Stopping the water filling the tub, we ordered him to get in.
Fortunately, my building was a new one and the tub had been equipped with a railing on three sides for assisting the handicap. We took four sets of handcuffs and cuffed his wrists to the rail above his head. His ankles were cuffed to the railing at the foot of the tub, forcing his legs and feet to be suspended on the side of the tub and wall. Naturally, we didn't pass up the opportunity to scrape our nails up and down his exposed and vulnerable feet, his whole body reacting and sloshing the water in the tub.
Brian and I settled in for one of the most fun baths we'd ever encountered. We ran our hands along his body, sloshing water on every inch of his skin. He'd giggle each time our finger nails caressed his skin in a ticklish spot. Then we drained the water until about an inch and a half remained in the tub. He was cold and shivering slightly from the air drying his wet body.
Then came the fun cycle--the soaping. His laughter echoed off the tile walls as four completely lathered hands explored every inch of his body. The soap served as a lubricant as our nails scraped across his stomach, ribs, armpits and those wildly sensitive feet. Brian spotted a back brush near the tub and devilishly scraped it across all of Luke's lathered skin. He roared with laughter, especially when Brian took the brush bristles to his lubricated bare feet.
We were thoroughly enjoying this bath. While Brian "cleaned" Luke's feet, I lathered my hands and cleaned up Luke's swollen cock. My hands glided effortlessly up and down his shaft. Unfortunately, I went a little too far and suddenly he started coming, crying out in ecstasy. Brian looked up to see what was happening, his brushing stopping. Luke's look of happiness soon turned to concern as he remembered the effect of jacking off on his sensitivity.
"C'mon guys!" he pleaded anxiously. "Give me a break, please!"
"Yeah, I suppose so," I offered, winking slyly at Brian. Let's rinse him off. Brian and I cupped our hands in the water and rinsed the soap off Luke's body. He looked relieved at our sudden display of human decency.
"Oops," I said teasingly, as we finished rinsing him.
"Look, he still has some semen on his stomach here."
"Well, you know what that means," Brian teased. "We'll just have to lather him up again." We laughed devilishly as we soaped up our hands again, Luke's face falling realizing we weren't going to cut him any slack. Our hands attacked his helpless body, applying a fresh coat of soap. He cried out like an injured animal, the sensations now intensified. We tickled every inch of his skin clean...
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