JourneyMan19
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Here's part 3, sorry it may have taken a little longer to finish than the other two parts. Please feel free to let me know where you think I need improvement as, having been a long-time observer and a new and very inexperienced writer of my own stories, I am anxious and keen to hear your thoughts.
Anyway, enjoy...
Ps: Here are the links to Parts 1 and 2 if you haven't read them yet and wish to start from the beginning
Part 1 - http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=178564
Part 2 - http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=178772
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For a long while Scott stood and stared at it, tucked at the back of the drawer, shining glossily in the light it was now exposed to. Scott’s mind had barely begun to grasp that day’s chain of events, every time he would start to believe that he wasn’t about to wake up sweating all over his sheets a new element, a new dimension, would be introduced, jolting through his consciousness like an electric shock. He was having to fight to prevent his hands from trembling as they went to work on his teacher’s bound bare feet. Yet here he stood, his mouth hanging open slightly as his eyes fixed on that sleek, pink object, hidden for God knows how long within the confines of his teacher’s desk. Just as Scott had begun to think, to hope that each and every one of Miss J’s secrets had been revealed.
Yet how could he have possibly “hoped” against this? Today Scott was in the middle of a situation so unlikely that he had never even thought to fantasize over it, today the borders of the realms of reality and possibility as Scott had always seen them had been blasted aside, obliterated as if they had never existed. As Scott reached inside the drawer and delicately removed the feather, he came to the conclusion that that was why he was unable to think straight. His subconscious must be restraining him out of wariness of that which he couldn’t quite understand. After all, didn’t people often fear that which they could not understand?
All of a sudden Scott found that he didn’t care to know the answer to that question. Almost as quickly as it had entered his thoughts, the line of reasoning had vanished. Scott no longer gave a damn whether or not he had exited reality and arrived to some strange, alien plain. Once again, all he could care about was the feeling of contact between his fingers and Miss Johnson’s perfect soft soles, the sensation of her toes wiggling frantically against his fingertips, the sound of her laughter, whether it was silent and tinkling or loud and tortured. Maybe, Scott thought, part of him knew that if he let this opportunity slip he would never, ever forgive himself. But he suspected that most of him was bent on maintaining that sensation, oblivious to all else around them. He smiled, knowing he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Turning around, now holding the feather between his thumb and index, he saw Miss J sat as she had been, as secure as ever. That look of apprehension clashing with excitement still shone from her eyes. He wondered how long he had been standing, dumbstruck, on the spot. It could have been 20 seconds or a few minutes. Either way, if Miss J was impatient or confused, she was hiding it very well.
“Bravo class” said Scott, taking his seat opposite her feet, “It’s nice to see you at least taking your education seriously and remembering to bring your equipement. However, I’m sure you know that this is required for intensive courses and that you still have much to learn in this degree. Shall we proceed?”
Without speaking this time but with her expression telling more of a story than her voice possibly could, Miss J nodded her head.
Without wasting any time, Scott inserted the feather between her toes. He hadn’t started his motions yet but that light, first touch had the greatest effect on her yet. She yanked her foot so sharply she almost pulled the feather from his grip and let out a laugh, not a shocked yelp but far more than one of her original giggles. It was long and lasting and full of lust, as if she could anticipate the time of torture that lay before her.
“Hehehehehehahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha”
In a snapping movement, Scott pulled the feather upwards so that it exited through the tops of her toes. Then, before Miss J even had time to think, it had been poked back through. Scott began to introduce patterns, sometimes he would simply swish it in and out of her toes and sometimes he would take his time to press down between them, so that the painfully soft plumage would drag through with more force and send her foot through a tingling, twitching madness. He eventually began to rotate the feather without withdrawing it from her scrunching and flexing toes. All the while her laughter was gradually picking up. By the sound of it Miss J was the closest she had been to complete hysterics. It wasn’t so much the intensity but the increased contact and the concentration on her sensitivity. She felt as if her nerves were approaching breaking point.
“HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, oh Scohohohohohohohott, hahahahahahahahaha”
Scott was showing no mercy whatsoever, the feather continued to probe his teacher’s piggies. Her laughter though was still under his control, the grand finale was yet to come. Exactly when, however, Scott did not know. The sound of Miss J’s laughter had him transfixed, gazing intently at her perfect feet as his hands manipulated the feather all over them. He decided to give the toes a short break and began to focus instead on stroking the feather down the length of her sole. He spared her face the occasional brief glance to enjoy her laughing features. Tears were now running from her eyes.
“Oh my GOHOHOHOHOHOHOD, I cahahahahahan’t hahahahahahahahaha, I can’t take it anyyy moooooooore, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
She had now been reduced to nearly complete screaming rather than any normal laughter. Under most circumstances, Scott will have been worried that somebody would overhear but his current state of mind blocked out his conscience with ease. Besides, he trusted that she would never have initiated this session in the first place had she not been confident that they were completely out of earshot. It was even distinctly possible that everybody else had left by now and that the pair of them now had the entire building to themselves. Not that leaving this room would be required.
Flipping the feather around, Scott began to use the opposite end to lightly trace patterns along Miss J’s soft sole. He even tickled the top of her foot for the first time but that clearly was not doing the trick so much. He paid particular attention to the area directly beneath her toes to keep her wiggling and foot movement at it’s maximum. Also for the first time, he had allowed her laughter to die down. It was now slower and deeper, a pleasant tone to his ears in a different way to her rapid light hysteria and screams. A hint of utter pleasure had now also entered her voice, normal, Scott thought, as compared to the torture beforehand this must feel both relieving and effectively quite arousing. He could not have hoped for better. He let her laughter drop to the point that it was almost a stream of giggles again.
“Hihihihihi, hahaha, hihihihihi”
Unwilling to take another backwards step in his “lesson”, Scott was suddenly struck by a stroke of inspiration as a result of his work with the feather. With one hand still running true, he turned around in his chair and began to hunt along the surfaces of the desks behind him and immediately found what he was looking for, a blue ink pen he was sure had been lying there all that time. He picked it up. No ink needed today, he thought. He unscrewed the pen and removed it’s ink cartridge, not at all in the mood to spoil those flawless feet with wet splotches of ink. He wasn’t really into writing on feet or getting them dirty in any way, acceptable as some of it may be he preferred keeping this particular pair as perfect as they could be.
Miss Johnson watched him closely as he screwed the pen back together, now dry.
“Well class, I think it’s time for some well-needed revision before you’re ready to take the test”
Again she didn’t respond, only smiled with as much interest as ever. She flexed her toes in his direction, for a few seconds exposing those pink-painted toe nails. She was teasing, inviting, almost begging him to step forward and “teach” in the way he knew best. And although it wasn’t a vocal invitation, Scott didn’t need to be asked twice.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 4 coming up in the not-too-distant future.
Anyway, enjoy...
Ps: Here are the links to Parts 1 and 2 if you haven't read them yet and wish to start from the beginning
Part 1 - http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=178564
Part 2 - http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=178772
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For a long while Scott stood and stared at it, tucked at the back of the drawer, shining glossily in the light it was now exposed to. Scott’s mind had barely begun to grasp that day’s chain of events, every time he would start to believe that he wasn’t about to wake up sweating all over his sheets a new element, a new dimension, would be introduced, jolting through his consciousness like an electric shock. He was having to fight to prevent his hands from trembling as they went to work on his teacher’s bound bare feet. Yet here he stood, his mouth hanging open slightly as his eyes fixed on that sleek, pink object, hidden for God knows how long within the confines of his teacher’s desk. Just as Scott had begun to think, to hope that each and every one of Miss J’s secrets had been revealed.
Yet how could he have possibly “hoped” against this? Today Scott was in the middle of a situation so unlikely that he had never even thought to fantasize over it, today the borders of the realms of reality and possibility as Scott had always seen them had been blasted aside, obliterated as if they had never existed. As Scott reached inside the drawer and delicately removed the feather, he came to the conclusion that that was why he was unable to think straight. His subconscious must be restraining him out of wariness of that which he couldn’t quite understand. After all, didn’t people often fear that which they could not understand?
All of a sudden Scott found that he didn’t care to know the answer to that question. Almost as quickly as it had entered his thoughts, the line of reasoning had vanished. Scott no longer gave a damn whether or not he had exited reality and arrived to some strange, alien plain. Once again, all he could care about was the feeling of contact between his fingers and Miss Johnson’s perfect soft soles, the sensation of her toes wiggling frantically against his fingertips, the sound of her laughter, whether it was silent and tinkling or loud and tortured. Maybe, Scott thought, part of him knew that if he let this opportunity slip he would never, ever forgive himself. But he suspected that most of him was bent on maintaining that sensation, oblivious to all else around them. He smiled, knowing he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Turning around, now holding the feather between his thumb and index, he saw Miss J sat as she had been, as secure as ever. That look of apprehension clashing with excitement still shone from her eyes. He wondered how long he had been standing, dumbstruck, on the spot. It could have been 20 seconds or a few minutes. Either way, if Miss J was impatient or confused, she was hiding it very well.
“Bravo class” said Scott, taking his seat opposite her feet, “It’s nice to see you at least taking your education seriously and remembering to bring your equipement. However, I’m sure you know that this is required for intensive courses and that you still have much to learn in this degree. Shall we proceed?”
Without speaking this time but with her expression telling more of a story than her voice possibly could, Miss J nodded her head.
Without wasting any time, Scott inserted the feather between her toes. He hadn’t started his motions yet but that light, first touch had the greatest effect on her yet. She yanked her foot so sharply she almost pulled the feather from his grip and let out a laugh, not a shocked yelp but far more than one of her original giggles. It was long and lasting and full of lust, as if she could anticipate the time of torture that lay before her.
“Hehehehehehahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha”
In a snapping movement, Scott pulled the feather upwards so that it exited through the tops of her toes. Then, before Miss J even had time to think, it had been poked back through. Scott began to introduce patterns, sometimes he would simply swish it in and out of her toes and sometimes he would take his time to press down between them, so that the painfully soft plumage would drag through with more force and send her foot through a tingling, twitching madness. He eventually began to rotate the feather without withdrawing it from her scrunching and flexing toes. All the while her laughter was gradually picking up. By the sound of it Miss J was the closest she had been to complete hysterics. It wasn’t so much the intensity but the increased contact and the concentration on her sensitivity. She felt as if her nerves were approaching breaking point.
“HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, oh Scohohohohohohohott, hahahahahahahahaha”
Scott was showing no mercy whatsoever, the feather continued to probe his teacher’s piggies. Her laughter though was still under his control, the grand finale was yet to come. Exactly when, however, Scott did not know. The sound of Miss J’s laughter had him transfixed, gazing intently at her perfect feet as his hands manipulated the feather all over them. He decided to give the toes a short break and began to focus instead on stroking the feather down the length of her sole. He spared her face the occasional brief glance to enjoy her laughing features. Tears were now running from her eyes.
“Oh my GOHOHOHOHOHOHOD, I cahahahahahan’t hahahahahahahahaha, I can’t take it anyyy moooooooore, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
She had now been reduced to nearly complete screaming rather than any normal laughter. Under most circumstances, Scott will have been worried that somebody would overhear but his current state of mind blocked out his conscience with ease. Besides, he trusted that she would never have initiated this session in the first place had she not been confident that they were completely out of earshot. It was even distinctly possible that everybody else had left by now and that the pair of them now had the entire building to themselves. Not that leaving this room would be required.
Flipping the feather around, Scott began to use the opposite end to lightly trace patterns along Miss J’s soft sole. He even tickled the top of her foot for the first time but that clearly was not doing the trick so much. He paid particular attention to the area directly beneath her toes to keep her wiggling and foot movement at it’s maximum. Also for the first time, he had allowed her laughter to die down. It was now slower and deeper, a pleasant tone to his ears in a different way to her rapid light hysteria and screams. A hint of utter pleasure had now also entered her voice, normal, Scott thought, as compared to the torture beforehand this must feel both relieving and effectively quite arousing. He could not have hoped for better. He let her laughter drop to the point that it was almost a stream of giggles again.
“Hihihihihi, hahaha, hihihihihi”
Unwilling to take another backwards step in his “lesson”, Scott was suddenly struck by a stroke of inspiration as a result of his work with the feather. With one hand still running true, he turned around in his chair and began to hunt along the surfaces of the desks behind him and immediately found what he was looking for, a blue ink pen he was sure had been lying there all that time. He picked it up. No ink needed today, he thought. He unscrewed the pen and removed it’s ink cartridge, not at all in the mood to spoil those flawless feet with wet splotches of ink. He wasn’t really into writing on feet or getting them dirty in any way, acceptable as some of it may be he preferred keeping this particular pair as perfect as they could be.
Miss Johnson watched him closely as he screwed the pen back together, now dry.
“Well class, I think it’s time for some well-needed revision before you’re ready to take the test”
Again she didn’t respond, only smiled with as much interest as ever. She flexed her toes in his direction, for a few seconds exposing those pink-painted toe nails. She was teasing, inviting, almost begging him to step forward and “teach” in the way he knew best. And although it wasn’t a vocal invitation, Scott didn’t need to be asked twice.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 4 coming up in the not-too-distant future.
