Paul Jones
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2005
- Messages
- 89
- Points
- 0
Paul was sprawled out on a padded table. A woman, apparently a teacher of some
sort, had applied restraints to his wrists and ankles. Except for his shorts, the boy was
naked.
Then some girls entered. Paul squirmed in deep embarrassment. It was so humiliating
to be half-naked and helpless in front of these girls!
The teacher greeted them warmly, and said, “You girls have been invited here today
because you’ve all tested as having a high propensity for tickling.”
“For that reason, you’ve been enrolled in my class on how to tickle a boy. I think that
each of you has the makings of a truly sadistic tickler—like me.”
The word tickling aroused immediate enthusiasm in the girls, as if it had been on
the minds of all of them. Their eyes lit up. The word electrified Paul with a thrill of
excitement. His penis stirred.
The teacher continued, “Girls, say hello to Paul. Isn’t he adorable?” The girls eyed
Paul impishly, and began to smile mischievously as the purpose of this session became
clear to them. But Paul groaned.
“Would you like to have some fun with him?” she asked. They eagerly responded that
they would.
The teacher continued, “Well, I happen to know a delicious secret. Paul is ticklish—
very, very ticklish! Isn’t that amusing?” Paul squirmed in humiliation.
She added, with wicked amusement, “One of the pleasures of girlhood is tickling
vulnerable boys (just as one of the pleasures of womanhood is tickling vulnerable
men).” The students nodded and smiled appreciatively.
“There are three appropriate conditions. The boy should be naked (or nearly so),
helpless, and—most especially—ticklish, like Paul.” The girls tittered.
Their eyes twinkled with merriment as they surveyed the boy before them. Knowing
that he was ticklish, they took dark pleasure in having him nearly naked and helpless.
Each did, indeed, have “a high propensity for tickling.”
She drew her nails across his stomach, making him squirm and laugh heartily. “You
can see that Paul is a very ticklish young man indeed!” she laughed.
“That tells us something. Only chaste boys are so immoderately ticklish. So, Paul
must be must still be a virgin. Isn’t that so, Paul?” Paul blushed with embarrassment.
“You don’t have any idea what real tickle torture is, but you’re about to find out.”
Paul couldn’t be sure whether she was addressing him, the class, or both.
“We’ll begin with some deep tickling. Now watch, girls.”
She pressed into his stomach with her thumbs, and wriggled them to create a deep
tickling effect. He bellowed hysterically. Then she rhythmically squeezed his thighs
above his knees with gusto, making him roar with laughter.
“Now we’ll switch to lighter tickling.”
With that, she again drew her nails across his stomach, making him laugh
uncontrollably. “Kooch-kooch-kooch,” she taunted.
He laughed hysterically as she tickled his armpits. “Kitchee-kitchee-koo!”
she taunted. “Observe how exceptionally ticklish his armpits are.”
“Doesn’t he howl beautifully?” she asked. The class heartily agreed that he did.
“You should augment your tickling with verbal taunts like ‘Kitchee-kitchee-koo’
and ‘Kooch-kooch-kooch.’ That will increase Paul’s humiliation.
“I’m a great believer in humiliation as a component of male tickling,” she explained.
”And nothing humiliates a boy more than being overpowered and tickled by girls,”
she added knowingly, winking at the girls, who tittered in acknowledgment.
“The use of verbal taunts during a tickling session will make the whole experience
more maddening him.”
“It’s especially effective if you use childish taunts like ‘Hoochee-koochee-koochee.’
That’s because tickling reduces Paul (like most boys his age) to the level of a
blubbering little boy something that he finds unspeakably embarrassing—quite
maddening, in fact.
Paul blushed at her words—because they were so true! The girls were fascinated
by her insights.
Then she playfully tickled his feet. “No! Please! Not my feet!” he cried out.
She explained, “Many people particularly dislike having their feet tickled.”
“There is something elemental about tickling the feet. Many people who can tolerate
(or even enjoy) being tickled elsewhere on the body frequently find foot tickling utterly
intolerable.”
“On the other hand, some people actually like having their feet tickled. Even
prolonged tickling of their feet is often ineffective. Be on the lookout for such boys,
and adjust your technique accordingly.”
Then she began a merciless foot-tickling assault, accompanied by “Kooch-kooch-
kooch!”
He went wild, wiggling his torso as much as the bonds would allow, and wailing with
frenzied laughter.
“Oh, please stop!” he cried between howls of tortured laughter.
“Now watch this.” She started gently biting his toes, bringing forth peals of hearty
laughter from the lad.
Then she started tickling his ribs vigorously, while regaling him with “Itchee-kitchee-
kitchee!”
Throughout his ordeal, the girls were delighted by the teacher’s mastery of the art
of tickling.
Then he found himself squealing as she deftly tickled his breasts.
“Don’t overlook a boy’s breasts,” she cautioned. “They can be as ticklish as our own.”
Next, she resumed tickling Paul’s stomach. She made it twitch, as he shrieked with
laughter. He wiggled his torso as much as the bonds would allow, and screamed with
riotous laughter.
“Look at the cute worm squirm!” she teased. The girls tittered. He blushed at hearing
himself described as cute.
“Oh, this is so cruel! Please stop!” he begged. “Kitchee-kitchee-koo!” she replied.
She stopped to ask the students, “Isn’t it wonderful that mere fingernails can generate
such lovely hysterics? Did you all notice how the muscles of his tummy quivered
wherever I touched it?
The girls enthusiastically indicated that they had. “That’s the sign of an extremely
ticklish tummy.”
She resumed tickling her frenzied victim. She tickled his most sensitive spots: his
delightful armpits and breasts, his rollicking ribs and quivering stomach, and his feet.
Paul shrieked in ticklish agony as the sensations exploded in his brain.
“Ahahahaahahah! Please! Nooooooahahahahaahah! Ahha! I can't stand it!
Ahahaahahaa,” he cried.
The devastating effect of her tickling was evident in Paul's hysterical writhing. He was
suffering true tickle torture at the hands of a she-devil well versed in the art, and intent
upon tormenting and humiliating him.
The teacher laughed with delight as she tickled the daylights out of him. The students
were delighted, too.
Roars of hysterical laughter issued forth from her hapless tickle toy. Paul shook the
room with the vibrations of his howling laughter.
When she paused, he screamed, “Oh, please stop! This is agony!”
“Oh, I love it when he begs for mercy, don’t you?” she asked the students.
“Oh, yes, yes!” they answered.
“You didn’t know that tickling could be such torture, did you, Paul?” she teased.
“No, no!” he admitted.
“Now we’ll employ a couple of useful tickling tools.” She displayed two electric
toothbrushes of a type noted for its brisk vibrations. Paul gasped in dismay.
“How do you think he’ll like to be tickled with these?” The students were clearly
delighted by the idea.
“I call these charming toys my tickle sticks,” she chuckled.
She smiled mischievously, and said, “For the ultimate in tickling, nothing is more
effective than electric toothbrushes.”
She continued, “The tickle sticks are especially effective on the feet. So we’ll start
there.”
She applied the wicked implements to his feet. She tickled his soles and toes
with cruel effectiveness. He squirmed frantically, and shrieked with laughter.
Because the students took devilish glee in the foot tickling, she kept it up awhile.
She next turned her attention to the rest of his helpless body. Smiling impishly, she
glided her tools over his armpits, breasts, ribs, and stomach. This assault drove him
to new levels of hilarity.
Then she put her toys aside. “Wasn’t that fiendish?” she asked him merrily.
The students cheered with admiration.
He lay exhausted from his tickling ordeal, while she stood above him, smiling
mischievously.
But soon, she resumed her tickling, making him shriek uncontrollably. Her technique
was excruciating.
She tickled him so skillfully that she brought forth peals of hysterical laughter. “Don’t
you wish you could crawl out of your skin right now?” she taunted him. She was right.
She tickled the poor boy for many minutes, non-stop, all over his deliciously ticklish
body, until he was nearly out of his mind.
“Please, no more,” Paul said, hoarse from laughter. “Agonizing, isn’t it?” she teased.
She had reached the point where merely wiggling her fingers near his hyper-ticklish
body made him squirm and giggle–and beg, “Oh, please, no!”
She said to the students, “I consider myself an expert in the delightful art of tickling.
What do you think?”
They heartily agreed.
She finally applied the dreadful thumbs-in-the-groins tickle. “Goochee-goochee-
goochee! Isn’t that maddening?”
Paul howled with hysterical laughter, shaking his head from side to side, and writhing
in ticklish agony. “Hoochee-koochee-koochee!” she laughed.
Until now, Paul had never realized that the human body could experience such
sensations: an astonishing blend of ecstasy and agony. He had been tickled before,
but nothing in his experience had prepared him for this!
With a gleeful light in her eyes, she asked, “Isn’t it terribly embarrassing to be tickled
silly in front of these girls?”
“Yes, yes!” he moaned.
“But the worst is yet to come.”
Paul didn’t know what she meant, but he soon found out.
For then she said, “Girls, would you like to have some fun with Paul now?”
“Oh, yes!” they answered.
Then she said, “All right, then. He's all yours! Have fun. And be sure to humiliate him!”
”Oh, we will!” they replied.
“Oh, no!” he cried out. “This can’t be happening!” The students beamed with
delight. This was what they’d been waiting for.
“Always remember the three S’s of tickling: make your victim squirm, shriek,
and suffer!” The girls tittered in amusement.
They took positions around the table, surrounding him, surrounding his exposed,
helpless, invitingly ticklish body. This was what they’d been waiting for.
They began tickling Paul all over his body. This mass attack was hideously
effective. Paul broke into convulsive, howling laughter. Being tickled all over at once
was a new and mind-blowing experience for him.
As he bellowed hysterically, a girl taunted, “Kitchee-kitchee-koo!”
Look at him squirm!” another cried out in delight. “Listen to him howl!”
When they paused briefly, he screamed hysterically, “Girls, please have mercy!
I can’t stand it! I’m too ticklish for this! I’M TOO TICKLISH!”
“Do you hear that, girls?” the teacher asked. “He’s too ticklish for this. How delightful!”
The girls laughed heartily.
Throughout his ordeal, the girls wore the wickedest grins, revealing the wicked pleasure
that they were deriving from tickling him, and thereby humiliating him. There was
a touch of cruelty in their eyes.
He could tell that they all enjoyed, not only his shrieks of laughter, but also his wriggling,
writhing, and squirming in response to their unmerciful tickling.
They teased him unrelentingly. “Oh, Paul, you’re so ticklish! You’re as ticklish as
a girl.” He found that last remark particularly humiliating.
Then one of them cried out, ”Let’s tickle him to death!” He shuddered at
the idea, for he felt sure that they could do it, if they wished.
“Oh yes, let’s!” responded another. “I’ve always wanted to do that to someone.”
The teacher said, “So have I. Wouldn’t that be a lovely way to die, Paul?” Then she
added, “But I suppose we’d better not.”
Then she made them stop to let him rest awhile.
They all regarded him with sinful satisfaction, delighted by his exhaustion and
humiliation. They took sinful pleasure in seeing that they had reduced him to a
groveling blob of silly putty.
Then the teacher began what was to be her final assault. This round of tickling was far
more vigorous than anything that had gone before.
Her nimble fingers mercilessly worked over his dreadfully ticklish body—from his
armpits to his feet.
Tears filled his eyes, and he laughed louder and longer than ever before in his young
life.
The students were simply delighted, both by her virtuoso performance, and by Paul’s
maniacal shrieking.
She pressed on, showing him no mercy. Paul experienced the most maddening
tickling sensations imaginable.
Finally, and most embarrassingly, he climaxed in his shorts (copiously). The girls
cheered in delight, but Paul was dreadfully humiliated.
The climaxing served to enhance his already heightened ticklishness. Soon he cried
out loudly in ticklish agony, agony so intense that he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he had been unfastened, and the girls had gone. He lay on the table,
and slowly recovered as the teacher sat by quietly.
Finally, he spoke. She beamed with pleasure when he asked,
sort, had applied restraints to his wrists and ankles. Except for his shorts, the boy was
naked.
Then some girls entered. Paul squirmed in deep embarrassment. It was so humiliating
to be half-naked and helpless in front of these girls!
The teacher greeted them warmly, and said, “You girls have been invited here today
because you’ve all tested as having a high propensity for tickling.”
“For that reason, you’ve been enrolled in my class on how to tickle a boy. I think that
each of you has the makings of a truly sadistic tickler—like me.”
The word tickling aroused immediate enthusiasm in the girls, as if it had been on
the minds of all of them. Their eyes lit up. The word electrified Paul with a thrill of
excitement. His penis stirred.
The teacher continued, “Girls, say hello to Paul. Isn’t he adorable?” The girls eyed
Paul impishly, and began to smile mischievously as the purpose of this session became
clear to them. But Paul groaned.
“Would you like to have some fun with him?” she asked. They eagerly responded that
they would.
The teacher continued, “Well, I happen to know a delicious secret. Paul is ticklish—
very, very ticklish! Isn’t that amusing?” Paul squirmed in humiliation.
She added, with wicked amusement, “One of the pleasures of girlhood is tickling
vulnerable boys (just as one of the pleasures of womanhood is tickling vulnerable
men).” The students nodded and smiled appreciatively.
“There are three appropriate conditions. The boy should be naked (or nearly so),
helpless, and—most especially—ticklish, like Paul.” The girls tittered.
Their eyes twinkled with merriment as they surveyed the boy before them. Knowing
that he was ticklish, they took dark pleasure in having him nearly naked and helpless.
Each did, indeed, have “a high propensity for tickling.”
She drew her nails across his stomach, making him squirm and laugh heartily. “You
can see that Paul is a very ticklish young man indeed!” she laughed.
“That tells us something. Only chaste boys are so immoderately ticklish. So, Paul
must be must still be a virgin. Isn’t that so, Paul?” Paul blushed with embarrassment.
“You don’t have any idea what real tickle torture is, but you’re about to find out.”
Paul couldn’t be sure whether she was addressing him, the class, or both.
“We’ll begin with some deep tickling. Now watch, girls.”
She pressed into his stomach with her thumbs, and wriggled them to create a deep
tickling effect. He bellowed hysterically. Then she rhythmically squeezed his thighs
above his knees with gusto, making him roar with laughter.
“Now we’ll switch to lighter tickling.”
With that, she again drew her nails across his stomach, making him laugh
uncontrollably. “Kooch-kooch-kooch,” she taunted.
He laughed hysterically as she tickled his armpits. “Kitchee-kitchee-koo!”
she taunted. “Observe how exceptionally ticklish his armpits are.”
“Doesn’t he howl beautifully?” she asked. The class heartily agreed that he did.
“You should augment your tickling with verbal taunts like ‘Kitchee-kitchee-koo’
and ‘Kooch-kooch-kooch.’ That will increase Paul’s humiliation.
“I’m a great believer in humiliation as a component of male tickling,” she explained.
”And nothing humiliates a boy more than being overpowered and tickled by girls,”
she added knowingly, winking at the girls, who tittered in acknowledgment.
“The use of verbal taunts during a tickling session will make the whole experience
more maddening him.”
“It’s especially effective if you use childish taunts like ‘Hoochee-koochee-koochee.’
That’s because tickling reduces Paul (like most boys his age) to the level of a
blubbering little boy something that he finds unspeakably embarrassing—quite
maddening, in fact.
Paul blushed at her words—because they were so true! The girls were fascinated
by her insights.
Then she playfully tickled his feet. “No! Please! Not my feet!” he cried out.
She explained, “Many people particularly dislike having their feet tickled.”
“There is something elemental about tickling the feet. Many people who can tolerate
(or even enjoy) being tickled elsewhere on the body frequently find foot tickling utterly
intolerable.”
“On the other hand, some people actually like having their feet tickled. Even
prolonged tickling of their feet is often ineffective. Be on the lookout for such boys,
and adjust your technique accordingly.”
Then she began a merciless foot-tickling assault, accompanied by “Kooch-kooch-
kooch!”
He went wild, wiggling his torso as much as the bonds would allow, and wailing with
frenzied laughter.
“Oh, please stop!” he cried between howls of tortured laughter.
“Now watch this.” She started gently biting his toes, bringing forth peals of hearty
laughter from the lad.
Then she started tickling his ribs vigorously, while regaling him with “Itchee-kitchee-
kitchee!”
Throughout his ordeal, the girls were delighted by the teacher’s mastery of the art
of tickling.
Then he found himself squealing as she deftly tickled his breasts.
“Don’t overlook a boy’s breasts,” she cautioned. “They can be as ticklish as our own.”
Next, she resumed tickling Paul’s stomach. She made it twitch, as he shrieked with
laughter. He wiggled his torso as much as the bonds would allow, and screamed with
riotous laughter.
“Look at the cute worm squirm!” she teased. The girls tittered. He blushed at hearing
himself described as cute.
“Oh, this is so cruel! Please stop!” he begged. “Kitchee-kitchee-koo!” she replied.
She stopped to ask the students, “Isn’t it wonderful that mere fingernails can generate
such lovely hysterics? Did you all notice how the muscles of his tummy quivered
wherever I touched it?
The girls enthusiastically indicated that they had. “That’s the sign of an extremely
ticklish tummy.”
She resumed tickling her frenzied victim. She tickled his most sensitive spots: his
delightful armpits and breasts, his rollicking ribs and quivering stomach, and his feet.
Paul shrieked in ticklish agony as the sensations exploded in his brain.
“Ahahahaahahah! Please! Nooooooahahahahaahah! Ahha! I can't stand it!
Ahahaahahaa,” he cried.
The devastating effect of her tickling was evident in Paul's hysterical writhing. He was
suffering true tickle torture at the hands of a she-devil well versed in the art, and intent
upon tormenting and humiliating him.
The teacher laughed with delight as she tickled the daylights out of him. The students
were delighted, too.
Roars of hysterical laughter issued forth from her hapless tickle toy. Paul shook the
room with the vibrations of his howling laughter.
When she paused, he screamed, “Oh, please stop! This is agony!”
“Oh, I love it when he begs for mercy, don’t you?” she asked the students.
“Oh, yes, yes!” they answered.
“You didn’t know that tickling could be such torture, did you, Paul?” she teased.
“No, no!” he admitted.
“Now we’ll employ a couple of useful tickling tools.” She displayed two electric
toothbrushes of a type noted for its brisk vibrations. Paul gasped in dismay.
“How do you think he’ll like to be tickled with these?” The students were clearly
delighted by the idea.
“I call these charming toys my tickle sticks,” she chuckled.
She smiled mischievously, and said, “For the ultimate in tickling, nothing is more
effective than electric toothbrushes.”
She continued, “The tickle sticks are especially effective on the feet. So we’ll start
there.”
She applied the wicked implements to his feet. She tickled his soles and toes
with cruel effectiveness. He squirmed frantically, and shrieked with laughter.
Because the students took devilish glee in the foot tickling, she kept it up awhile.
She next turned her attention to the rest of his helpless body. Smiling impishly, she
glided her tools over his armpits, breasts, ribs, and stomach. This assault drove him
to new levels of hilarity.
Then she put her toys aside. “Wasn’t that fiendish?” she asked him merrily.
The students cheered with admiration.
He lay exhausted from his tickling ordeal, while she stood above him, smiling
mischievously.
But soon, she resumed her tickling, making him shriek uncontrollably. Her technique
was excruciating.
She tickled him so skillfully that she brought forth peals of hysterical laughter. “Don’t
you wish you could crawl out of your skin right now?” she taunted him. She was right.
She tickled the poor boy for many minutes, non-stop, all over his deliciously ticklish
body, until he was nearly out of his mind.
“Please, no more,” Paul said, hoarse from laughter. “Agonizing, isn’t it?” she teased.
She had reached the point where merely wiggling her fingers near his hyper-ticklish
body made him squirm and giggle–and beg, “Oh, please, no!”
She said to the students, “I consider myself an expert in the delightful art of tickling.
What do you think?”
They heartily agreed.
She finally applied the dreadful thumbs-in-the-groins tickle. “Goochee-goochee-
goochee! Isn’t that maddening?”
Paul howled with hysterical laughter, shaking his head from side to side, and writhing
in ticklish agony. “Hoochee-koochee-koochee!” she laughed.
Until now, Paul had never realized that the human body could experience such
sensations: an astonishing blend of ecstasy and agony. He had been tickled before,
but nothing in his experience had prepared him for this!
With a gleeful light in her eyes, she asked, “Isn’t it terribly embarrassing to be tickled
silly in front of these girls?”
“Yes, yes!” he moaned.
“But the worst is yet to come.”
Paul didn’t know what she meant, but he soon found out.
For then she said, “Girls, would you like to have some fun with Paul now?”
“Oh, yes!” they answered.
Then she said, “All right, then. He's all yours! Have fun. And be sure to humiliate him!”
”Oh, we will!” they replied.
“Oh, no!” he cried out. “This can’t be happening!” The students beamed with
delight. This was what they’d been waiting for.
“Always remember the three S’s of tickling: make your victim squirm, shriek,
and suffer!” The girls tittered in amusement.
They took positions around the table, surrounding him, surrounding his exposed,
helpless, invitingly ticklish body. This was what they’d been waiting for.
They began tickling Paul all over his body. This mass attack was hideously
effective. Paul broke into convulsive, howling laughter. Being tickled all over at once
was a new and mind-blowing experience for him.
As he bellowed hysterically, a girl taunted, “Kitchee-kitchee-koo!”
Look at him squirm!” another cried out in delight. “Listen to him howl!”
When they paused briefly, he screamed hysterically, “Girls, please have mercy!
I can’t stand it! I’m too ticklish for this! I’M TOO TICKLISH!”
“Do you hear that, girls?” the teacher asked. “He’s too ticklish for this. How delightful!”
The girls laughed heartily.
Throughout his ordeal, the girls wore the wickedest grins, revealing the wicked pleasure
that they were deriving from tickling him, and thereby humiliating him. There was
a touch of cruelty in their eyes.
He could tell that they all enjoyed, not only his shrieks of laughter, but also his wriggling,
writhing, and squirming in response to their unmerciful tickling.
They teased him unrelentingly. “Oh, Paul, you’re so ticklish! You’re as ticklish as
a girl.” He found that last remark particularly humiliating.
Then one of them cried out, ”Let’s tickle him to death!” He shuddered at
the idea, for he felt sure that they could do it, if they wished.
“Oh yes, let’s!” responded another. “I’ve always wanted to do that to someone.”
The teacher said, “So have I. Wouldn’t that be a lovely way to die, Paul?” Then she
added, “But I suppose we’d better not.”
Then she made them stop to let him rest awhile.
They all regarded him with sinful satisfaction, delighted by his exhaustion and
humiliation. They took sinful pleasure in seeing that they had reduced him to a
groveling blob of silly putty.
Then the teacher began what was to be her final assault. This round of tickling was far
more vigorous than anything that had gone before.
Her nimble fingers mercilessly worked over his dreadfully ticklish body—from his
armpits to his feet.
Tears filled his eyes, and he laughed louder and longer than ever before in his young
life.
The students were simply delighted, both by her virtuoso performance, and by Paul’s
maniacal shrieking.
She pressed on, showing him no mercy. Paul experienced the most maddening
tickling sensations imaginable.
Finally, and most embarrassingly, he climaxed in his shorts (copiously). The girls
cheered in delight, but Paul was dreadfully humiliated.
The climaxing served to enhance his already heightened ticklishness. Soon he cried
out loudly in ticklish agony, agony so intense that he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he had been unfastened, and the girls had gone. He lay on the table,
and slowly recovered as the teacher sat by quietly.
Finally, he spoke. She beamed with pleasure when he asked,
“When will we hold our next class?”
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