LionAndLioness
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----- Contains occasional inappropriate language ------
Although my girlfriend and I have made separate accounts, those are specifically for entering the chatroom. This account is what we are going to use for the purpose of posting stories; fictional or otherwise.
This story is extremely fictional and has no integrity or logic to it; please do not question it! Haha. Hope you enjoy!
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The School Of Titilation has existed for centuries; providing copious knowledge of the science of tickling, the sensitivity of the skin and the physical, verbal and psychological responses to tickling. These are the three primary subjects which are relayed onto attending students. The lessons are relayed in the form of a theoretical, practical or combined lesson. Theoretical lessons involve sitting at desks and studying books on the subject, along with taking notes and asking questions. As you can imagine, the theory taught involves each of the three subjects. Practical lessons teach only the sensitivity of the skin and the various responses. They involve using the modernised tickling apparatus in order to establish the effects of tickling and the skin's sensitivity in various areas. Combined lessons involve a classroom which has a singular piece of practical equipment situated at the front of the classroom. Along with this, there are multiple desks for nonparticipating students to observe the practical.
The institute is divided into three sections; the bottom, middle and top floor. Each of these floors are unique, in that they all have specific assets for the style of teaching. The bottom floor revolves around theoretical study - this means it contains a library and several classrooms with books and desks. The middle floor is for combined study. This means it solely contains classrooms which each contain desks and a singular piece of practical equipment for observational purposes. Finally, the top floor is solely for practical study, which means it purely contains practical apparatus. This is the student's favourite floor for a multitude of reasons. Endless laughter; endless fun; endless tickling; the pros outweigh the cons by miles.
Its capacity is a mere 300 students; separated into 10 classes of 30 individuals who rotate around an academic schedule. It is a highly sophisticated educational institute, and individuals who successfully enter are privileged. The purpose is to provide post-graduate education on the subject of tickling for those passionate about it. It is an early Friday morning, as the students are all excitedly walking through the gates. The front has an elegant stone path with two surrounding grass patches. The entrance to the school has two stone sculptures of feathers on either side of the revolving doors. The scheduled class of 30 students enter through the revolving doors. The entrance leads directly into the library, which looks fairly standardised with bookshelves galore. Located in the centre of the library is a spiraling staircase which leads up to the middle floor, which is where the students are required to go. This particular class is evenly divided into 15 boys and 15 girls, all aged between 18 and 22, with the majority being 18-19. They make their way upstairs and proceed to their designated classroom, where the teacher - Ms. Ambrosia - eagerly awaits, standing at the front desk. The students, without needing any prompting, immediately sit down in their assigned seats. "Welcome, class. Today, the task will be to establish the psychological endurance in relation to physical endurance. In other words, which comes first; mental or physical exhaustion, and how quickly the other follows." Ms. Ambrosia explains. The class nods in anticipation, some sweating with nerves and others with an excited grin. They shuffle in their seats and vigilantly look around at each other; wondering who the test-subject will be.
This particular subject requires an individual to step up and be restrained; whilst Ms. Ambrosia freely tickles them whilst examining the psychological and physical responses. The rest of the class is required to take notes and watch out for signs of physical and/or mental exhaustion, and come up with a conclusion. However, as with most practical-type lessons, the initial requirement is to write a hypothesis. "You know the drill, class. I want you to write the word hypothesis at the top of your pages, then jot down which exhaustion will occur first. Subsequently, I want you to estimate how quickly the second response will follow, and write down what you think the signs of each exhaustion will be." she explains thoroughly. The class nods, with a few muttering 'yes miss' as they proceed to write down a hypothesis. Whilst they do so, Ms. Ambrosia walks to the front of the class and flicks through her register and locates the current class. She calls out each individual name, getting a 'yes miss' out of everyone and ticking them in as present. As the register is completely ticked, she closes the book and stands up, curiously looking around for a (probably unwilling) participant. "Right, you're all probably close to complete a hypothesis, so I think it's time to determine who the test subject will be" she says, "Hmm... Jonny, how about you?", "S-sure miss" he stutters, nervously standing up and proceeding to the front of the class. Located at the front of the class is an upright X-shaped table, with straps where the wrists, elbows, ribs, knees and ankles would be. Hesitantly, Jonny stands in a starfish shape against the X-table, whilst Ms. Ambrosia ties him to the frame with each of the secure Velcro straps. Eventually becoming immobile, Jonny experimentally tugs against the restraints, and to his predicament, cannot move an inch. He gulps, as the class watches in fascination.
Ms. Ambrosia, dressed in a smart yet tight knee length black skirt, a white button up shirt and a black blouse, accompanied with black tights and black 3 inch high heels, walks slowly towards Jonny. "Now, class, have your notebooks ready. I will be tickling Jonny until the point of both states of exhaustion; be sure to recognise each of these types" she orders. Jonny, dressed in a white button up shirt, black chinos and flats, struggles within the restraints. Ms. Ambrosia's devilish, red-painted fingernails hover dangerously near to Jonny's sides. Delicately, they press down on the fabric of his button up shirt, wiggling slowly. A few giggles escape through his mouth, vulnerably squirming as much as he is able to. Her fingers slowly but surely apply increasingly higher pressure, causing his giggling to increase in volume. Eventually, her nails are scribbling in a spider-like motion up and down the length of his sides. Frantically, Jonny finds himself helplessly squirming, only managing to shift a few centimetres within the restraints. "Oh g-god" he mutters through the laughter. Slowly, her fingernails creep up his sides and ribs, until reaching his stretched, exposed armpits. Abruptly, her fingers scribble rapidly, pressing down on his vulnerable armpits. Being one of his worst spots, Jonny's attempts to squirm become much more aggressive and desperate. With a slight smile on her face, and an obvious indicator in her facial expression that she is trying to maintain professionalism, she lowers her fingernails back down the length of his sides. Her exploratory fingernails eventually find themselves at the lower portion of Jonny's stomach, where they begin their next assault. They frantically scribble over Jonny's pantline, making his abs aggressively tense and his stomach defensively suck in. His face becomes red from the trapped breath and ab tensing, until eventually he erupts into largely vehement laughter.
Whilst ecstatically laughing, Jonny's muscles are slowly becoming fatigued. The class begin to take notes, as his muscles slow down and lose their ability to tug as frantically. Smirking, Ms. Ambrosia's fingernails venture further downward, and lightly brush over his groin, before reaching his thighs. Her nails scribble rapidly over his thigh and knees, which again, is another bad spot. Mercilessly, her fingertips assault his thighs and knees, causing Jonny to begin to beg a little. "Please, okay! Okay!" he yells, getting zero sympathy out of Ms. Ambrosia. "Take notes, class, mental exhaustion is approaching" she teasingly says. The begs become more and more frequent, until eventually her fingernails start wedging into his flats, removing them. Another one of his worst spots is about to be targeted, which shows in his terrified expression. Her fingernails are quick to abruptly begin torturing his socked feet, wiggling and scribbling mercilessly. His feet wave left and right, whilst trying every kind of maneuver in order to escape, all proving unsuccessful. "Fuck!" he lets out "Fuck I can't take it! Please let me go! Okay! Okay seriously!" he manages to beg through the seemingly endless laughter, as her fingertips are reluctant to discontinue tickling. "And we have now reached mental exhaustion, class! We now need to establish how long before physical exhaustion occurs. You'll know this happens when he can no longer move" she taunts, continuing her relentless assault on his soles.
"In order to make physical exhaustion occur quicker, I think it's required to remove some protection" she teasingly points out, before reaching to unbutton his shirt's buttons. Promptly, her nails begin squeezing delicately into his sensitive sides, causing tears of laughter to treacle out of his eyes. "Oh my god please! Please!" he desperately begs, lactic acid building up to a tremendous degree as his muscles fatigue rapidly. His final efforts are exerted into a final thrashing tug against the restraints, before completely losing his ability to squirm. Helplessly begging through the tear-inducing laughter and torturous tickling, he finally reaches physical exhaustion. At which point, Ms. Ambrosia stops, before buttoning his shirt back up and undoing the restraints.
"That concludes our lesson here today class; remember, an exam is on this subject in precisely 2 weeks from this day, so be warned! Revise and use your notes effectively. Well done Jonny" she compliments, as Jonny lets out a blush, as he admittedly enjoyed every second.
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Ta da! I'm not particularly pleased with the outcome, mainly because I spontaneously decided to write this, and this is literally written on the spot. The idea of a school revolving around tickling came into mind, so I just decided to write an impromptu story, making everything up as I go along! Hope you like it.
Although my girlfriend and I have made separate accounts, those are specifically for entering the chatroom. This account is what we are going to use for the purpose of posting stories; fictional or otherwise.
This story is extremely fictional and has no integrity or logic to it; please do not question it! Haha. Hope you enjoy!
==============================================================================
The School Of Titilation has existed for centuries; providing copious knowledge of the science of tickling, the sensitivity of the skin and the physical, verbal and psychological responses to tickling. These are the three primary subjects which are relayed onto attending students. The lessons are relayed in the form of a theoretical, practical or combined lesson. Theoretical lessons involve sitting at desks and studying books on the subject, along with taking notes and asking questions. As you can imagine, the theory taught involves each of the three subjects. Practical lessons teach only the sensitivity of the skin and the various responses. They involve using the modernised tickling apparatus in order to establish the effects of tickling and the skin's sensitivity in various areas. Combined lessons involve a classroom which has a singular piece of practical equipment situated at the front of the classroom. Along with this, there are multiple desks for nonparticipating students to observe the practical.
The institute is divided into three sections; the bottom, middle and top floor. Each of these floors are unique, in that they all have specific assets for the style of teaching. The bottom floor revolves around theoretical study - this means it contains a library and several classrooms with books and desks. The middle floor is for combined study. This means it solely contains classrooms which each contain desks and a singular piece of practical equipment for observational purposes. Finally, the top floor is solely for practical study, which means it purely contains practical apparatus. This is the student's favourite floor for a multitude of reasons. Endless laughter; endless fun; endless tickling; the pros outweigh the cons by miles.
Its capacity is a mere 300 students; separated into 10 classes of 30 individuals who rotate around an academic schedule. It is a highly sophisticated educational institute, and individuals who successfully enter are privileged. The purpose is to provide post-graduate education on the subject of tickling for those passionate about it. It is an early Friday morning, as the students are all excitedly walking through the gates. The front has an elegant stone path with two surrounding grass patches. The entrance to the school has two stone sculptures of feathers on either side of the revolving doors. The scheduled class of 30 students enter through the revolving doors. The entrance leads directly into the library, which looks fairly standardised with bookshelves galore. Located in the centre of the library is a spiraling staircase which leads up to the middle floor, which is where the students are required to go. This particular class is evenly divided into 15 boys and 15 girls, all aged between 18 and 22, with the majority being 18-19. They make their way upstairs and proceed to their designated classroom, where the teacher - Ms. Ambrosia - eagerly awaits, standing at the front desk. The students, without needing any prompting, immediately sit down in their assigned seats. "Welcome, class. Today, the task will be to establish the psychological endurance in relation to physical endurance. In other words, which comes first; mental or physical exhaustion, and how quickly the other follows." Ms. Ambrosia explains. The class nods in anticipation, some sweating with nerves and others with an excited grin. They shuffle in their seats and vigilantly look around at each other; wondering who the test-subject will be.
This particular subject requires an individual to step up and be restrained; whilst Ms. Ambrosia freely tickles them whilst examining the psychological and physical responses. The rest of the class is required to take notes and watch out for signs of physical and/or mental exhaustion, and come up with a conclusion. However, as with most practical-type lessons, the initial requirement is to write a hypothesis. "You know the drill, class. I want you to write the word hypothesis at the top of your pages, then jot down which exhaustion will occur first. Subsequently, I want you to estimate how quickly the second response will follow, and write down what you think the signs of each exhaustion will be." she explains thoroughly. The class nods, with a few muttering 'yes miss' as they proceed to write down a hypothesis. Whilst they do so, Ms. Ambrosia walks to the front of the class and flicks through her register and locates the current class. She calls out each individual name, getting a 'yes miss' out of everyone and ticking them in as present. As the register is completely ticked, she closes the book and stands up, curiously looking around for a (probably unwilling) participant. "Right, you're all probably close to complete a hypothesis, so I think it's time to determine who the test subject will be" she says, "Hmm... Jonny, how about you?", "S-sure miss" he stutters, nervously standing up and proceeding to the front of the class. Located at the front of the class is an upright X-shaped table, with straps where the wrists, elbows, ribs, knees and ankles would be. Hesitantly, Jonny stands in a starfish shape against the X-table, whilst Ms. Ambrosia ties him to the frame with each of the secure Velcro straps. Eventually becoming immobile, Jonny experimentally tugs against the restraints, and to his predicament, cannot move an inch. He gulps, as the class watches in fascination.
Ms. Ambrosia, dressed in a smart yet tight knee length black skirt, a white button up shirt and a black blouse, accompanied with black tights and black 3 inch high heels, walks slowly towards Jonny. "Now, class, have your notebooks ready. I will be tickling Jonny until the point of both states of exhaustion; be sure to recognise each of these types" she orders. Jonny, dressed in a white button up shirt, black chinos and flats, struggles within the restraints. Ms. Ambrosia's devilish, red-painted fingernails hover dangerously near to Jonny's sides. Delicately, they press down on the fabric of his button up shirt, wiggling slowly. A few giggles escape through his mouth, vulnerably squirming as much as he is able to. Her fingers slowly but surely apply increasingly higher pressure, causing his giggling to increase in volume. Eventually, her nails are scribbling in a spider-like motion up and down the length of his sides. Frantically, Jonny finds himself helplessly squirming, only managing to shift a few centimetres within the restraints. "Oh g-god" he mutters through the laughter. Slowly, her fingernails creep up his sides and ribs, until reaching his stretched, exposed armpits. Abruptly, her fingers scribble rapidly, pressing down on his vulnerable armpits. Being one of his worst spots, Jonny's attempts to squirm become much more aggressive and desperate. With a slight smile on her face, and an obvious indicator in her facial expression that she is trying to maintain professionalism, she lowers her fingernails back down the length of his sides. Her exploratory fingernails eventually find themselves at the lower portion of Jonny's stomach, where they begin their next assault. They frantically scribble over Jonny's pantline, making his abs aggressively tense and his stomach defensively suck in. His face becomes red from the trapped breath and ab tensing, until eventually he erupts into largely vehement laughter.
Whilst ecstatically laughing, Jonny's muscles are slowly becoming fatigued. The class begin to take notes, as his muscles slow down and lose their ability to tug as frantically. Smirking, Ms. Ambrosia's fingernails venture further downward, and lightly brush over his groin, before reaching his thighs. Her nails scribble rapidly over his thigh and knees, which again, is another bad spot. Mercilessly, her fingertips assault his thighs and knees, causing Jonny to begin to beg a little. "Please, okay! Okay!" he yells, getting zero sympathy out of Ms. Ambrosia. "Take notes, class, mental exhaustion is approaching" she teasingly says. The begs become more and more frequent, until eventually her fingernails start wedging into his flats, removing them. Another one of his worst spots is about to be targeted, which shows in his terrified expression. Her fingernails are quick to abruptly begin torturing his socked feet, wiggling and scribbling mercilessly. His feet wave left and right, whilst trying every kind of maneuver in order to escape, all proving unsuccessful. "Fuck!" he lets out "Fuck I can't take it! Please let me go! Okay! Okay seriously!" he manages to beg through the seemingly endless laughter, as her fingertips are reluctant to discontinue tickling. "And we have now reached mental exhaustion, class! We now need to establish how long before physical exhaustion occurs. You'll know this happens when he can no longer move" she taunts, continuing her relentless assault on his soles.
"In order to make physical exhaustion occur quicker, I think it's required to remove some protection" she teasingly points out, before reaching to unbutton his shirt's buttons. Promptly, her nails begin squeezing delicately into his sensitive sides, causing tears of laughter to treacle out of his eyes. "Oh my god please! Please!" he desperately begs, lactic acid building up to a tremendous degree as his muscles fatigue rapidly. His final efforts are exerted into a final thrashing tug against the restraints, before completely losing his ability to squirm. Helplessly begging through the tear-inducing laughter and torturous tickling, he finally reaches physical exhaustion. At which point, Ms. Ambrosia stops, before buttoning his shirt back up and undoing the restraints.
"That concludes our lesson here today class; remember, an exam is on this subject in precisely 2 weeks from this day, so be warned! Revise and use your notes effectively. Well done Jonny" she compliments, as Jonny lets out a blush, as he admittedly enjoyed every second.
========
Ta da! I'm not particularly pleased with the outcome, mainly because I spontaneously decided to write this, and this is literally written on the spot. The idea of a school revolving around tickling came into mind, so I just decided to write an impromptu story, making everything up as I go along! Hope you like it.
