Hi all,
It's quite a long bed-time read, but I hope it satisfies! Let me know if you like it, and I'll do more!
Happy reading!
Tough Lesson
Walking through the doors into the lecture theatre, Heather sighed as she took her seat near the front centre. It was going to be one of those days again. Monday at 3pm, in the Lecture Theatre, with professor Harkel. Each and every week, a long-standing argument occurs between her and the professor over the topic of choice, with the other 200 students present content to amuse themselves bearing witness to the banter. The professor swaggered in, and leapt to the stage. He was a fairly young man, although he was older than he looked, he was qualified in human behaviour and psychology for the last two years. Heather rested her bag by her feet, and thumped her books on the little wooden armrest attached to her seat, the noise just enough to attract the professor's glance. He winked at her, causing her blood to rush. Heather didn't hate him, but he could rile her by doing nothing, as she has always held his knowledge against him for his age. She was determined to highlight a mental weakness in his ability, for all to see.
Heather shuffled in her seat, and crossed her left leg over right, trying to balance her mental comfort with her physical. As she drew her left arm across her face to wipe back a few stray hairs, she caught his eye. No, not the professor's, but Luke's. Luke was a first year, she had always had her eye on him, but her tough exterior never let it show. This time, however, her glance turned to stare, unnoticeable to Luke and the 200 strong crowd - but noticed by professor Harkel, the one man she would rather didn't know.
"Okay guys, a good weekend I presume, as all those at the back are semi-conscious, and all those at the front are wearing dark glasses,” barked the professor in a mildly humorous tone. "All except Heather, I see, who's looking as perky as ever" to a slight murmour of laughter. "You never know, we may actually learn something this week If I don't get snipered half way through the lecture".
Heather's sarcastic smirk and grimace brought a stronger reaction from the room. The other students liked her, until she steps into the lecture theatre, then she's on her own.
"So, this week's investigation into the human mind and body will begin with an open debate... Receiving Pleasure." To this announcement, the boys looked at the girls with a 'wish I did you last summer' glance, the girls blushed into their hands and slouched down into their seats. Heather moved her eyes to her extreme right to spot Luke for a brief second, only to see him looking down at his fingernails. The professor looked only at Heather for a split second before re-addressing the room.
"This lesson, I will prove something to you, without any trace of evidence to sway in the opposite direction." he said. Heather, now perched ready to pounce with a counter-argument, waited for a flaw in his theory.
"Receiving Pleasure. I can do something to any of you and you will love it." He said, absolutely sure of himself. "Does anyone care to challenge me?" he glanced purposefully away from Heather's direction.
Heather stood up, disbelieving how easily she could prove him so very, very wrong.
"I will state that categorically, you could not make me feel any pleasure whatsoever." She had fallen right into his trap.
"What's this, Heather? You aren't normally one to oppose my theories." he said coyly. Well, why don't you come up onto the stage?
Heather walked up, slightly nagged by his assumed confidence.
"Okay, lay here." Said the professor, to catcalls and whistles from the rest of the lecture theatre. "Steady-on, this is not going to turn into some show of pornographic interest" he stated.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"As comfortable as I can be in your company" she replied, to an uproar of laughter.
"Now don't panic, I’m just going to get you into the necessary position" he assured her, as her tied her ankles to two fastenings on the table that she was sitting on.
"This is just so that everyone else can see what I am doing" tying her wrists together above her head.
"Now, you are secured, and I am the only one here that can have any affect on your sensations of perceived pleasure, correct?" he asked, already knowing her reply.
"Yes." her confidence in her battle plan was obvious for everyone to see.
"Open your palm for me" he asked. She did, and he gently moved his index finger up and down, before drawing circles. She clenched her fist.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"If you won't let me perform this experiment on your hands, then I shall have to try elsewhere,” he stated firmly to her, moving down towards her feet.
"I don’t understand why you're doing this... tickling!" she asking him broadly.
"I am giving you a form of pleasure". He unlaced her trainers, and slowly pulled off her pure white socks. Her feet suddenly felt extremely vulnerable.
"But tickling's not pleasure" she said, hoping to dissuade him.
"Then why does it get this response?" He mimicked the same movements the he did on her palms, straight lines and small circles, slowly across her soft pink soles.
She wriggled, and flexes her feet, trying to put a mental block on the racing emotions to her brain. She successfully held in any laughter.
"She's not receiving pleasure, you can see her moving her feet away, trying to escape it!" someone yelled from the audience.
Heather, holding out well, said: "My body's telling you that I do not want to be tickled. I am not enjoying it, and there's nothing to suggest to you that I want this.”
Once again, the professor smirked. Stopped his gentle foot tickling, and addressed his captive audience, letting his subject a recover.
"Okay, so, Heather has not received pleasure in this instance. I have applied some stimuli amounting to no more than an itch to both of her feet. How many of you get pleasure from an itch? Not many of you, I would have thought." the professor stated, almost reading from a textbook.
Heather, trying to scratch the feelings from her feet with her toes, grins, thinking she's winning her argument.
"Now watch." the professor turns. He takes a stool, and perches himself at the foot of the table, and spider tickles up and down both of Heather's feet, gently, but alternating with scope and pace.
Heather, almost paralysed with shock, fights to hold in the laughter, but her body is not as strong as her mind and jerks uncontrollably from the sensations. "I'm still not showing any signs of pleasure."
"You’re smiling,” said professor Harkel. As she opened her mouth to respond, she lets out her first giggles, as the professor touches the delicate skin underneath her toes.
"And now you're starting to laugh" he says calmly. Desperately trying to gain a foothold in her battle, Heather tries to scrunch her toes, only to realise that they're being held back and remain fully exposed.
Continuing his assault, the professor turns to his audience, "Do you not smile when you're happy? Do you not laugh? Come on, somebody, is Heather receiving pleasure?"
The room, captivated by Heather's dancing feet and playful giggles of laughter are beginning to wonder.
"She is laughing but I'm not sure if she's enjoying it,” argues a fellow student.
"Are you enjoying this Heather?" professor Harkel asks. "Nooooo, ha ahhhhhhh, uh" she manages an answer.
"I'm not sure that I believe her. Don't you react in the same way when you're watching a comedian? When you share jokes with your friends?" he asks. Heather can't answer.
"That is true,” says someone from the room.
"I need an assistant, YOU, come up here" he picks a girl, knowing that she is shy and reclusive, out of the third row. "I need you to continue exactly what I'm doing here, okay." he instructs her. She does.
Professor Harkel stands up and walks to the top of the table, and wipes away some hairs from Heather's face. She looks up at him, and he winks, aggravatingly at her. He is beginning to enjoy this!
"Pleeease stop, I ahh ahh hahahha, I'm not enjoying this, pleeeeeasasee" her legs are twisting, her feet can't escape their bounds, or the merciless tickling of the shy girl's dainty fingernails.
"Let's continue" the professor regains his composure. He lifts up Heather's top from her midriff, and lowers her jeans further down below her panty line. This is starting to appeal more and more to the guys in the audience! Heather bucks her body, knowing full well what's coming. The professor has no trouble finding another two volunteers to help him detain her and hold her body still.
Taking a single finger, he draws a single line from one hipbone to the other, right across her naked belly. Her stomach muscles tense and suck in uncontrollably. Heather lets out a yelp, and shakes her head wildly from side to side. The professor continues, from side to side, before allowing another assistant to take over.
Sticking with the midriff area, he removes a blunt pencil from his pocket, and begins writing words all across her helpless belly. "If you can guess the words, I’ll let you go!" he tells her, to a ripple of laughter and applause.
Leaving Heather's body to writhe around on the table, and his assistants to continue to 'pleasure her’ he speaks once again to those still seated.
"Is anyone here still in doubt that Heather is receiving pleasure?" None of the guys could speak, let alone contest his argument, but one or two girls raised their hands.
"Okay girls, come up here, let me look at you,” he said to them. They arrived up on the stage. He pulled a strange feathery object from the first girl's hair and handed it to her.
"Take this, and one by one, run it in between Heather's toes." She obeyed, and drew further reaction from Heather. Her legs had lost almost all ability to move, so her feet were now unprotected, and the girl could go in and out of her toes one by one, causing quivers and shakes by automation.
"How about you?" the professor asks the second girl. "I have this", she said - and took a comb out of her bag. "Perfect" he answered. She switched with the girl who had been tickling poor Heather's feet from the beginning, and slowly dragged her comb up and down Heather's moist soles without contest. Heather was now laughing silently, the only parts of her body moving were the parts that she could not control. Her mind was still active, however, and seriously doubted whether she WAS actually enjoying this!
The professor was now ready to play his last card. Looking into the audience, he spots his ace. "I need a last volunteer... how about you, what's your name?" he asks a lone figure in a seat to the right.
"Luke, sir" he says, already out of his seat!
"Come here Luke. Take this." as he hands him a long stiff pink feather.
The professor orders the others to stop, and they reluctantly return to their seats.
"You have a free license,” he says to Luke, who timidly steps forward to Heather's ravaged body.
Heather, breathing deeply, has regained some strength. She opens her eyes and spots him coming towards her. As the feather touched down and danced its way across her belly, she suddenly felt pleasure, as it intertwined with laughter as it aroused every inch of her body and mind.
Knowing he'd won his argument, he asked Heather "Shall I ask him to stop?" She said nothing, but shook her head decisively.
Professor Harkel turned to his audience, most of them very aroused, leaving Luke to have his way with Heather, and the murmour or soft giggles.
"At the beginning of this lecture I said that I could give anyone of you pleasure... have I done it?"
Luke's dancing pink feather continued causing ticklishness havoc and pleasure and professor Harkel stepped down from the stage, to a rapturous applause.
The End
It's quite a long bed-time read, but I hope it satisfies! Let me know if you like it, and I'll do more!
Happy reading!
Tough Lesson
Walking through the doors into the lecture theatre, Heather sighed as she took her seat near the front centre. It was going to be one of those days again. Monday at 3pm, in the Lecture Theatre, with professor Harkel. Each and every week, a long-standing argument occurs between her and the professor over the topic of choice, with the other 200 students present content to amuse themselves bearing witness to the banter. The professor swaggered in, and leapt to the stage. He was a fairly young man, although he was older than he looked, he was qualified in human behaviour and psychology for the last two years. Heather rested her bag by her feet, and thumped her books on the little wooden armrest attached to her seat, the noise just enough to attract the professor's glance. He winked at her, causing her blood to rush. Heather didn't hate him, but he could rile her by doing nothing, as she has always held his knowledge against him for his age. She was determined to highlight a mental weakness in his ability, for all to see.
Heather shuffled in her seat, and crossed her left leg over right, trying to balance her mental comfort with her physical. As she drew her left arm across her face to wipe back a few stray hairs, she caught his eye. No, not the professor's, but Luke's. Luke was a first year, she had always had her eye on him, but her tough exterior never let it show. This time, however, her glance turned to stare, unnoticeable to Luke and the 200 strong crowd - but noticed by professor Harkel, the one man she would rather didn't know.
"Okay guys, a good weekend I presume, as all those at the back are semi-conscious, and all those at the front are wearing dark glasses,” barked the professor in a mildly humorous tone. "All except Heather, I see, who's looking as perky as ever" to a slight murmour of laughter. "You never know, we may actually learn something this week If I don't get snipered half way through the lecture".
Heather's sarcastic smirk and grimace brought a stronger reaction from the room. The other students liked her, until she steps into the lecture theatre, then she's on her own.
"So, this week's investigation into the human mind and body will begin with an open debate... Receiving Pleasure." To this announcement, the boys looked at the girls with a 'wish I did you last summer' glance, the girls blushed into their hands and slouched down into their seats. Heather moved her eyes to her extreme right to spot Luke for a brief second, only to see him looking down at his fingernails. The professor looked only at Heather for a split second before re-addressing the room.
"This lesson, I will prove something to you, without any trace of evidence to sway in the opposite direction." he said. Heather, now perched ready to pounce with a counter-argument, waited for a flaw in his theory.
"Receiving Pleasure. I can do something to any of you and you will love it." He said, absolutely sure of himself. "Does anyone care to challenge me?" he glanced purposefully away from Heather's direction.
Heather stood up, disbelieving how easily she could prove him so very, very wrong.
"I will state that categorically, you could not make me feel any pleasure whatsoever." She had fallen right into his trap.
"What's this, Heather? You aren't normally one to oppose my theories." he said coyly. Well, why don't you come up onto the stage?
Heather walked up, slightly nagged by his assumed confidence.
"Okay, lay here." Said the professor, to catcalls and whistles from the rest of the lecture theatre. "Steady-on, this is not going to turn into some show of pornographic interest" he stated.
"Comfortable?" he asked.
"As comfortable as I can be in your company" she replied, to an uproar of laughter.
"Now don't panic, I’m just going to get you into the necessary position" he assured her, as her tied her ankles to two fastenings on the table that she was sitting on.
"This is just so that everyone else can see what I am doing" tying her wrists together above her head.
"Now, you are secured, and I am the only one here that can have any affect on your sensations of perceived pleasure, correct?" he asked, already knowing her reply.
"Yes." her confidence in her battle plan was obvious for everyone to see.
"Open your palm for me" he asked. She did, and he gently moved his index finger up and down, before drawing circles. She clenched her fist.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"If you won't let me perform this experiment on your hands, then I shall have to try elsewhere,” he stated firmly to her, moving down towards her feet.
"I don’t understand why you're doing this... tickling!" she asking him broadly.
"I am giving you a form of pleasure". He unlaced her trainers, and slowly pulled off her pure white socks. Her feet suddenly felt extremely vulnerable.
"But tickling's not pleasure" she said, hoping to dissuade him.
"Then why does it get this response?" He mimicked the same movements the he did on her palms, straight lines and small circles, slowly across her soft pink soles.
She wriggled, and flexes her feet, trying to put a mental block on the racing emotions to her brain. She successfully held in any laughter.
"She's not receiving pleasure, you can see her moving her feet away, trying to escape it!" someone yelled from the audience.
Heather, holding out well, said: "My body's telling you that I do not want to be tickled. I am not enjoying it, and there's nothing to suggest to you that I want this.”
Once again, the professor smirked. Stopped his gentle foot tickling, and addressed his captive audience, letting his subject a recover.
"Okay, so, Heather has not received pleasure in this instance. I have applied some stimuli amounting to no more than an itch to both of her feet. How many of you get pleasure from an itch? Not many of you, I would have thought." the professor stated, almost reading from a textbook.
Heather, trying to scratch the feelings from her feet with her toes, grins, thinking she's winning her argument.
"Now watch." the professor turns. He takes a stool, and perches himself at the foot of the table, and spider tickles up and down both of Heather's feet, gently, but alternating with scope and pace.
Heather, almost paralysed with shock, fights to hold in the laughter, but her body is not as strong as her mind and jerks uncontrollably from the sensations. "I'm still not showing any signs of pleasure."
"You’re smiling,” said professor Harkel. As she opened her mouth to respond, she lets out her first giggles, as the professor touches the delicate skin underneath her toes.
"And now you're starting to laugh" he says calmly. Desperately trying to gain a foothold in her battle, Heather tries to scrunch her toes, only to realise that they're being held back and remain fully exposed.
Continuing his assault, the professor turns to his audience, "Do you not smile when you're happy? Do you not laugh? Come on, somebody, is Heather receiving pleasure?"
The room, captivated by Heather's dancing feet and playful giggles of laughter are beginning to wonder.
"She is laughing but I'm not sure if she's enjoying it,” argues a fellow student.
"Are you enjoying this Heather?" professor Harkel asks. "Nooooo, ha ahhhhhhh, uh" she manages an answer.
"I'm not sure that I believe her. Don't you react in the same way when you're watching a comedian? When you share jokes with your friends?" he asks. Heather can't answer.
"That is true,” says someone from the room.
"I need an assistant, YOU, come up here" he picks a girl, knowing that she is shy and reclusive, out of the third row. "I need you to continue exactly what I'm doing here, okay." he instructs her. She does.
Professor Harkel stands up and walks to the top of the table, and wipes away some hairs from Heather's face. She looks up at him, and he winks, aggravatingly at her. He is beginning to enjoy this!
"Pleeease stop, I ahh ahh hahahha, I'm not enjoying this, pleeeeeasasee" her legs are twisting, her feet can't escape their bounds, or the merciless tickling of the shy girl's dainty fingernails.
"Let's continue" the professor regains his composure. He lifts up Heather's top from her midriff, and lowers her jeans further down below her panty line. This is starting to appeal more and more to the guys in the audience! Heather bucks her body, knowing full well what's coming. The professor has no trouble finding another two volunteers to help him detain her and hold her body still.
Taking a single finger, he draws a single line from one hipbone to the other, right across her naked belly. Her stomach muscles tense and suck in uncontrollably. Heather lets out a yelp, and shakes her head wildly from side to side. The professor continues, from side to side, before allowing another assistant to take over.
Sticking with the midriff area, he removes a blunt pencil from his pocket, and begins writing words all across her helpless belly. "If you can guess the words, I’ll let you go!" he tells her, to a ripple of laughter and applause.
Leaving Heather's body to writhe around on the table, and his assistants to continue to 'pleasure her’ he speaks once again to those still seated.
"Is anyone here still in doubt that Heather is receiving pleasure?" None of the guys could speak, let alone contest his argument, but one or two girls raised their hands.
"Okay girls, come up here, let me look at you,” he said to them. They arrived up on the stage. He pulled a strange feathery object from the first girl's hair and handed it to her.
"Take this, and one by one, run it in between Heather's toes." She obeyed, and drew further reaction from Heather. Her legs had lost almost all ability to move, so her feet were now unprotected, and the girl could go in and out of her toes one by one, causing quivers and shakes by automation.
"How about you?" the professor asks the second girl. "I have this", she said - and took a comb out of her bag. "Perfect" he answered. She switched with the girl who had been tickling poor Heather's feet from the beginning, and slowly dragged her comb up and down Heather's moist soles without contest. Heather was now laughing silently, the only parts of her body moving were the parts that she could not control. Her mind was still active, however, and seriously doubted whether she WAS actually enjoying this!
The professor was now ready to play his last card. Looking into the audience, he spots his ace. "I need a last volunteer... how about you, what's your name?" he asks a lone figure in a seat to the right.
"Luke, sir" he says, already out of his seat!
"Come here Luke. Take this." as he hands him a long stiff pink feather.
The professor orders the others to stop, and they reluctantly return to their seats.
"You have a free license,” he says to Luke, who timidly steps forward to Heather's ravaged body.
Heather, breathing deeply, has regained some strength. She opens her eyes and spots him coming towards her. As the feather touched down and danced its way across her belly, she suddenly felt pleasure, as it intertwined with laughter as it aroused every inch of her body and mind.
Knowing he'd won his argument, he asked Heather "Shall I ask him to stop?" She said nothing, but shook her head decisively.
Professor Harkel turned to his audience, most of them very aroused, leaving Luke to have his way with Heather, and the murmour or soft giggles.
"At the beginning of this lecture I said that I could give anyone of you pleasure... have I done it?"
Luke's dancing pink feather continued causing ticklishness havoc and pleasure and professor Harkel stepped down from the stage, to a rapturous applause.
The End
