Shem the Penman
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UNAVOIDABLY DETAINED
another one of those stories
UNDER 18? DON'T READ THIS STORY. GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK INSTEAD. YOU'LL BE THE BETTER FOR IT.
Mary Dalkey glanced at the clock, saw it wasn't four yet, and sighed to herself. She always hated having to supervise detention, especially late in the afternoon when the school was virtually deserted. And Mary hated detention itself -- she was still young enough to remember how tedious it had been when -she- was a teenager, and new enough to teaching that she was still uncomfortable about punishing students. Especially on Fridays, when -she- wanted nothing more than to be out of school herself. She looked at the clock again -- there should be some kind of punishment faster than detention -- and then looked at the girls in the room with her.
The two students could not be more different. Missy was a model student, turning in straight A's and always behaving properly. She was petite and pretty, her small face framed by a tumble of golden curls, and neatly clad as always in a flower-print dress, dark hose, and flats. Her blue eyes were fixed on her paper as she wrote, pausing now and then to nibble on the end of her pencil as she thought. Mary had almost hated having to give her detention, but Missy had been acting so strangely today -- talking out of turn, insulting other students when they tried to speak up, and ignoring Mary's repeated warnings -- that the teacher had had no choice. She hoped she'd be able to speak to Missy privately and find out what was wrong.
Jerri, on the other hand ... Mary sighed internally as she looked at the other girl, two desks away from Missy. Jerri was taller than most of the boys in the class, with long legs that she habitually put up on her or other people's desks, as she was doing now. Her chair was tipped back on two legs, and though she held a book on her lap, she was obviously just drawing things in the margins rather than reading it. Jerri's short, dark brown hair looked as if she had cut it with a butcher knife. She wore heavy, scuffed motorcycle boots, skintight black jeans with a pair of handcuffs dangling from the belt loops, and a ratty black tank top that stopped just below her ribs, showing off the cheap silver navel ring she wore in defiance of the principal's ban on piercings. This was the third time Jerri had earned detention in this week alone, and she was not only failing Mary's class, she was failing every class she took, even gym (the coach didn't like her attitude). Mary had already tried to talk to Jerri. It was like talking to a window. Still, she hated to just give up, even on such a bad student ...
"Ms. Dalkey." Mary looked over to see Missy raising her hand. "Could you come here a moment, please? I'd like to show you something ... "
"Certainly." Mary rose from behind her desk, straightening her skirt as she went. Some teachers wore jeans and T-shirts to work, but Mary preferred to dress more formally: white blouse, dark skirt and hose, and heels. Her sole concession to individual style was her curling, unruly sandy hair, which she wore pulled back into a loose ponytail. Its reddish highlights, like her pale skin and bright blue eyes, showed her Irish heritage strong and clear. "What is it?"
Missy pointed at the open textbook in front of her. "This question seems unclear. What do you think it's supposed to mean?"
"Well ... " Mary began, leaning forward and putting her hands on the desktop as she peered down at the book. Later, she would be surprised to realize that Jerri had snuck up behind her soundlessly even while clad in boots that would not look out of place on Frankenstein's monster. But the only thought that went through her head as Jerri reached around her to click the handcuffs shut on her wrists was "What?" It was the last coherent thought she would have for a long while.
"What are you -- let me -- " Mary began, and then yelped as Jerri's hands grabbed her sides firmly, fingertips digging into her ribs. Taken by surprise, Mary instinctively tried to double over, but Jerri pulled her back until she was leaning against Jerri herself, the big girl's fingers torturing her ticklish ribcage all the while. Mary's astonishment quickly gave way to desperation as she fought to work loose.
"Jeheeheeheeheehee -- stop that!" Mary squealed. "Missy, help me!" Her eyes found Missy's face as she struggled in Jerri's grip, but saw there not surprise or fear but a tiny, amused smile.
Jerri whooped. "You were right, girl -- Dalkey's really got it bad!"
"Of course," Missy said. "And now it's our chance to take advantage of it."
"What's going o -- ooooooonnnnn?" Mary demanded, the last word turned into a rising squeak as Jerri squeezed her ribs again.
"You're getting tickled," Missy purred in a voice Mary had never heard her use before. "And this is just the beginning." Mary heard Jerri's low, wicked chuckle by her ear, and realized with fresh horror that she had been set up. As Missy rose from her seat, Jerri reached down and pulled the front of Mary's blouse from her skirt waistband. "All yours," she laughed.
"Thank you," Missy said sweetly, undoing buttons. "And keep tickling. We want Ms. Dalkey in a receptive mood." Jerri needed no encouragement. She had a schoolyard bully's instinct for exploiting weakness, seeking out weak spots with soft, probing fingers, every flinch rewarded with a fast, brutal tickling that went on until Mary was breathless from laughing. The rib-torture went on relentlessly while Missy pulled her blouse open. Mary tried to shield herself with her cuffed hands, but was too weak and uncoordinated from laughing to make more than a token effort. Missy's neat, pink-painted, wickedly sharp fingernails grazed the trembling skin of Mary's belly, leaving ticklish little trails as they sought out, as if by instinct, the places around her hips and waist where a tickle would be most intolerable. Caught between Jerri's hard, merciless fingers and the delicate cruelty of Missy's nails, Mary could do nothing but laugh ... and laugh ... and laugh.
Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, twisting and contorting as the torturing fingers moved across it. Her legs were rubber, and if Jerri hadn't been holding her, she would have folded to the dusty linoleum. Agonized laughter poured out of her in torrents as she hung, writhing, in Jerri's grip. The very hands that held her upright burrowed into her upper ribs, into the soft spot between ribs and underarms, sending waves of ticklish agony through her body. Meanwhile, Missy's nimble fingers flew all around her body, unpredictable and provoking a fresh burst of giggles wherever they landed.
"EEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Mary screamed, her head tossed back by the force of her demented laughter as Missy probed the undersides of her ribs. Then, before Mary could even think, Missy had grabbed her legs just above the knees and was squeezing them. Mary yelped and kicked, one shoe sailing off her foot to bounce off her Shakespeare poster, but Missy was already tickling around her navel instead.
"Oh, how terribly ticklish you are!" Missy teased, brimming over with false sympathy. "This must just be soooooo awful for you. Don't you think so, Jerri?"
"Who cares?" Jerri grinned as she held Mary's arm with one hand and worked a finger up under it with the other. The sensation of Jerri's digit wriggling in that tight, sensitive little hollow was maddening, but no more so than Missy's fingers delicately kneading her inner thighs, forcing her legs apart when she tried to close them. Mary's eyes were screwed up and running with tears of laughter, but she managed to focus on the bright square that was the window in the classroom door.
"Heeeeelllp!" she squalled. "Heeeeelllp! HehahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!"
"No one around to hear you," Missy said in the same taunting, singsong voice. "No one to help you. You're allllll alone with us -- and we're just going to tickle you to death." Her tone shifted, becoming more businesslike. "Jerri, it's time for the desk."
The tickling stopped, and again Mary would have gone down like a house of cards if Jerri had not had a firm grip on her. Sobbing for breath and limp as an overcooked noodle, Mary put up no resistance as Jerri half-dragged, half-carried her toward the front of the room. Stumbling over her feet, Mary lost her other shoe. When they reached the teacher's desk, Jerri grabbed Mary around the waist and, with barely a strain, picked her up and plunked her down firmly on top of the stack of essays she'd been reviewing. Jerri grabbed the handcuff chain between Mary's wrists and jerked Mary's hands above her head. Meanwhile, Missy had taken hold of Mary's ankles and yanked her legs straight, and before Mary could draw them up again, Missy had jumped atop them, pinning them to the desktop with her weight.
Jerri picked up a student's desk with one hand and, still holding Mary's wrists over her head, set it down with one leg thrust through the circle of her arms. Now Mary could only lower her wrists if she lifted the entire desk. Even if she had not been weak and shuddering from laughter, her lack of leverage would have made that an impossible feat. Nor could she move her legs -- Missy might be a small girl, but seated on Mary's shins, she felt as immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar. In other words, Mary thought with a chill, she was completely exposed and vulnerable to whatever these two little witches (well, one little and one big) decided to do to her ...
At least the delay had given her a chance to get some of her breath back. "Why -- why are you doing this?" she demanded. "You could be getting yourself in real trouble ... "
Jerri laughed. "Not as much as you're in, tickle-baby." Almost kindly, she brushed aside some locks of hair that had become plastered to Mary's pink, sweat-shining face. Mary's ponytail had dissolved in her earlier convulsions, and her hair spread out around her head like a corona.
"Yes, Ms. Dalkey -- you're in a very poor position to make threats," Missy chimed in from down by Mary's feet. (Oh, God, her feet! Unobtrusively, Mary tried to cross one over the other.) "As for why we're doing this -- you'll find out. Until then, sit back and enjoy the ride. We will." The girls laughed wickedly, and Jerri forced Mary to laugh along with a poke in the belly. "And if you think wiggling your feet like that will protect you from the tickling you have coming -- it will be a pleasure to disillusion you."
Jerri smirked down at the half-naked, helpless body of her teacher. "Now you're warmed up, we can start for real. Huh, Missy?" She traced a fingertip down Mary's bare arm, curling it as it slipped into the sensitive hollow of the underarm.
Mary reacted by instinct, her shoulders sliding over the desktop in the tiny, useless wiggle that was all her restraints allowed her. She babbled wildly, completely forgetting that her tormentors were mere teenagers and she an adult: "No, no, please, PLEASE! Don't tickle, don't -- heeheeheeheeheeheehee!" Jerri, grinning, was tickling both armpits now, much less gently. Every time Mary tried to say something, Jerri's swiftly circling fingertips would fill her underarms, sweeping her away into a giggling frenzy.
That would have been bad enough, but now Missy joined in. Mary's legs jerked and her feet kicked at the feel of Missy's nails raking up and down her nyloned soles. "No! NOOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Missy turned to rummage through a desk drawer, idly digging in behind a knee at the same time. A minute (or several hours, perhaps) later, Mary felt a tugging on her stockings, and then a cool sensation as Missy put the scissors aside and tore the nylon from her feet entirely. A doubled-up rubber band was swiftly looped around her toes, enabling Missy to hold Mary's feet steady with one hand while the other tickled soles, arches, insteps, heels, and just about everywhere, without mercy. Bad as having her stockinged feet tickled was, Missy's touch on her bare skin was much, much worse. And the girls gave her plenty of time to judge the experience.
"Switch over," Missy said eventually. "Hold Ms. Dalkey's feet and keep her ... amused ... while I talk to her." Jerri gladly abandoned her exploration of Mary's navel and moved to hold her ankles instead while Missy moved up to perch on the desk at Mary's side, demurely tugging her dress down.
"Now then. How are you feeling, Ms. Dalkey?" Mary, dazed, could only stare at her in weary horror. Missy smiled that tiny, heartless smile. "Ticklish?" One pink-nailed hand flashed out, fingertips beating a quick tattoo in Mary's armpit. Mary shrieked, and the desk holding her arms down scraped across the floor as she jerked wildly.
"Yes, yes, I'm ticklish! Stop it, stop it, for -- "
"Shut up," Missy said in a cold voice, and Mary's gibbering dropped dead in its tracks. Missy continued on in the light, teasing tone that made Mary shudder: "Now we're going to tell you why we're doing this. Listen closely, because if I have to repeat myself, you're going to get tickled a lot more. Understand?" Mary nodded quickly. Jerri was lazily tracing her fingers around her feet in a way that was driving her crazy, but she strove not to show it, dreading the consequences if she interrupted Missy with a squeal or a wriggle.
"Simply put, Jerri and I are bored with your class. You're teaching me nothing I don't know already, and Jerri has ... other interests. We want you to excuse us. For the rest of the year." Jerri scraped a rough fingernail down one of Mary's arches, and Mary made a choking noise, her face turning even brighter red as she kept her mouth sealed. "Is there a problem with that?" Missy asked, all delicate menace.
"Uh ... well ... ugh! ... " Jerri was scratching the vulnerable arch repeatedly now, holding Mary's foot bent back so the skin was taut. Mary couldn't keep from squirming helplessly, tears leaking from her eyes and trailing back over her temples.
"All you need to do is mark us present every day, whether we're here or not. Oh, and put us down for A-pluses on all assignments, tests, quizzes, and so on. That's easy, isn't it? Much easier than, say, getting tickled for hours and hours ... " Missy smiled down at Mary and tossed her head, golden curls bouncing.
"Perhaps you're planning to say yes now and then run to the principal. Consider this -- we know where you live, and my assistant here knows how to get through locks." Jerri nodded as Missy continued on in a voice like poisoned candy. "Imagine waking up some Saturday morning and finding yourself tied to the bed ... alone with us ... all weekend long. Think about what we could do to you ... "
As if on cue, Mary's entire body arched, her back and behind lifting clear of the desktop, as she howled. Jerri had picked up a pen -- the red ballpoint Mary used to mark papers -- and was drawing great loops on her naked soles with it, pressing firmly. The feel of the pen point scratching over her sensitive feet was almost painful -- and excrucriatingly ticklish. Missy pounced, fingers racing all over Mary's suddenly taut stomach and ribs. Mary was conscious of nothing but the tickling, barely aware even of how her own body bucked and fought futilely or the high, almost soundless laughter that gushed from her wide-stretched mouth. She wanted nothing more in the world than for the torment to STOP, and she was trying to tell the girls that, but her body only knew how to laugh and squirm, it couldn't do anything else, and they were going to go on tickling her forever because her useless body was too ticklish to resist, and Missy was grinning broadly because she knew what the light of desperation in Mary's staring eyes meant but didn't care --
And the tickling stopped sometime after that. Mary melted into a puddle of gasping, boneless flesh, sweat draining from every pore. Her blouse was a sodden mess, her throat was raw from laughter, her muscles quivered uncontrollably -- and, horrifyingly, her skin was just as sensitive as ever, if not more. It tingled as if the air itself were tickling her now. The lightest touch from the girls was agony.
"Will you do what we tell you?" Missy's hands were poised above Mary's ribcage, nails barely denting the skin. Jerri traced her pen lightly all around Mary's feet.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Mary yelled.
"We can skip your class whenever we want?"
"Yes! Please, let me up -- make her stop!"
"No," Missy said. "We get A's on all class work?"
"Yes! Yes! God, PLEASE -- "
"We can tickle you for the rest of the afternoon?"
"Ye -- NO! No, you promised!" Mary wailed, utterly humiliated as Jerri and Missy laughed at her desperation. But she felt as if she couldn't stand another second's tickling, and there was nothing at all she could do if they decided to prolong her agony an hour or even more ... The girls watched her with nasty grins as she pleaded with them, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. When she paused for breath, Missy tweaked her ribs, producing a squeak and a fresh round of begging: "Please, PLEEEEEEASE, I can't stand any more, you win, I'll do ANYTHING for you, just don't tickle me any more .... "
"I think we should let Ms. Dalkey go," Missy said after what seemed like an eternity. "After all, we have to keep our part of the bargain. Will you unlock the handcuffs?"
Jerri patted her pockets with a transparently fake look of surprise. "Wow! I guess I forgot the key! This is soooo totally stupid of me, Mary -- I'm gonna call you Mary, that okay? Tell you what, I'll mail you the key when I get home. You can send the cuffs back to me." Ostentatiously, she tucked the red pen into her jeans pocket and leaned close, running a fingertip down Mary's side and smiling as her teacher flinched. "You better send them back, or I'll come get them. Understand?"
Mary nodded feebly, and lay there like a dead woman as the students straightened up and moved away from her to where their jackets and books were. She dared not even turn her head to look at them, lest she attract their attention again. So she simply held still and listened to them gather up their possessions, hoping against hope that ...
"Tickle, tickle, tickle!" called a maliciously gleeful voice, and Mary yowled, jumped, tried to curl into a little ball ... and then realized that Missy had shouted at her from by the door, that neither of the girls was within five feet of her. Their vicious laughter was loud in her ears.
"Got her good, all right. Can we get Coach McCarron next?" Mary heard Jerri ask as the students left the room. "I owe her ... " Missy's reply was cut off as the classroom door swung shut with a click.
another one of those stories
UNDER 18? DON'T READ THIS STORY. GO DO YOUR HOMEWORK INSTEAD. YOU'LL BE THE BETTER FOR IT.
Mary Dalkey glanced at the clock, saw it wasn't four yet, and sighed to herself. She always hated having to supervise detention, especially late in the afternoon when the school was virtually deserted. And Mary hated detention itself -- she was still young enough to remember how tedious it had been when -she- was a teenager, and new enough to teaching that she was still uncomfortable about punishing students. Especially on Fridays, when -she- wanted nothing more than to be out of school herself. She looked at the clock again -- there should be some kind of punishment faster than detention -- and then looked at the girls in the room with her.
The two students could not be more different. Missy was a model student, turning in straight A's and always behaving properly. She was petite and pretty, her small face framed by a tumble of golden curls, and neatly clad as always in a flower-print dress, dark hose, and flats. Her blue eyes were fixed on her paper as she wrote, pausing now and then to nibble on the end of her pencil as she thought. Mary had almost hated having to give her detention, but Missy had been acting so strangely today -- talking out of turn, insulting other students when they tried to speak up, and ignoring Mary's repeated warnings -- that the teacher had had no choice. She hoped she'd be able to speak to Missy privately and find out what was wrong.
Jerri, on the other hand ... Mary sighed internally as she looked at the other girl, two desks away from Missy. Jerri was taller than most of the boys in the class, with long legs that she habitually put up on her or other people's desks, as she was doing now. Her chair was tipped back on two legs, and though she held a book on her lap, she was obviously just drawing things in the margins rather than reading it. Jerri's short, dark brown hair looked as if she had cut it with a butcher knife. She wore heavy, scuffed motorcycle boots, skintight black jeans with a pair of handcuffs dangling from the belt loops, and a ratty black tank top that stopped just below her ribs, showing off the cheap silver navel ring she wore in defiance of the principal's ban on piercings. This was the third time Jerri had earned detention in this week alone, and she was not only failing Mary's class, she was failing every class she took, even gym (the coach didn't like her attitude). Mary had already tried to talk to Jerri. It was like talking to a window. Still, she hated to just give up, even on such a bad student ...
"Ms. Dalkey." Mary looked over to see Missy raising her hand. "Could you come here a moment, please? I'd like to show you something ... "
"Certainly." Mary rose from behind her desk, straightening her skirt as she went. Some teachers wore jeans and T-shirts to work, but Mary preferred to dress more formally: white blouse, dark skirt and hose, and heels. Her sole concession to individual style was her curling, unruly sandy hair, which she wore pulled back into a loose ponytail. Its reddish highlights, like her pale skin and bright blue eyes, showed her Irish heritage strong and clear. "What is it?"
Missy pointed at the open textbook in front of her. "This question seems unclear. What do you think it's supposed to mean?"
"Well ... " Mary began, leaning forward and putting her hands on the desktop as she peered down at the book. Later, she would be surprised to realize that Jerri had snuck up behind her soundlessly even while clad in boots that would not look out of place on Frankenstein's monster. But the only thought that went through her head as Jerri reached around her to click the handcuffs shut on her wrists was "What?" It was the last coherent thought she would have for a long while.
"What are you -- let me -- " Mary began, and then yelped as Jerri's hands grabbed her sides firmly, fingertips digging into her ribs. Taken by surprise, Mary instinctively tried to double over, but Jerri pulled her back until she was leaning against Jerri herself, the big girl's fingers torturing her ticklish ribcage all the while. Mary's astonishment quickly gave way to desperation as she fought to work loose.
"Jeheeheeheeheehee -- stop that!" Mary squealed. "Missy, help me!" Her eyes found Missy's face as she struggled in Jerri's grip, but saw there not surprise or fear but a tiny, amused smile.
Jerri whooped. "You were right, girl -- Dalkey's really got it bad!"
"Of course," Missy said. "And now it's our chance to take advantage of it."
"What's going o -- ooooooonnnnn?" Mary demanded, the last word turned into a rising squeak as Jerri squeezed her ribs again.
"You're getting tickled," Missy purred in a voice Mary had never heard her use before. "And this is just the beginning." Mary heard Jerri's low, wicked chuckle by her ear, and realized with fresh horror that she had been set up. As Missy rose from her seat, Jerri reached down and pulled the front of Mary's blouse from her skirt waistband. "All yours," she laughed.
"Thank you," Missy said sweetly, undoing buttons. "And keep tickling. We want Ms. Dalkey in a receptive mood." Jerri needed no encouragement. She had a schoolyard bully's instinct for exploiting weakness, seeking out weak spots with soft, probing fingers, every flinch rewarded with a fast, brutal tickling that went on until Mary was breathless from laughing. The rib-torture went on relentlessly while Missy pulled her blouse open. Mary tried to shield herself with her cuffed hands, but was too weak and uncoordinated from laughing to make more than a token effort. Missy's neat, pink-painted, wickedly sharp fingernails grazed the trembling skin of Mary's belly, leaving ticklish little trails as they sought out, as if by instinct, the places around her hips and waist where a tickle would be most intolerable. Caught between Jerri's hard, merciless fingers and the delicate cruelty of Missy's nails, Mary could do nothing but laugh ... and laugh ... and laugh.
Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, twisting and contorting as the torturing fingers moved across it. Her legs were rubber, and if Jerri hadn't been holding her, she would have folded to the dusty linoleum. Agonized laughter poured out of her in torrents as she hung, writhing, in Jerri's grip. The very hands that held her upright burrowed into her upper ribs, into the soft spot between ribs and underarms, sending waves of ticklish agony through her body. Meanwhile, Missy's nimble fingers flew all around her body, unpredictable and provoking a fresh burst of giggles wherever they landed.
"EEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Mary screamed, her head tossed back by the force of her demented laughter as Missy probed the undersides of her ribs. Then, before Mary could even think, Missy had grabbed her legs just above the knees and was squeezing them. Mary yelped and kicked, one shoe sailing off her foot to bounce off her Shakespeare poster, but Missy was already tickling around her navel instead.
"Oh, how terribly ticklish you are!" Missy teased, brimming over with false sympathy. "This must just be soooooo awful for you. Don't you think so, Jerri?"
"Who cares?" Jerri grinned as she held Mary's arm with one hand and worked a finger up under it with the other. The sensation of Jerri's digit wriggling in that tight, sensitive little hollow was maddening, but no more so than Missy's fingers delicately kneading her inner thighs, forcing her legs apart when she tried to close them. Mary's eyes were screwed up and running with tears of laughter, but she managed to focus on the bright square that was the window in the classroom door.
"Heeeeelllp!" she squalled. "Heeeeelllp! HehahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!"
"No one around to hear you," Missy said in the same taunting, singsong voice. "No one to help you. You're allllll alone with us -- and we're just going to tickle you to death." Her tone shifted, becoming more businesslike. "Jerri, it's time for the desk."
The tickling stopped, and again Mary would have gone down like a house of cards if Jerri had not had a firm grip on her. Sobbing for breath and limp as an overcooked noodle, Mary put up no resistance as Jerri half-dragged, half-carried her toward the front of the room. Stumbling over her feet, Mary lost her other shoe. When they reached the teacher's desk, Jerri grabbed Mary around the waist and, with barely a strain, picked her up and plunked her down firmly on top of the stack of essays she'd been reviewing. Jerri grabbed the handcuff chain between Mary's wrists and jerked Mary's hands above her head. Meanwhile, Missy had taken hold of Mary's ankles and yanked her legs straight, and before Mary could draw them up again, Missy had jumped atop them, pinning them to the desktop with her weight.
Jerri picked up a student's desk with one hand and, still holding Mary's wrists over her head, set it down with one leg thrust through the circle of her arms. Now Mary could only lower her wrists if she lifted the entire desk. Even if she had not been weak and shuddering from laughter, her lack of leverage would have made that an impossible feat. Nor could she move her legs -- Missy might be a small girl, but seated on Mary's shins, she felt as immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar. In other words, Mary thought with a chill, she was completely exposed and vulnerable to whatever these two little witches (well, one little and one big) decided to do to her ...
At least the delay had given her a chance to get some of her breath back. "Why -- why are you doing this?" she demanded. "You could be getting yourself in real trouble ... "
Jerri laughed. "Not as much as you're in, tickle-baby." Almost kindly, she brushed aside some locks of hair that had become plastered to Mary's pink, sweat-shining face. Mary's ponytail had dissolved in her earlier convulsions, and her hair spread out around her head like a corona.
"Yes, Ms. Dalkey -- you're in a very poor position to make threats," Missy chimed in from down by Mary's feet. (Oh, God, her feet! Unobtrusively, Mary tried to cross one over the other.) "As for why we're doing this -- you'll find out. Until then, sit back and enjoy the ride. We will." The girls laughed wickedly, and Jerri forced Mary to laugh along with a poke in the belly. "And if you think wiggling your feet like that will protect you from the tickling you have coming -- it will be a pleasure to disillusion you."
Jerri smirked down at the half-naked, helpless body of her teacher. "Now you're warmed up, we can start for real. Huh, Missy?" She traced a fingertip down Mary's bare arm, curling it as it slipped into the sensitive hollow of the underarm.
Mary reacted by instinct, her shoulders sliding over the desktop in the tiny, useless wiggle that was all her restraints allowed her. She babbled wildly, completely forgetting that her tormentors were mere teenagers and she an adult: "No, no, please, PLEASE! Don't tickle, don't -- heeheeheeheeheeheehee!" Jerri, grinning, was tickling both armpits now, much less gently. Every time Mary tried to say something, Jerri's swiftly circling fingertips would fill her underarms, sweeping her away into a giggling frenzy.
That would have been bad enough, but now Missy joined in. Mary's legs jerked and her feet kicked at the feel of Missy's nails raking up and down her nyloned soles. "No! NOOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Missy turned to rummage through a desk drawer, idly digging in behind a knee at the same time. A minute (or several hours, perhaps) later, Mary felt a tugging on her stockings, and then a cool sensation as Missy put the scissors aside and tore the nylon from her feet entirely. A doubled-up rubber band was swiftly looped around her toes, enabling Missy to hold Mary's feet steady with one hand while the other tickled soles, arches, insteps, heels, and just about everywhere, without mercy. Bad as having her stockinged feet tickled was, Missy's touch on her bare skin was much, much worse. And the girls gave her plenty of time to judge the experience.
"Switch over," Missy said eventually. "Hold Ms. Dalkey's feet and keep her ... amused ... while I talk to her." Jerri gladly abandoned her exploration of Mary's navel and moved to hold her ankles instead while Missy moved up to perch on the desk at Mary's side, demurely tugging her dress down.
"Now then. How are you feeling, Ms. Dalkey?" Mary, dazed, could only stare at her in weary horror. Missy smiled that tiny, heartless smile. "Ticklish?" One pink-nailed hand flashed out, fingertips beating a quick tattoo in Mary's armpit. Mary shrieked, and the desk holding her arms down scraped across the floor as she jerked wildly.
"Yes, yes, I'm ticklish! Stop it, stop it, for -- "
"Shut up," Missy said in a cold voice, and Mary's gibbering dropped dead in its tracks. Missy continued on in the light, teasing tone that made Mary shudder: "Now we're going to tell you why we're doing this. Listen closely, because if I have to repeat myself, you're going to get tickled a lot more. Understand?" Mary nodded quickly. Jerri was lazily tracing her fingers around her feet in a way that was driving her crazy, but she strove not to show it, dreading the consequences if she interrupted Missy with a squeal or a wriggle.
"Simply put, Jerri and I are bored with your class. You're teaching me nothing I don't know already, and Jerri has ... other interests. We want you to excuse us. For the rest of the year." Jerri scraped a rough fingernail down one of Mary's arches, and Mary made a choking noise, her face turning even brighter red as she kept her mouth sealed. "Is there a problem with that?" Missy asked, all delicate menace.
"Uh ... well ... ugh! ... " Jerri was scratching the vulnerable arch repeatedly now, holding Mary's foot bent back so the skin was taut. Mary couldn't keep from squirming helplessly, tears leaking from her eyes and trailing back over her temples.
"All you need to do is mark us present every day, whether we're here or not. Oh, and put us down for A-pluses on all assignments, tests, quizzes, and so on. That's easy, isn't it? Much easier than, say, getting tickled for hours and hours ... " Missy smiled down at Mary and tossed her head, golden curls bouncing.
"Perhaps you're planning to say yes now and then run to the principal. Consider this -- we know where you live, and my assistant here knows how to get through locks." Jerri nodded as Missy continued on in a voice like poisoned candy. "Imagine waking up some Saturday morning and finding yourself tied to the bed ... alone with us ... all weekend long. Think about what we could do to you ... "
As if on cue, Mary's entire body arched, her back and behind lifting clear of the desktop, as she howled. Jerri had picked up a pen -- the red ballpoint Mary used to mark papers -- and was drawing great loops on her naked soles with it, pressing firmly. The feel of the pen point scratching over her sensitive feet was almost painful -- and excrucriatingly ticklish. Missy pounced, fingers racing all over Mary's suddenly taut stomach and ribs. Mary was conscious of nothing but the tickling, barely aware even of how her own body bucked and fought futilely or the high, almost soundless laughter that gushed from her wide-stretched mouth. She wanted nothing more in the world than for the torment to STOP, and she was trying to tell the girls that, but her body only knew how to laugh and squirm, it couldn't do anything else, and they were going to go on tickling her forever because her useless body was too ticklish to resist, and Missy was grinning broadly because she knew what the light of desperation in Mary's staring eyes meant but didn't care --
And the tickling stopped sometime after that. Mary melted into a puddle of gasping, boneless flesh, sweat draining from every pore. Her blouse was a sodden mess, her throat was raw from laughter, her muscles quivered uncontrollably -- and, horrifyingly, her skin was just as sensitive as ever, if not more. It tingled as if the air itself were tickling her now. The lightest touch from the girls was agony.
"Will you do what we tell you?" Missy's hands were poised above Mary's ribcage, nails barely denting the skin. Jerri traced her pen lightly all around Mary's feet.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Mary yelled.
"We can skip your class whenever we want?"
"Yes! Please, let me up -- make her stop!"
"No," Missy said. "We get A's on all class work?"
"Yes! Yes! God, PLEASE -- "
"We can tickle you for the rest of the afternoon?"
"Ye -- NO! No, you promised!" Mary wailed, utterly humiliated as Jerri and Missy laughed at her desperation. But she felt as if she couldn't stand another second's tickling, and there was nothing at all she could do if they decided to prolong her agony an hour or even more ... The girls watched her with nasty grins as she pleaded with them, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. When she paused for breath, Missy tweaked her ribs, producing a squeak and a fresh round of begging: "Please, PLEEEEEEASE, I can't stand any more, you win, I'll do ANYTHING for you, just don't tickle me any more .... "
"I think we should let Ms. Dalkey go," Missy said after what seemed like an eternity. "After all, we have to keep our part of the bargain. Will you unlock the handcuffs?"
Jerri patted her pockets with a transparently fake look of surprise. "Wow! I guess I forgot the key! This is soooo totally stupid of me, Mary -- I'm gonna call you Mary, that okay? Tell you what, I'll mail you the key when I get home. You can send the cuffs back to me." Ostentatiously, she tucked the red pen into her jeans pocket and leaned close, running a fingertip down Mary's side and smiling as her teacher flinched. "You better send them back, or I'll come get them. Understand?"
Mary nodded feebly, and lay there like a dead woman as the students straightened up and moved away from her to where their jackets and books were. She dared not even turn her head to look at them, lest she attract their attention again. So she simply held still and listened to them gather up their possessions, hoping against hope that ...
"Tickle, tickle, tickle!" called a maliciously gleeful voice, and Mary yowled, jumped, tried to curl into a little ball ... and then realized that Missy had shouted at her from by the door, that neither of the girls was within five feet of her. Their vicious laughter was loud in her ears.
"Got her good, all right. Can we get Coach McCarron next?" Mary heard Jerri ask as the students left the room. "I owe her ... " Missy's reply was cut off as the classroom door swung shut with a click.
