It is accomplished. . .
THE LAUGHING PROFESSOR
(Revised by T.T. Gore)
Chapter Twelve
Under New Management
***
THE LAUGHING PROFESSOR
(Revised by T.T. Gore)
Chapter Twelve
Under New Management
***
“EEEEYAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” Margaret Stanley screeched. Her bare breasts bounced as she writhed and squirmed in a desperate, futile attempt to evade the tormenting touch of Janice Adams’ sharp fingernails. “GAAAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!”
“You know, it’s true what they say,” the sexy secretary mused as she stroked her victim’s defenseless ribs. “Revenge is sweet. VERY sweet!”
The buxom brunette’s response was a prolonged shriek of laughter that ought to have raised the roof and roused the neighbors. But the basement playroom was thoroughly soundproofed and even if poor Margaret laughed until she laughed her stupid HEAD off—no one would hear! Janice licked her lips at the thought of the hours and hours of fun and laughter that lay ahead…
Now that she had the brunette at her mercy, the sexy secretary intended to make the most of her opportunity. Eventually, of course, Margaret would be permitted to achieve orgasm—but not until she was tickled pink, BRIGHT pink!
It was their regular Friday night session and this evening Janice had been invited to assume the dominant role for the first couple of hours. Usually it was the other way around, but occasionally Margaret enjoyed a change of pace—and Janice was always happy to oblige!
She’d had to give up her university job, of course. The tapes that had ruined Dagmar Frost’s career by showing her in a series of compromising positions with Janice had seen to that. But the brunette had taken good care of the sexy secretary. She was now Margaret’s personal private assistant. The pay was excellent and the fringe benefits were, well, unique…
“HIIIIEEEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Margaret shrieked. “EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!! EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!! EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
The brunette was secured in their favorite position: kneeling, arms stretched tightly above her head, naked except for skimpy red silk panties that rode low on her jerking hips. Janice, kneeling face to face with her beautiful victim, was switching between armpits and ribs, with an occasional pause to pet Margaret’s throbbing mound through the panties while teasing her rigid nipples. The brunette’s face was tense with painful pleasure…or perhaps it was pleasurable pain. Her bare skin was covered with a delicate sweat, and a pink blush was just beginning to tint her cheeks.
Soon, Janice thought with a flush of pleasure, the brunette would begin pleading for release. But the sexy secretary had her orders: No matter how much Margaret begged, she was not to be allowed to cum before the agreed-upon time, an hour hence. And until then, she would writhe and struggle in the throes of ticklish anguish.
“EEEEYAAAA-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” the brunette howled as Janice stroked her ribs with well-manicured nails. “OH IT TICK-HICK-EEEEEE-HICK-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HICK-HICKLES!!! STOP!!! OH STOP IT!!!”
“Now, now, you don’t REALLY want me to stop, do you?” The sexy secretary’s fingers scampered up to dance in Margaret’s horribly defenseless armpits. “You just LOVE it when I make you WIGGLE and SWEAT and LAUGH like this, don’t you?”
“YAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA!!!” the brunette shrieked. Her breasts bounced and jiggled as she writhed back and forth in a futile attempt to dodge Janice’s tickling fingers. Her nipples were rigid with lust and she longed for the sexy secretary to touch them. But Janice, who understood quite well what the brunette was thinking, merely smiled and kept tickling and tickling and TICKLING—!
“AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” Margaret howled “BWAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!”
Times had changed since the buxom brunette’s laughter had last been heard on the campus of Unknown University. No longer was Margarett Stanley the helpless, docile victim of lewd, sadistic ticklers. Thanks to her new position as Dean of Liberal Arts and Sciences, it was the brunette who now called the ticklish tune. Only with dear Janice did she occasionally revert to the submissive role.
Dagmar Frost’s abrupt fall from power had led swiftly to Margaret’s rehabilitation. In short order she was reappointed to her professorship and named to replace the disgraced Dagmar. There had been many times since then when the brunette had occasion to recall that old cliché about the last laugh…
“EEEEYAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” she screamed now as Janice probed her belly button with a sharp nail. A familiar, frantic sensation gripped the brunette’s breasts, belly and loins as she realized that the wonderful moment had finally arrived. A passionate growl vibrated in her throat as the sexy secretary’s hand strayed lower, slipping inside the waistband of Margaret’s panties, ripping them off, throwing them aside and returning to brush the damp curls that covered her throbbing mound of Venus.
“Ready to CUM?” the sexy secretary whispered. “Ready to cum your silly stupid BRAINS out, you big-breasted BIMBO?” She stroked Margaret’s moist crevice with a demanding finger. “Or maybe you need some more TICKLING, hmmmm?”
“Oh PLEASE, Janice!” The buxom brunette wiggled her hips. “Please, please, PLEASE!”
"But why SHOULD I?” Janice grinned. “Maybe I should just tickle you for another HOUR or so, hmmmm? Wouldn’t you LIKE that? You do SO love being tickled and tickled and TICKLED, don’t you?”
And for five excruciating minutes the sexy secretary stroked Margaret’s erect nipples, while tickling her belly, until the weeping, delirious brunette finally shivered, wiggled her hips and screamed in the throes of sheer ecstasy. . .
***
The erotic battle between Margaret and Janice was but one of several such encounters occurring that night. In various secluded locations on and off campus, the women whose lives had been touched by the saga of the laughing professor were applying the lessons they’d learned.
In Cabin 14 of the Pine View Motel, Professor Gabrielle Potzdorf was taking her long-delayed revenge on a helpless, spreadeagled Valerie Prescott. Smiling lewdly, the bare-breasted beauty dug her nails into the ribcage and armpits of her squealing, weeping tickle slave. The slender virgin thrashed and writhed madly in a futile attempt to escape Gabrielle’s dancing fingers—or perhaps to make them go lower, to creep through the damp curls that decorated her throbbing mound and tickle her love button. But that was not to be—at least not any time soon. Gabrielle fully intended to make Valerie laugh herself absolutely SILLY before permitting the slender virgin to experience the ecstasy of a ticklish orgasm!
But unknown to Gabrielle, Valerie Prescott’s attention was elsewhere. Even as she laughed and wept and wiggled, the slender virgin was pretending that her ticklish torments came at the hands of the buxom brunette whom she served and adored from a distance. It was Valerie’s fondest wish to experience the joyous agonies of a tickling session with Margaret Stanley—and someday, she promised herself, that wish would come true.
In the secret chambers of Lambda Chi, Sandy Vernon was probing the sensitive belly button and teasing the erect nipples of Esther Lawrence, the extravagantly curvy blonde bombshell who served as Administrative Aide to the Board of Regents.
Esther’s pretty face was twisted into a grimace of agonized hilarity, her panties were riding low on her hips, and her silky skin was covered with a delicate sweat. Sandy had placed her victim astride the wooden “pony” with her arms secured over her head. The long-legged vixen was face to face with Esther, relishing the delightful way in which the poor dear’s large, stiff-nippled breasts jiggled and swayed. She could tell that Esther would soon be begging hysterically to be tickled just a little bit lower.
With a sly smile, Sandy allowed her hand to slide down until her fingers were tracing the blonde bombshell’s bikini line. As she did, the long-legged vixen found herself wishing that it was she who was riding the pony, and Margaret Stanley whose teasing fingers were dancing lower and lower and LOWER—!
Jennifer Collins was getting ready to give a massage. Her client squirmed on the padded table as the petite redhead made her preparations.
“So, girl, are you sure you want the deluxe treatment?” Jennifer inquired. “If you’ve changed your mind, just say so and we’ll call it quits.”
This would have been a bit difficult for the naked, dark-haired girl strapped the table, since her mouth was stoppered with a ball gag. The girl’s name was Heather Drake, and she was a senior majoring in English lit. Heather was suffering from stress, and she’d been referred for massage therapy by Dean Margaret Stanley. In a private note to Janice, the brunette had authorized “special category handling” for the cute, curvaceous Heather.
Now, with her brain marinating in a witch’s brew of narcotics and aphrodisiacs, the stressed-out student found herself at the mercy of her masseuse! And she already had a horrible suspicion about the nature of the “deluxe treatment” to which she was about to be subjected. Tickling! This redheaded bitch was going to TICKLE her! Heather shivered with fear…and desire…
Jennifer patted her victim on the cheek, stripped down to her panties, and flexed her fingers. Where to begin? After a short debate with herself, the petite redhead decided to start with Heather’s smoothly shaven armpits. She licked her lips. It was going to be a long night, but a dedicated masseuse ought never to mind putting in some overtime. And perhaps one day soon Margaret Stanley would deign to show her gratitude for all Jennifer’s hard work. The petite redhead made a mental note to follow up on that particular idea…
Fetchingly attired in a tight, short-skirted maid’s outfit, Dagmar Frost was scrubbing the toilet in the master bathroom of Dean Stanley’s Elm Street bungalow. After her fall from power, the disgraced ex-dean had spent several months on unemployment before finding a job at the local Wal-Mart—a humiliating comedown indeed. So when Margaret Stanley called to offer her a menial household position, the thoroughly chastened Dagmar was glad to accept it. It was better than the homeless shelter—and she found herself oddly attracted to the idea of being at the dominant brunette’s beck and call.
Her direct supervisor, however, was none other than Janice Adams, whose unique disciplinary methods were actually one of the perks of the job. So Dagmar worked quickly. If she finished in time, and if the bathroom was judged spotless, the sexy secretary might possibly reward her with a performance review. Or perhaps, she told herself hopefully, she might even be disciplined by Margaret Stanley in person.
And this time, Dagmar vowed to herself, if it happened, she would throw herself at the brunette’s feet and confess her love. But as the ex-dean was bitterly aware, she had a rival for the attentions of the buxom brunette…
Dagmar’s rival was none other than ex-professor of biology Adrienne DeCarlo, who at that very moment was dusting the furniture in the living room of the house.
The raven-haired biologist looked exceptionally fetching in her skimpy maid’s uniform. After being released from the hideous embrace of the salacious vegetable by a gloating Margaret Stanley, the delirious Adrienne had been committed to a mental institution under a false name. And by the time she came to senses, Adrienne’s career was in a total shambles. She discovered that she’d been charged with a long laundry list of crimes stemming from her humiliation of Margaret Stanley and the disappearance of certain university funds.
At this point, the brunette presented her with a stark choice: maid service or jail.
Adrienne chose the maid’s uniform. The pay was poor and the hours were long, but at least she wouldn’t be sitting in a jail cell—and there was always the chance that the brunette might decide to punish her in person. For poor Adrienne was now a tickle addict. She couldn’t live without tickle torture—and tickle torture was the primary fringe benefit of her new job.
The only problem was the presence in the house of that bitch Dagmar…
And last but not least, tucked safely away in the cozy, soundproofed basement of Dean Stanley’s modest little bungalow Robbie Dixon and Darlene Perry were laughing up a perfect storm.
The captive coeds spent most of their time these days in a drugged trance. The vengeful brunette made sure that they received proper care—this was one of Dagmar’s duties, in fact—including adequate food and water. It was necessary to keep them in good condition, because once a week they were required to feed Margaret’s houseplant.
It was the same vicious veggie that had enslaved poor Adrienne, pruned back and carefully transplanted to a special area of the basement. The brunette’s experiments and calculations had determined that one feeding per week was enough to keep it healthy without stimulating additional growth. So once a week, Robbie and Darlene were caged up with the salacious plant, to be tickled to orgasm and drained of their excess bodily fluids. It took eight hours or so for the plant to feed, after which the exhausted, raving victims had to be dragged back to their cells.
The care and feeding of the brunette’s special plant fell each week to Coach Tanya Johnson, who had been made uncomfortably aware that Margaret Stanley possessed a certain very compromising videotape. The leggy blonde knew very well that if that tape ever became public, she could kiss her career goodbye. So once a week she escorted the captive coeds from their cells to the cage that held the vampire vegetable. With their brains thoroughly addled by a narcotic/aphrodisiac drug cocktail, the docile duo seldom caused trouble. When occasionally one of them did kick up a fuss, Tanya was authorized to employ light to moderate chastisement. This evening, for instance, a brisk spanking had been necessary to persuade Darlene to obey orders. They leggy blonde hated to admit it to herself, but she was coming to relish these episodes of disobedience.
But now she sat on the basement floor, well away from the cage, smoking a cigarette and watching without much interest as the captive coeds did their duty.
Both girls were naked, and they were screaming at the tops of their lungs. Darlene was hanging by her ankles with her arms bound behind her back. A pair of tendrils was stroking the soles of her feet, while another pair teased her stiff nipples. Sweat dripped from her squirming body, to be eagerly absorbed by the plant. Robbie was writhing madly in the coils of a half a dozen tendrils that encircled her bare body and pinioned her limbs. The plant was tickling her belly button, teasing her rigid nipples and probing her damp, curl-covered mound.
Any moment now, Tanya thought. And sure enough, Robbie’s screaming laughter changed abruptly to a throaty cry of passion. Her hips wiggled desperately as yet another orgasm exploded in her loins. Then she was laughing again, laughing like a crazy idiot as the vicious veggie drank deeply of her precious bodily fluids.
Tanya yawned and lit another cigarette. It was a filthy, unhealthy habit, she knew, especially for an athlete, but recently the leggy blonde had been losing interest in sports. More and more, Tanya lived for the time she was able to spend with Margaret Stanley. And one day soon, perhaps, she’d work up the nerve to confront the buxom brunette and confess her true feelings…
***
“You’ll always love me, won’t you?” asked Janice as Margaret secured her in place late that night for a bout of turnabout tickling.
“Well, of COURSE I will, darling.” The brunette patted Janice’s flushed cheek. “Just as you’ll always love me, isn’t that so?”
“Oh YES!” the sexy secretary breathed. Her adoring eyes drank in the sight of Margaret’s bare breasts. “I’ll love you FOREVER!”
“That’s a good girl,” Margaret replied with a condescending smirk. “Now, just where SHALL we begin, hmmm?”
Janice tensed in dread, delicious anticipation of the brunette’s first excruciating touch. Tonight, though, not even the familiar emotions of joy and humiliation she felt whenever Margaret was near could stifle the sexy secretary’s anxiety. She knew that she was the buxom brunette’s favorite. But Janice was tortured by the suspicion that she wasn’t the only one for Margaret Stanley. And one day soon, the sexy secretary promised herself, she’d have to DO something about that—!
The End
(Or is it?)
(Or is it?)
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