View Full Version : "What You Can't See" - Chap.4

12-15-2001, 04:31 PM
Greetings, everyone! A thousand apologies for the delay, but life has swamped me with all manner of work recently. However, as a labor of love I sat down to write the next part of my ongoing story, which I hope people enjoy!


"What You Can't See" (Chapter 4)

When Miss Gingers awoke in a heap of scattered papers in her office, it took her a moment to take stock of her surroundings and remember where she was and how she got there. In a moment, the torturous events of the day came back to her in a wave of remembrance, and she was immediately seized with the grip of panic as she realized she had no idea what the time was. How long had she been here? She wondered as she frantically searched for a clock. On her desk, a small timepiece proclaimed the time as 5:00 p.m. Her heart sank: she had been here all day, and school was long over by now. But thankfully, the class she had run out on had been her last for the day. Save for a few girls who were probably happy to have the last few minutes of the period to themselves, no one else knew she was gone.

Miss Gingers groped around for her glasses, which she finally found and put on. Things came into focus slightly more, and she was appalled to see the state she had left her office in. These black glasses did not fit as well as the red frames she had lost, but they were still sufficient to see the papers and books thrown about on the floor. She was about to tidy up, when she realized that she was wearing nothing but her underwear.

Miss Gingers got to her feet slowly, and with embarrassment reached around to gather her articles of clothing, cast off several hours ago. She also came to the realization that her panties were in no condition to be worn home, having borne the brunt of her unsealed frustration. Carefully, she stepped out of them and put them aside, replacing the rest of her clothing until she looked halfway presentable. As she took out a hand mirror and tried to fix her hair as best she could, her mind dwelt again on the events which had brought her here. She had agreed to do everything the girls had asked, why had they done this to her? As frightening as the thought was, the only conclusion she could some to was that they enjoyed it. They must enjoy tickling her sensitive body, somehow reaching underneath her clothing and abusing her most ticklish spots, slowly driving her insane…she involuntarily reached down and held her hands where it had been the worst; she could still almost feel the feathers caressing her skin. And after everything she had promised to Katie…

Her mind suddenly started as she said that name to herself. Katie! She had failed to meet her after class as she had promised to! Of course, Katie had to know the reason why, this could hardly come as a surprise to her. She had to know that Miss Gingers had no choice in the matter. Didn’t she?

Miss Gingers bundled up the test papers in her arms as she tried to clean up her office as best she could. As she tried to hide the evidence, she quickly put everything in its place and locked her office door behind her, walking to the parking lot. As she entered her car and began the drive home, she barely thought of what she was doing. At least she had Katie’s paper with her, she consoled herself as she drove up to her apartment and unlocked the door. She would barely read it before giving her an A, she decided. If this was what she earned through no resistance, she shuddered to think what a fight might earn her.

Inside her apartment, Miss Gingers’ eyes wearily perused the papers one after another, giving each one a cursory reading. But her mind was elsewhere. Specifically, on the events of the day. She cringed to remember how helpless she had been, how the tickling had broken her will. It all seemed to terrible to imagine, especially the prospect that tomorrow might be the same, and the next day, and the next…

Halfway through the stack, she came to Katie’s paper, which she quickly read while preparing to mark it perfect. But Miss Gingers could not help but notice something strange: namely, there had been effort put into this. Not much, mind you, and not nearly enough for high marks, but still it appeared that Katie had thought moderately before writing this. Why would she have even bothered if she knew she could rely on blackmail? Perhaps she expected her teacher to fight? But no, just the thought of having to…

She shut her eyes and swallowed hard, her pen slipping out from between her fingers as she did. She needed sleep right now, more than anything else. Work could wait, she told herself as she changed out of her clothes, donning a thin light blue silk nightshirt over her bra and panties. Wearily, she moved the papers to one side and climbed into bed. Don’t think about anything, she told herself, simply empty your mind of thoughts…

At first, she slept dreamlessly. But without the vigilance of her conscious mind to stay relaxed, images of tickling surreptitiously began to work their way into her dreams. She saw images of inescapable feathers chasing after her, disconnected scenes where her assailants slid underneath her clothing and tickled her to madness. She tossed and turned on her pillow, giggling in her sleep. An onlooker might have thought she was having a pleasant dream, with the smile she wore on her face. Little would they have known what was truly happening inside her mind. As the dreams became more violent, the tickling became more real. Audible laughs began to emerge from her mouth as she slept, and her muscles twitched as though in reaction to being touched. Finally, it became too much, and the mists of sleep left her head as she darted awake.

Her eyes opened abruptly, as though she had been awakened forcefully. At first she hoped she was still dreaming, that what she was feeling now was not real. But there seemed no way to wake up now, no way to escape what was now unmistakably the soft, tickling touch she knew so well, teasingly brushing across her chest.

It was back, here to haunt her sleep, to provide her with unimaginable ticklish nightmares. Not even in her own bed was she safe. She could feel it more keenly now, the sliding across her ribs which provoked the forced, tight-lipped smile, try as she might to suppress it. But it was different, stronger, forcing her to giggle in only a matter of seconds. It was not invisible feathers which tickled her now, but fingernails: sharp, tapered, cruel fingernails which slid across her ribs, underneath her nightgown. They slithered across the ticklish surface of her chest, tickling around her breasts, with more unseen fingers dipping into her underarms, making her eyes water. Miss Gingers could not take it, and darted upright in her bed.

Or she thought she did. She was surprised and disoriented to see she had not moved. She tried to sit up again, and to her horror found she was unable to do so! It were as though she had lost control of her body, or as though the invisible fingers brought with them unseen bonds, strong as steel, to tie her down to the bed! Desperately she tried to raise her arms, only for the sake of seeing them move. But they remained still as stone, weighted to her sides with not even a finger able to lift off the mattress! She began to breathe faster, and tossed her head from side to side, which mercifully she could still move. Neither legs nor arms would answer her, and she remained motionless on her bed as the fingers began to tickle her.

Suddenly, he felt a squeeze on her sides which caused her to laugh aloud. It was quickly joined by others, as multiple hands began to grasp her sides and mould them beneath their fingertips, from her breasts down to her waist. Miss Gingers began to giggle wildly, and tried to arch her back, but could not. “Aaaahehehehehe!! Oh no! Please! Stop! I can’t move!! Hehehehehe!! Oh god, somebody help me!!” Her eyes widened as she realized the helplessness of her position: alone, in darkness where nobody could hear her cries, unable to move an inch, her tickler was without limits. In a moment, yet another pair of ethereal hands joined its brothers, manifesting themselves right in her underarms. Her arms were lowered and at her side, but for these invisible hands, it was no different than if her hands had been tied above her head.

“Aaahahahahahaha!! No! Please!!” Miss Gingers’ shrill laugh echoed throughout her empty bedroom as in her mind she kicked frantically. But the bedsheets held an unbreakable vise over her body as underneath the invisible hands squeezed and kneaded her ribs with a strength that was frightening. Underneath her arms, the hands there traced tiny circles on her tender skin, spiraling outwards and then in again in a maddening cycle. The sheer helplessness of her situation made Miss Gingers shriek even louder as tears flowed freely down her cheeks, her only method of release. It was so unfair, lying here in her own bed, tickled beyond her limits and unable to do anything about it! And every second it seemed a new pair of hands joined the others. It was only a few minutes before the unthinkable occurred.

“Oh no! Not my feet!!” shrieked Miss Gingers as she felt two, ghostly hands materialize at the foot of the bed. They held her toes between their fingertips, pinching them gently and wriggling between her toes, causing her to scream in terror. “Oh no! Not THEHEHEHEHERE!!” The hands spent no time at gentle teasing, as they mercilessly moved down to scrape the length of her bare feet. Not even her toes could move an inch as the nails slid down on their interminable journey, aided by the legions of hands which continued to tickle her sides and squeeze her breasts relentlessly.

Trapped inside the prison of her own body, Miss Gingers was quickly losing her perception of reality. She began to see visions of giggling schoolgirls atop her bed, each one with their hands buried inside their teacher’s reclining body, gleefully tickling every crevice of her body they could seek out. There were hands over every inch of her body, but worst by far were the one pair who kept her feet all to themselves. They slid up and down her arches, making swirling patterns over the ticklish balls of her feet, and torturing every toe individually, while they remained completely still to receive their punishment.

Miss Gingers was laughing so hard that the world was spinning around her. As the hands on her feet found particularly ticklish niches just above her heels, she did not even notice when she lost control and wet her bed in the midst of hysteria. The hands did not stop for a moment, squeezing, prodding, invading her body and robbing her of her sanity. More than anything else, she needed to move, to escape, to end this nightmare…

Desperately welling up in the depths of her mind, a loud voice began surfacing. It screamed to get away, to summon the strength to break away from her captor. Miss Gingers did not even think about it, she acted by instinct alone. Before she knew what she was doing, she opened her mouth with one, piercing scream and suddenly, every muscle in her body worked in unison and wrenched her from the bed!

Tangled in the sweat-laden bedsheets, her body threw itself from the mattress, landing on the floor with a loud thump and bringing down a collection of papers and books. Still writhing, she thrashed about in the mass of bedsheets, bringing a glass on the nightstand to the ground which shattered loudly. Then, suddenly, she stopped, and took stock of her surroundings. The hands were gone. Her body was moving again. Somehow, she had gotten out of the bed.

Miss Gingers lay there on the floor for several seconds, neither moving nor saying anything. Her mind tried to sort out what had happened. Was it her who had broken away? Or did they suddenly stop?

After nearly a minute, Miss Gingers got up off the ground. Not bothering to remake her bed, she walked into the kitchen, not saying anything, her head hung and her steps slow and hesitating. With a shaking hand she reached into her cupboard and retrieved her coffee. Spilling some on the counter as a result of her shaking hands, she still managed to pour coffee into the coffee maker. As the machine began to gurgle softly, she went to find her mug, and sat down silently at the kitchen table as the machine began its preparations. Tonight would be longer than she had anticipated.

12-16-2001, 12:21 AM
Great story, Kunzite! Really excellent! I've
enjoyed all the chapters of your tale thus far,
and chapter 4 didn't disappoint. Now to criticize
any of the other talented story artists on this
site, or their stories which entertain and excite,
but I also enjoy a good story, for its own sake,
not just for the fact that it includes tickling.

It was nice to read a well thought-out story, one
with a plotline, with a story deeper than the
tickling itself, which was quite good in and of
itself. The idea of using unseen fingers, of
a mysterious power reeking, excuse my pun,
Disembodied Vengeance, upon Miss Gingers, was very
creative. High marks for originality. I find the
whole mystique about this strange power, who is
causing it, how it works, and now, suddenly, how
Miss Gingers may have stumbled upon a way to
resist it, fascinating.

I know its close to the holidays, and free time to
write and be creative will probably lessen for us
all, but still, I look forward to seeing your
next installment of this story, as soon as its
completed. Keep up the good work, Kunzite!


12-16-2001, 06:20 PM
:yowzer: U've got me hooked! I cannot w8 'til the next 1! :wow:

Slappy McGee
12-16-2001, 08:56 PM
I agree wholeheartedly with J-dark. These are really well written stories that include intrigue as well as erotic descriptions of tickling. I find myself eagerly awaiting your next installments. Keep up the good work.

12-18-2001, 11:01 AM
Great four stories which were well written and fostered a desire to wait for the next installment - surely an indication of a good piece of prose. This factor mixed with an interesting theme proved highly sucessful.

Perhaps the story may continue...

12-19-2001, 04:09 PM
This is a FANTASTIC series. I'm loving the fact that after 4 chapters, still so much remains unknown. Who and why is this happening? Where is Kunzite going to take us next? How will Miss Gingers solve her problem? More immediately, how will she survive the night?

I must say, I feel bad for poor Miss Gingers. I've seen no evidence that she's deserved cruelty of this magnitude. However, what must be must be, so let the tickling of Miss Gingers continue!


love feet
07-23-2009, 02:43 PM
very good

07-24-2009, 02:06 AM
Ah, a veritable witch riding the back, or in this case, the body! I'm enjoying this piece as it grows Kunzite, I'm honored to be reading such good stuff.

07-26-2009, 08:34 AM
this is rock'n roll too, fantastic