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Kunzite
12-23-2001, 09:19 PM
Hello once again! Another chapter here just in time for the holidays, in the spirit of spreading cheer to all (with the possible exception of Miss Gingers). I hope everyone continues to enjoy these!

Best Holiday Wishes,
Kunzite


"What You Can't See" (Chapter 5)

It was not without some consternation that Miss Victoria Gingers entered the front doors of St. Mary’s School for Girls the next morning, tempered by a long, sleepless night. She had stayed awake far into the early hours of the morning: each time she felt ready to fall asleep and allowed her concentration to lapse, the tickling returned to make her start awake. She spent most of the night pacing, trying with all her effort to stay awake and stave off the tickling. Although she was tired now, she entertained no thoughts of going to sleep.

As Miss Gingers walked through the hallway to her classroom, her thoughts focused on herself, not only on her ordeal of last night but also what she could expect today in school. She looked down at her feet and walked as swiftly as she could, wasting no time in the hallways where another episode could be most embarrassing. She was walking so quickly, she did not notice the other figure until she had bumped into it.

Miss Gingers was knocked back a few steps, and the papers she was holding fell from her hands into a heap on the floor. She apologized to whomever she had hit, and only after she had gathered her papers again did she look up to see who she had hit. Miss Catherine Sydney, one of the mathematics teachers as St. Mary’s, was sitting on the floor where she had fallen in their collision.

Miss Gingers wondered why she remained on the ground when she had nothing to pick up. But her astute eye picked up several signs which, on any other day, she might not have noticed. Miss Sydney wore a large, forced grin on her face, and looked as though he was trying hard not to laugh, even though no one was around her except for Miss Gingers. Her body trembled slightly, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She tried to get up on her feet, but every time she did, she only collapsed again under her own weight, giggling gently. She had lost one of her shoes on the ground, and Miss Gingers saw that her exposed foot was wriggling as though it were being tickled furiously. Her toes in particular danced in all directions, and her knees shook every time she tried to straighten her legs.

Miss Gingers reached down to offer a hand to Miss Sydney and help her to her feet. She had to use all of her strength to pull Catherine to her feet, as she was incapable of exerting any effort except to hold in the laughter she was fighting. As soon as she was standing, Miss Sydney quickly put on her other shoe, and with a very hurried, “Thank you,” as her back was already turned, Miss Sydney dashed off in the direction of the ladies’ room.

Miss Gingers followed her, standing just outside the door to see if her intuitions were true. She did not have to listen hard to hear the sounds from within: the slamming of a stall door, followed by wild laughs mixed with moans and shrieks, and what sounded like feet kicking against the stall door. Miss Gingers walked away before Catherine had time to emerge. It appeared that she was not alone, she mused to herself. A thought both comforting and frightening.

* * * * *

It was not until later in the day, ad both of them were walking towards the weekly faculty meeting, that Miss Gingers saw Miss Sydney again. Miss Sydney walked out of her classroom door just as Miss Gingers was passing it. The two of them walked down the hall towards the meeting room together in silence. As they saw each other, they shared only a mute glance, continuing to walk together without sharing a spoken word, but both understanding each other on a far deeper level. To the casual onlooker, both of them would have looked equally nervous.

As they entered the meeting room and took their seats, Miss Gingers sat down at the table, directly across from Miss Sydney. She looked around the room briefly, surrounded by all the teachers at the school, with the headmaster at the head of the table. Such a public place, she knew this would be the ideal place for her assailant to strike again. And yet, almost as soon as she had this thought, she nearly jumped in her chair as the hands penetrated her defenses for just as long as it took to gently squeeze her ribs, then disappeared. Miss Gingers stiffened noticeable in her chair. She would have to remain completely alert.

For the first few minutes, it looked as though she might succeed. The headmaster, far too fond of listening to the sound of his own voice, mostly cared for positive affirmations that everything was going well. All Miss Gingers had to do was mindlessly agree with everything, and concentrate her energies on fighting off the tickling. Every time the fingers were just about the brush across her skin, she felt it just a moment before, and somehow pushed it away.

Miss Sydney, across the table, was enjoying slightly less control over her situation. Miss Gingers saw the all-too-noticeable signs of a losing struggle that she herself must have exhibited yesterday in class. Miss Sydney continually shuffled her feet, and in a few minutes had lost both her shoes on the ground. She could see her tightly pursed lips trembling dangerously, forced into a grin. Miss Sydney’s chest heaved up and down, and her arms held tightly down to her sides told Miss Gingers that Marianne was quite probably invading Miss Sydney’s underarms right now. Miss Gingers couldn’t guess how long Catherine could hold out, especially since she looked ready to laugh at any minute. If she was anywhere near as ticklish as Miss Gingers was, somehow it seemed like it wouldn’t be long enough.

“And what do you think, Victoria?” asked the headmaster suddenly, shaking her out of her musings. “Any suggestions?”

Miss Victoria turned to the head of the table unconsciously, and just as she did her own problems arose again. That single lapse of concentration was all the hands required to return, and begin scribbling across her ticklish tummy. She almost giggled for a moment, but gathering all her strength, she sucked in her stomach, and tried to fight it off…

“Um, and that would be, suggestions for…?” she asked hopefully. Every time she talked, the hands gained more ground, now sliding out to squeeze her sides, traveling up, just below her underarms. She couldn’t let them get in there, she told herself. She had to fight it, concentrating all her mental energies on protecting herself.

“Are you listening, Victoria? We’re discussing fundraising options to support the new wing. I’ve been told that you had some suggestions?”

It was true, she thought. At least she had them at one time in the past. But the headmaster was expecting a response, and she tried to remember what it was she had to say, only letting her attention wander for a moment. But a moment was all she needed to lose all the ground she had so painstakingly gained. The second her attention was divided, she felt the hands slide up to her underarms, wriggling inside the newly won area and becoming stronger by the second.

“Um, I…still working on…mmmphh…discuss later…” Miss Gingers managed to respond, stifling her giggles. Every word she said took her attention away from the pressing battle, and every time she spoke the tickling became more intense. Already the fingers were sliding up and down the ticklish hollows, stopping in the exact center where she was the most ticklish of all to dig softly into her skin and pinch it gently. Her arms tightened to her sides like vice grips, but she knew no movement of her body could protect her, only concentration. She picked up a pencil and squeezed it between her fingers, trying to focus her strength.

From across the table, Miss Gingers head the sound of a chair shifting. She looked across to see Miss Sydney, shifting uncomfortably in her seat with a look on her face that was seconds away from an outburst of laughter. She tried to put her shoes back on, but this effort apparently only weakened her. In a moment, her kicking feet had pitched her shoes off again. One of them struck Miss Gingers in the leg underneath the table, and in that moment of distraction the hands suddenly changed their tactics, each finger wiggling up and down separately. The unfocused tickling broke through her concentration, and caused Miss Gingers to giggle aloud.

“Is something funny, Victoria?” asked the headmaster as he continued to outline plans for construction. Miss Gingers looked up desperately, holding her breath and praying she would not be forced to talk. With a feeble smile, she shook her head silently, the only communication she dared try.

Across from her, Miss Sydney continued to squirm, but somehow managed to fight off the laughter. Miss Gingers felt like all eyes were on her now. Suddenly, she felt the kicking underneath the table stop. Miss Sydney’s eyes widened, and she suddenly held both her hands down on her chair for support. Miss Gingers only had a moment to guess what was afflicting her before she, too, could feel it. Deep down in her seat, she felt the most frightening sensation of all, one which she knew she could not resist. Inside her panties she felt the touch of the single feather dancing up and down, capable of tickling her to madness.

Miss Gingers almost gasped, and like Miss Sydney her hands darted down to her seat for support. She had to fight it, she could fight it, she repeated to herself. She focused only on her own body, forgetting about the room, only knowing that she had to make the tickling disappear. Slowly, the fingers in her underarms faded from pinches to caresses, then gentle touches intermittently, and then finally, nothing. She focused then on the feather, still there and stroking her ticklish buns, beneath her clothing where she could not get to it even if it were real. She tried, she desperately tried to make it vanish…

“And so, are we in agreement?” came the headmaster’s voice from the head of the table. Involuntarily her attention was diverted only for a second, but in that second she had already lost. Miss Gingers could have cried when she realized what she had done. She felt the feather now, more keenly than ever. Every sweep up and down in those tender, concealed recesses robbed her of another ounce of control. Slowly, maddeningly, the feather brushed up and down, as confident as a foe who already knew that it had won. Miss Gingers knew she was hopelessly ticklish there, and every fresh caress caused a new tear to trickle down her cheek and her grin to broaden by another half-inch.

Miss Gingers heard a sound from across the table as a chair was pulled back hastily. “Sorry…restroom,” said the voice of Miss Sydney, who like her was afraid to speak for fear the effort would break her. Without further apologies, she legged it out the door, her bare feet making no sound as both her shoes had been left underneath the table.

Miss Gingers cursed herself for not thinking of this sooner. Did it matter what people thought? She quickly stood up, biting her tongue and trying to force down the tickling sensations underneath her skirt. She began to run towards the door, making the excuse of visiting the ladies’ room herself, when she heard the headmaster’s voice.

“Can you wait a moment, Victoria? We don’t want this meeting to completely fall apart. Now, please everybody turn your attention to one of three proposed plans for entrances to the new wing.”

Miss Gingers sat back down, frantic. She needed to leave soon! With every sweep, the feather dipped continually lower, reaching more ticklish regions each time which required all her composure to fight. She sat still, trying to look as though she was interested, while inside she screamed for release. She felt the tickling feather slide farther and farther down, and she knew where it was headed. She had to get out of here before it was too late! But how? The pencil she held between her fingers snapped in two without her even realizing it. She fumbled around for another pencil, anything to relieve the tension, but she found nothing.

Miss Gingers’ eyes widened even more, and she let out a nearly silent yelp the next moment. She felt the feather slide all the way down to the bottoms of her cheeks, and push itself slowly through her legs, brushing against her inner thighs and softly tickling her swollen clit. Miss Gingers bit her lip, and grasped the edges of the table with both her hands. Her entire body trembled, both from the unbelievably intense tickling this caused, and all the repressed tension it was coaxing out, one kiss at a time.

The feather pushed itself all the way through her thighs, and then began to pull itself back, repeating the endless, mind-racking journey in reverse. Miss Gingers’ knuckles grew white as she grasped the table edges with all her might. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and the only sound she could hear was her own racing pulse. When would Miss Sydney get back? She had to wait until then, but could she? Already, between her legs she felt a slowly spreading damp spot on her panties, where the feather was showing its handiwork. She didn’t think that she could weather this torture. Would she have to lose all control here, in front of everyone? As terrible as that thought was, it was nothing to enduring this torture for even another minute.

Suddenly, the doors opened, and Miss Gingers could have shouted for joy. Miss Sydney was coming back into the conference room. It didn’t matter whether she left now or not. Miss Gingers leapt to her feet and dashed out the room, not even bothering to mention where she was going. From behind her, she heard the voice of the headmaster, asking what had happened to decency.

Miss Gingers dashed down the hallway, ready if necessary to return to her office for a repeat performance of yesterday. She ran to the nearest ladies’ room and ran into the stall. It was deserted.

The first thing to catch her attention was that someone had been here minutes before. There were clearly signs of an accident: someone had achieved release only moments before getting into position. Miss Gingers, however, could only think of herself. Pulling down her skirt and underwear in a motion that she had learned so well these last few days, she bent over the toilet, and for one moment she closed her eyes and allowed herself to stop fighting.

That single moment was all she required. For the second time in two days, that feather between her legs pushed Miss Gingers over the edge of climax. Without all of her will to hold it in, that deluge broke through, and for a moment Miss Gingers forgot about everything: the meeting, the tickling, everything wiped clean by the waves of pure pleasure coursing through her body, intensified by their captivity for so long. She had no idea how long she was in the stall, only that it felt like an eternity, and every moment the sensations became more intense than anything she could have imagined.

And then, gasping for air, Miss Gingers looked around and replaced her clothing. It was gone: the feather, the fingers, again driven away by the force of her orgasm. Miss Gingers shyly realized everything that had happened in retrospect. She went to the mirror and splashed her face with cold water, and then opened the restroom door.

Just outside, waiting for her, was someone she knew. Miss Sydney stood facing the door, waiting for her to emerge. She looked at Miss Gingers with an expression of total understanding.

“We should talk,” she said simply.

goddess_nemesis
12-24-2001, 11:48 AM
Awesome! Hurry with the next one, Kunzite! :D

DallasFootTickler
12-24-2001, 02:49 PM
This is a really great series. Very unique! Can't wait to see what happens next!

-DFT

J-dark
12-24-2001, 09:31 PM
:yowzer: Whoa!! :yowzer:

Kunzite, you have done it yet again! Execellent work on this latest
installment of the trials of 'poor' Miss Gingers. There's nothing I enjoy
more than reading a well written story that assaults my pallet in more
than just the traditional way. The tickling and torment is excellent---
this IS the TMF after all--- but the storyline itself so compelling, and
original. It's not a great tickling story, as much as a great story about tickling.
If that makes any sense.

Keep up the good work, and start typing up the next exciting installment!

J-dark

Kunzite
12-25-2001, 02:28 PM
Thanks, everyone! I like to hold off on installments until I have enough to work as a stand-alone chapter, and I'm glad to see people are enjoying the story. I'll finish the next part as soon as I get the chance!

Capt. Spalding
12-25-2001, 10:43 PM
I must say that you're doing a lovely job detailing the slow, very
calculated undoing of Victoria. I find my sympathy at her plight--Who
wants to be continually publically humiliated, after all?--tempered
by, ah, eager curiosity at how long she can hold out THIS TIME against
her very skilled astral tickler. The added wrinkle in this chapter--
Victoria herself observing and empathizing with a colleague under like
torment--was a wonderful way to additionally tease Miss Gingers AND
the reader. I realize that I'm calling for the tickling of minors here, but I can't help but hope she and Catherine can somehow strike back at their clearly merciless pupils. Without highly developed
mental powers of their own, however, it looks like a vain hope. And
their nightmare will continue. (Not that I'm complaining...)
Thanks for the thoughtful Christmas present!

Dave2112
12-26-2001, 04:47 AM
This is a great series, highly original. Every chapter of this gets better and better. The writing itself is very nice...you can really get into the feel of the story. Thanks!:D

Slappy McGee
12-28-2001, 01:55 AM
I never cease to be amazed at how great this story is!!! keep it coming, please.

MTJpub
12-29-2001, 03:49 AM
Kunzite

It is no surprise to me that you can create a fiendishly delicious tale of tickle torture. After all you frequent the pages of "Tales from the Asylum" and "Fiendish Intent" with your devious tales. However you have outdone yourself with this marvelous series.

BRAVO!

love feet
07-23-2009, 02:45 PM
wow!

jonsmith
07-24-2009, 02:21 AM
Ah, nothing beats having a good companion in ones torture, as they say, Misery Loves company.