AnnieHall
10-26-2006, 01:04 PM
I never thought I'd write another tickle story after the last two. I didn't like writing the actual act of tickling because I didn't want to sound cheesy or unoriginal, and I mean, how many different ways can you actually describe tickling or laughter?
But today I was people-watching in the cafeteria of my school as I saw a professor-type man flirting with a scantilly-clad young blonde woman across from me.
A spark of inspiration hit and before I knew it, this story was sitting on the pages before me, amidst notes on ways of analyzing film style. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
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Casey's long blonde hair draped across one shoulder as she wrote furiously. She was oblivious to the crude glances she was getting from the men in the cafeteria and also to the dirty looks she was garnering from the women.
It was about 10am on a Thursday and she had some time to kill before her next class, so she got a coffee and a greeting card for her friend's birthday. She sat down at a table near the window.
She was tired from a night of partying. Parties weren't restricted to the weekends when you were in college and she'd barely gotten any sleep last night because of it.
In her exhausted state, she had hardly noticed what she'd put on this morning. It was no wonder she was getting the looks she was. A black leather skirt barely reached the middle of her tanned, muscular thighs and a few inches lower began her thigh-high leather boots. The purple shirt she wore was so tight and low-cut that it left little, if anything, to the imagination. And her platinum blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail.
She was so engrossed in the card she was writing that she barely noticed him sit down.
"Someone's getting a lot of attention," he said.
She looked up, puzzled. To the average observer, it sounded as if he was referring to her and the looks she'd been getting.
"Excuse me?" she said in a voice sweeter than one would expect of the near six foot tall blonde wearing next to nothing in the month of October.
"The card you're writing. It's very long. Someone's getting a lot of attention. For your boyfriend?"
"Oh! No," she smiled, "It's my friend's birthday next week."
He smiled back. He must be a professor here, she thought. Gathering from his crisp red v-neck sweater and wire-rimmed glasses and the subtle crows' feet that peeked out from the corners of his eyes as he smiled. Despite his age, probably early 40s, he had bright blue eyes and a boyish, almost mischevious grin that made Casey feel warm all over.
"What are you majoring in?" he asked. He didn't really care, but he was doing his best to make small talk. That was the good thing about teaching at such a big university. There was never a lack of naive, fresh meat.
"I'm not really sure yet," she shrugged shyly and pulled a piece of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. As she did, Tim, the professor, caught a glimpse of her smooth, porcelain underarm.
She didn't notice.
They talked for hours, long after their coffees had cooled. He seemed nice and really intelligent and Casey had become more and more attracted to him the longer he spoke. She even missed her Earth Science and American Lit classes, but she didn't care.
Casey always had crushes on her male teachers. Ever since junior high and she wondered what it would be like to indulge in such a taboo affair like that between instructor and pupil.
"Well, Casey," he said, "It was wonderful talking to you. You're quite the bright young lady, but I have a class to get to in a few minutes, so I must be going. Remember! Poly-Sci 104. I'd love to see you in class and hear your ideas."
She let him leave with a smile and a wave and although she'd considered it, she couldn't bring herself to ask for his phone number. It'd be inappropriate.
She smiled deviously at the thought and licked the envelope that contained her card.
The cafeteria had gotten quite crowded in the past half hour. Lunchtime had begun. All of her classes came and went without her, and so she gathered her things and left. It was warmer now, mid 50s, and despite her skimpy outfit, she had a jacket and wasn't very cold at all. However, it was more the dirty thoughts in her head, than the jacket on her shoulders that were keeping her warm.
The only mailbox on campus was quite a walk away, behind all the buildings and next to the subway station she got on to go home.
She'd just closed the tiny door of the mailbox when she felt a hand cover her mouth. Her eyes opened wide with fear as she was dragged through a big metal door and led into a basement.
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Immediately, her brain throbbed with fear and she began to question why she'd worn what she had.
She was blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair. Her jacket was gone and her feet bare.
Her breathing was heavy and labored.
Footsteps circled her and she swung her head around wildly, trying to locate the presence in the room.
A single fingernail travelled up the length of her naked foot. She tried to pull her legs up and away, but she was bound at the knees and shins to the chair beneath her.
Her heart was beating out of her chest, it was the only sound in her ears, as two hands slowly traced their nails from her exposed collar bone up to her pinkening ears.
She gasped loudly through her gag and threw her head forward, sloping her shoulders away from the attacker behind her.
She felt the man's hands slowly massage her shoulders and she relaxed both her body and her guard. He leaned in and nibbled on her left ear sending electric-like currents through her body.
She let out a little yelp as her shirt was ripped from her, leaving her only in the barely-there skirt that had now ridden up to her waist.
A blush as dark as her now smeared, scarlet lipstick grew on her cheeks as she sat there almost completely exposed and in a state of sheer panic.
Two strong fingers wormed their way under her arms that were tied behind her and she laughed so hard she thought she would fall backwards, had the man not been holding her.
Her hair was plastered to her forehead and neck and the blindfold was saturated with persperation making her eyes sting a bit.
She was getting tired. The blindfold and her fear had heightened her sensitivity causing her to exhaust much sooner than normal.
A hand raked it's nails across her belly and a squeal escaped her throat. She began laughing softly in a hysterical frenzy because she soon realized she was going to be tortured in this manner for probably a very long time.
And that was when the short, abrupt, flirty tickles stopped and the real fun began.
Her chair was tipped all the way back until she was on the floor with her feet in the air. She shuddered from the sudden cold against her back. Her arms were now tied over her head to a pipe against the wall.
Surprisingly, her gag was removed.
No tickling was going on, but she was still laughing nervously.
"Don't do this to meheehee. Pleheeheease! I cahahan't take it. It's too muhuch! Please."
It would have been an odd sight for someone watching to see this fair beauty begging to be let go, but with a huge smile stuck on her face.
He tickled her left foot and right side at the same time, causing her to twist and contort against the ropes that held her. Each time she turned, the ribs on the opposite side became defined and the muscles in her stomach shone beneath a thin layer of sweat.
He left her feet and straddled her, using both hands to explore her narrow midsection. Had the walls not been so thick and heavy, someone would have surely heard her screaming laughter by now.
Her eyes welled up with tears and her laughs soon turned to wailing sobs. She'd had more than enough this time.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
A few hours later, she opened her eyes. She was untied and on the floor. She'd been covered with a man's leather jacket across her shoulders.
She looked around and smiled.
"How are you feeling, Miss Casey?" he asked.
"Just fine professor," she grinned and stood up, trading the man's jacket for her own. Her shirt was useless now, so she zipped up her coat all the way to her chin.
"Same time next week?" she asked as she pulled her hair back to its original ponytail.
"Of course. Remember! Poly-Sci 104," he winked and watched her walk out the door.
Now this was some higher learning.
But today I was people-watching in the cafeteria of my school as I saw a professor-type man flirting with a scantilly-clad young blonde woman across from me.
A spark of inspiration hit and before I knew it, this story was sitting on the pages before me, amidst notes on ways of analyzing film style. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Casey's long blonde hair draped across one shoulder as she wrote furiously. She was oblivious to the crude glances she was getting from the men in the cafeteria and also to the dirty looks she was garnering from the women.
It was about 10am on a Thursday and she had some time to kill before her next class, so she got a coffee and a greeting card for her friend's birthday. She sat down at a table near the window.
She was tired from a night of partying. Parties weren't restricted to the weekends when you were in college and she'd barely gotten any sleep last night because of it.
In her exhausted state, she had hardly noticed what she'd put on this morning. It was no wonder she was getting the looks she was. A black leather skirt barely reached the middle of her tanned, muscular thighs and a few inches lower began her thigh-high leather boots. The purple shirt she wore was so tight and low-cut that it left little, if anything, to the imagination. And her platinum blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail.
She was so engrossed in the card she was writing that she barely noticed him sit down.
"Someone's getting a lot of attention," he said.
She looked up, puzzled. To the average observer, it sounded as if he was referring to her and the looks she'd been getting.
"Excuse me?" she said in a voice sweeter than one would expect of the near six foot tall blonde wearing next to nothing in the month of October.
"The card you're writing. It's very long. Someone's getting a lot of attention. For your boyfriend?"
"Oh! No," she smiled, "It's my friend's birthday next week."
He smiled back. He must be a professor here, she thought. Gathering from his crisp red v-neck sweater and wire-rimmed glasses and the subtle crows' feet that peeked out from the corners of his eyes as he smiled. Despite his age, probably early 40s, he had bright blue eyes and a boyish, almost mischevious grin that made Casey feel warm all over.
"What are you majoring in?" he asked. He didn't really care, but he was doing his best to make small talk. That was the good thing about teaching at such a big university. There was never a lack of naive, fresh meat.
"I'm not really sure yet," she shrugged shyly and pulled a piece of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. As she did, Tim, the professor, caught a glimpse of her smooth, porcelain underarm.
She didn't notice.
They talked for hours, long after their coffees had cooled. He seemed nice and really intelligent and Casey had become more and more attracted to him the longer he spoke. She even missed her Earth Science and American Lit classes, but she didn't care.
Casey always had crushes on her male teachers. Ever since junior high and she wondered what it would be like to indulge in such a taboo affair like that between instructor and pupil.
"Well, Casey," he said, "It was wonderful talking to you. You're quite the bright young lady, but I have a class to get to in a few minutes, so I must be going. Remember! Poly-Sci 104. I'd love to see you in class and hear your ideas."
She let him leave with a smile and a wave and although she'd considered it, she couldn't bring herself to ask for his phone number. It'd be inappropriate.
She smiled deviously at the thought and licked the envelope that contained her card.
The cafeteria had gotten quite crowded in the past half hour. Lunchtime had begun. All of her classes came and went without her, and so she gathered her things and left. It was warmer now, mid 50s, and despite her skimpy outfit, she had a jacket and wasn't very cold at all. However, it was more the dirty thoughts in her head, than the jacket on her shoulders that were keeping her warm.
The only mailbox on campus was quite a walk away, behind all the buildings and next to the subway station she got on to go home.
She'd just closed the tiny door of the mailbox when she felt a hand cover her mouth. Her eyes opened wide with fear as she was dragged through a big metal door and led into a basement.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Immediately, her brain throbbed with fear and she began to question why she'd worn what she had.
She was blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair. Her jacket was gone and her feet bare.
Her breathing was heavy and labored.
Footsteps circled her and she swung her head around wildly, trying to locate the presence in the room.
A single fingernail travelled up the length of her naked foot. She tried to pull her legs up and away, but she was bound at the knees and shins to the chair beneath her.
Her heart was beating out of her chest, it was the only sound in her ears, as two hands slowly traced their nails from her exposed collar bone up to her pinkening ears.
She gasped loudly through her gag and threw her head forward, sloping her shoulders away from the attacker behind her.
She felt the man's hands slowly massage her shoulders and she relaxed both her body and her guard. He leaned in and nibbled on her left ear sending electric-like currents through her body.
She let out a little yelp as her shirt was ripped from her, leaving her only in the barely-there skirt that had now ridden up to her waist.
A blush as dark as her now smeared, scarlet lipstick grew on her cheeks as she sat there almost completely exposed and in a state of sheer panic.
Two strong fingers wormed their way under her arms that were tied behind her and she laughed so hard she thought she would fall backwards, had the man not been holding her.
Her hair was plastered to her forehead and neck and the blindfold was saturated with persperation making her eyes sting a bit.
She was getting tired. The blindfold and her fear had heightened her sensitivity causing her to exhaust much sooner than normal.
A hand raked it's nails across her belly and a squeal escaped her throat. She began laughing softly in a hysterical frenzy because she soon realized she was going to be tortured in this manner for probably a very long time.
And that was when the short, abrupt, flirty tickles stopped and the real fun began.
Her chair was tipped all the way back until she was on the floor with her feet in the air. She shuddered from the sudden cold against her back. Her arms were now tied over her head to a pipe against the wall.
Surprisingly, her gag was removed.
No tickling was going on, but she was still laughing nervously.
"Don't do this to meheehee. Pleheeheease! I cahahan't take it. It's too muhuch! Please."
It would have been an odd sight for someone watching to see this fair beauty begging to be let go, but with a huge smile stuck on her face.
He tickled her left foot and right side at the same time, causing her to twist and contort against the ropes that held her. Each time she turned, the ribs on the opposite side became defined and the muscles in her stomach shone beneath a thin layer of sweat.
He left her feet and straddled her, using both hands to explore her narrow midsection. Had the walls not been so thick and heavy, someone would have surely heard her screaming laughter by now.
Her eyes welled up with tears and her laughs soon turned to wailing sobs. She'd had more than enough this time.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
A few hours later, she opened her eyes. She was untied and on the floor. She'd been covered with a man's leather jacket across her shoulders.
She looked around and smiled.
"How are you feeling, Miss Casey?" he asked.
"Just fine professor," she grinned and stood up, trading the man's jacket for her own. Her shirt was useless now, so she zipped up her coat all the way to her chin.
"Same time next week?" she asked as she pulled her hair back to its original ponytail.
"Of course. Remember! Poly-Sci 104," he winked and watched her walk out the door.
Now this was some higher learning.