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  1. #1

    The Evil Teacher's Revenge (f/f) - My second (Improved) tickling story

    Ok, so here it is. I've been working on this on and off for a few months and finally got my finger out and finished it this week. I put considerably more effort into this than my previous story, The Tickler Of The Opera, and so would apreciate honest comments. If this blows, let me know and tell me what I can do better. Please!







    ‘Oh for Pete’s sake, just cut it out would you?!’, ‘Hold still!!’ and ‘You’re like a bloody kid!’ were just some of the angry reprimands Emma had received from Alison. They had barely been there 20 minutes. Alison was supposed to be doing this as a good natured birthday present for Emma, who had turned 22 the past Saturday, but as ‘for Pete’s’ steadily turned into ‘for fuck’s’, Emma sensed she was wearing her friends’ patience to its thinnest.

    Alison was a beauty therapist, and had known Emma since they were sixteen, studying beauty therapy at college. Emma had since dropped the subject; Alison had excelled and opened a £500 000 pound parlour in the middle of Soho. Emma dropped Beauty for P.E. and so saw less and less of Alison as the years went by, but invited her to her birthday party anyway, and went for coffee with her the morning afterwards. It turned out they had more in common than ever, and they got on as well as they did at the tender age they first met: giggling at strangers and embarrassing one another in public. Alison hadn’t brought a present with her to the party and so offered the opportunity to reminisce some more: she would ‘make’ Emma ‘up’ for free, a service which usually set people back about £100. There was only one problem, one that had besieged Emma her whole life and especially throughout her troubled days in Beauty class: when it came to anyone touching her feet, she was too ticklish.

    It had been a huge relief to get rid of the torturous ‘Pedicure’ session of her timetable. For a beauty student she looked fine, and looking back on it that was probably the reason that she chose to do beauty: she was beautiful. Her brunette hair complemented her facial features perfectly. Her small, pretty nose, her large eyes and wide mouth fell nicely under the neck length hair, which she always took good care of. She would often throw things together and not even need makeup to look great, but she wasn’t very good at the subject. The pedicure classes particularly bothered her, because she was certain the lecturer, Ms Melrose, used to purposely pick her out for examples when practising techniques for pedicures. Emma could’ve sworn it was because she enjoyed her over-ticklish reaction to any kind of stimuli on her feet. In the end, she had confronted her about it, been told she was ridiculous, and had taken ‘revenge’ in the form of a fake photo of Ms Melrose with the College Principal’s husband. Emma’s then boyfriend, Nick, had masterminded the image on his computer, and it was certainly effective. The Principal cracked down on Ms Melrose obsessively, looking for an excuse to sack her. In the end she found one: Emma. Emma complained about the pedicure classes to the Principal and they arranged a ‘surprise inspection’, in which the Principal burst into the room and accused Ms Melrose of extortionate bullying, which just so happened to be a sackable offence. Ms Melrose had never been seen since, and in fact Emma had been the last one to see her in the College Car Park on her final day, in which she had sworn revenge.

    ‘For Fuck’s sake, Emma!’ Alison shouted ‘It’s just the same as at college!’ ‘I can’t help it!’ Emma moaned ‘You know I’ve always been dead ticklish’. Alison frowned. ‘Tell you what, there’s this new thing that we have, actually, to keep people still. I bought it a while ago. You aren’t the only customer I’ve had that’s ticklish, but they can usually keep still! Wanna try it?’ ‘Um, I suppose so, I suppose we’d better’ Emma said, defeated. ‘Sorry’. ‘It’s fine, it’s just really annoying you squirming about, that’s all!’ Alison reassured her, caressing Emma’s cheek with the back of her hand. ‘I’ll go and get it’

    Alison was gone for about ten minutes, and then entered the room dragging something through the doorway. It was a set of large, dark, wooden stocks. They looked incredibly sinister. ‘No. Bloody. Way’ Emma stated stone facedly. ‘Then what?!’ Alison shouted again ‘I’m doing this as a birthday present for you because I felt terrible at not buying you anything for your birthday! I want to do this for you. This is a special thing we have for awkward customers, and I’ve just banged my head getting it out of the bloody basement! I’m going to a lot of trouble here because I haven’t seen you in ages and you’re being completely bloody fussy about the whole thing!’ She was right, Emma thought. She felt embarrassed that she was being such a Diva about the whole thing. Poor Alison was clearly putting more work into this than she would have usually. ‘Have you really banged your head?’ Emma asked. Alison gestured for Emma to touch her scalp, and she did. There was a large bump on her crown. ‘Ok, I’m sorry Ally, you’re completely right. I’m being a bloody idiot about this. If medieval methods are needed to restrain me I guess medieval methods are what we’ll have to use’. The girls both laughed, and Alison proceeded to haul the stocks across the room to Emma’s chair.

    ‘This is the first time I’ve used these, so tell me if they’re too tight or anything’ Alison said as she guided Emma’s ankles into the appropriate holes. Emma was expecting the stocks to be rough and uncomfortable, but there was silk lining the holes and it felt nice on her bare ankles as Alison brought them down and locked the padlock at the side. She then lowered Emma’s chair, which could be lowered or raised accordingly, so that Emma was parallel with the stocks. ‘That feels ok, actually’ Emma commented. What wasn’t Ok was what followed. Alison went behind Emma, so she couldn’t see what she was doing. ‘What are you doing?’ Emma wondered aloud. She then felt her arms being pulled behind her back sharply and rope being wrapped over and over her wrists, creating a mass of rope around them which weighed her down slightly. ‘What the….?’ Emma said in raised tones as the ropes were secured to the back of the chair she was sitting in. She tried to wiggle free, but this only turned the chair slightly: she couldn’t move. ‘What the fuck are you doing Al?!’ Emma shouted. She then felt Alison’s mouth next to her ear ‘I’m so, so, sorry’.

    Alison came around to face Emma, and whispered ‘She made me do it Em; it was only because of her that I got this place. She knew the previous owner, and made sure I had it. I owe my entire life now to her. Everything. I wouldn’t have anything I have now if it wasn’t for her. She only did it on condition that I do this in return; it wasn’t my idea and I don’t like doing it.’ Emma knew secretly who Alison was talking about, but asked anyway. ‘Who?’. Alison sighed. ‘You can come in now.’

    ‘That, my girlie, would be moi.’ An evil voice said, one behind the door. Emma definitely knew who it was now. She stuck her leg out from behind the door like a kickline dancer, brought it down, and walked into the room. She was just as Emma had remembered. Slightly older, but still with the same thin features and pronounced jaw bone, still the obsessively trim figure. And still with the almost Cruella De Vil hair colouring: all black with a white streak going from her front hairline to her back hairline on the left side of her head. She still looked as malicious as ever. Emma was petrified. It was Ms Melrose.

    ‘You can leave us alone now’ Melrose said, still staring into Emma’s eyes with wicked glee. ‘Ok. I’m definitely coming back after three hours, though, no more.’ ‘And no less.’ Melrose said, playing the scenario for all it worth to the terrified Emma ‘Be sure to bring the shutters down, we don’t want anybody seeing us. Poor Emma won’t anyway.’ Melrose grinned. Alison surveyed Emma with a pained look ‘Are you sure...’ ‘Abso-fucking-lutely, lovely’ Melrose said, fully expecting protest from Alison ‘Remember the deal.’ She raised her hand in a wave. Alison’s cue to exit had come. Emma stayed silent and tried to avoid Melrose’s awful gaze, which had been on her since she had entered the room. Alison walked out of the room. Emma heard some doors opening, and then the slow, drawn out, unmistakable sound of shop shutters closing. ‘I guess we’re alone, then’ Melrose grinned.

    ‘First things first’ She said, striding over so she was next to Emma. She reached her hand back and promptly slapped Emma across the cheek. Emma let out an animated gasp, angry and shocked. She would have said something, but hoped that if she kept her thoughts to herself Melrose might be lenient ‘We both know what that’s for, you little bitch!’ She said emotionally. ‘But that is the last physical harm you will be receiving this afternoon, rest assured’ she said, apparently much more calm and suddenly quite polite. ‘Now, should I tell you where I’ve been working since I was sacked from St Angus’? I’ll tell you. Pete’s foot farm. You probably haven’t heard of it: I don’t live in London any more. But, believe me, it’s the most disgusting, rank, pedicurist’s in Britain, and I should know. My day consists of picking at common old women’s feet and treating corns, bunions, verukas, you bloody name it….’ Melrose shuddered ‘…..and after the shit hole shuts I have to clean the entire place, including the toilets. My salary has gone from £40 000 a year to £20 000. Even an airhead such as yourself can probably work out that it’s gone down 50%. Fifty percent!!! After my sacking I couldn’t get an educational job anywhere!!’ Melrose screamed. ‘And all because I had the misfortune of meeting one little shit named Emma Atkinson’ Emma could hold her tongue no longer ‘You stupid old cow, it’s your own fault! You got what was coming to you, you evil bitch! Nobody made you fuck with me, and you made me fuck with you! I’m glad you’re suffering!’ Emma panted, suddenly regretting her spontaneous remarks. Melrose smiled. ‘Funny you should choose to use the word ‘suffering’, dearie, because that’s exactly what you’re going to spend the next three hours doing.’

    Melrose had a large bag with her, which she set down at the table to the side of Emma. Emma craned her neck about 5 inches – as far as she could – to try and peek inside but couldn’t see. ‘Curiosity killed the cat, dear’ Melrose snapped, and she moved the bag down to behind the stocks, out of Emma’s view completely. She then fetched a stool, placed it underneath Emma’s knees, and brought more rope – presumably from the bag – and tied it around her knees and the stool several times, immobilising Emma’s legs completely. Emma now could not move at all, her hands were held behind her back, her legs were now trapped, and more worryingly, her feet were stuck through a pair of medieval stocks. Melrose stepped back to admire her handiwork. She grinned maliciously.

    She strolled down to the stocks at Emma’s feet and crouched down, obviously rummaging in the bag. She then fetched another stool and set it at Emma’s feet. Emma knew what was going to happen. She felt her right slip on sandal being removed, felt the sole’s support of her toes disappear, and her beautiful feet were bared. She heard Melrose tut - ‘Alison made quite a mess on your shoes with the nail polish, so you must have been really struggling, hmm?’ She held up the shoe. Indeed there was nail polish all over the strap that went across the tops of her toes. ‘Do I take it, then, that you are still ticklish?’ Melrose smiled. Emma had to say something again ‘Please, I’ll pay you, I’ll admit to making it all up, I’ll find that old principal and tell her, just don’t-ahhhhh’ She stopped mid sentence as Melrose applied her long nail to Emma’s sole, scratching it quickly up and down the ball of her foot. Melrose shook her head knowingly ‘My girl, I have been waiting for this for far too long to let you try and talk your way out of this, so please, shhh’ she stopped and Emma shut up.
    Melrose slipped her other shoe off. Emma wiggled her toes subconsciously, a sight which clearly delighted Melrose. She then felt something sticky…. Duct tape! ….. being wrapped around her big toes. She tried to move her toes and feet, but found it impossible. She was totally trapped in this spider’s web. All she could do now was count down the minutes, and try and fight back in the only way she now could – denying Melrose the twisted satisfaction of hearing her laugh. Her eyes set, her brow furrowed, she would not open her mouth for three hours. Definitely.

    Melrose sat down. Emma knew what was coming and that it would be completely unbearable, but she would have to bear it. She waited for about two minutes before anything happened, and she was ready for it. Melrose began playfully flickering her fingernails across Emma’s defenceless soles. She wasn’t looking at Emma at first – she seemed to be rooting in the bag. After a few minutes of tickling Emma seemingly accidentally, she turned and smiled sweetly at Emma ‘Now, are these feets tickwish?’ She said in a baby voice ‘Cootsa cootsa cootsa, wuggle wuggle wuggle!!!’ She was mocking Emma, illustrating the dominant-dominated role between them. Emma difficulty stifled a giggle over how ridiculous Melrose sounded. ‘I’m not worried about you not laughing yet little girl’ Melrose assured Emma in her normal, nasty voice ‘It’s been a few years; your feet have de-sensitized a bit. Don’t worry; we’ll have you nice and happy soon!’ She shouted enthusiastically before shifting back to serious: ‘If it’s the last thing I do.’

    Melrose kept the same pace, which, if truth be told, was driving Emma insane with tickly sensation: the nail seemed to be adapted to delve into every nook and cranny in her feet, and it had license to go where it pleased, seen as Emma’s feet were completely immobilised. Emma was struggling already. ‘Mmnnnnhhhh’ and ‘Sspppkkkk’ was all she could utter. Her resolve to beat the bitch was steadily declining. Melrose began scraping her long acrylic thumb nails along Emma’s insteps now, which caught her off guard as the sensation doubled. She shook her head once, flicking her hair against her face and trying to override the horrible tickling which was now totally consistent. Her head shook once again in thin air, and she was starting to giggle under her lips. Her eyes felt as if they were going to bulge out of her head, so she thrashed her head in defiance again and again and again, and her lips were slowly coming apart. She had only got to about ten minutes.

    ‘OOOOOOOKKKAY OKAY! STOP ITEEEEEEEEEHHEHEHEHEHEHE!! HEHEHEHEHEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHA! STTTTTOOOOPPPPP!!!!!!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!!! AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!! NOHONO!!!’

    The laughter poured from Emma’s mouth like electricity from a plug socket. Her feet were the switch and Ms Melrose was now greatly pleased to be operating her. ‘Aha! What did I tell you? As ticklish as ever!! More than two hours left now, how will you survive!? I suppose we’ll have to see if you will first….’ She broke into a full speed tickle assault and Emma, apart from her head, was completely still. She just had to laugh like a mental patient. Her neck was beginning to become quite sore from all the shaking and the chair began to move a little. Melrose stopped. ‘Hmmm… Have to fix that’ She walked over to a large mirror that was propped against the wall and brought it over to Emma. She went behind Emma’s head and tied a rope around her shoulders, which she then secured to the mirror. Emma’s movement was restricted considerably. Melrose then took out from the bag a large cotton belt, the same as off a bathrobe, and wrapped it around the mirror and Emma’s head. Emma couldn’t budge an inch. ‘That’s better. Now you cannot move at all, bitch!’ Melrose proclaimed, before bursting into a gale of horrible laughter that signalled that she was going to enjoy the next two and a half hours.

    She went back to her chair, confident that she wouldn’t have to move again. She began beckoning her index finger in the very middle of Emma’s foot. ‘Oh my God, I can’t fucking move’ Emma thought to herself as she realised how terrible this was going to be. She could now not move an inch of her body and started to pant.

    ‘Sssssssssttop………..Ssssssssssttop……hehehehehestopi iiiit!!’

    The horrible helplessness of the situation was killing Emma, who could only wag her tongue in pathetic, continually indecipherable pleas which fell on deaf ears. ‘Now let’s see how much fun we can have’ Melrose said in her over dramatised tone. She began to use all four fingers and her thumb steadily against the soles of Emma’s feet. Emma was soon giggling like the schoolgirl that had dropped her into this situation. Melrose arched her back, as if hunching over a piano, dropped her head closer to Emma’s soles, and began wiggling her fingers slowly, all the while staring at Emma with a look of obvious enjoyment on her face. Emma could not take it at all. She was giggling incessantly and this time it did not look like Melrose was going to abandon her post. The brush of acrylic against her super-soft skin was torturous, especially as she could not move any part of her body. After Melrose’s latest restraint she did not now even have the added luxury of being able to shake her head. This had been well planned out and although Emma hated to admit it, Melrose was coming victorious, through and through. Emma’s giggles soon escalated to laughter.

    The laughter was quite similar to the tempo of the tickling, not rapid, but steady and continual. The movement against her soles was just too much but as it was not exaggerated or fast it did not wear Emma out. It was pure torture. Emma found herself pleading again, desperate as ever.

    ‘AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANNNNOOOOOO!!!!! PLEASE MISS!’

    Melrose’s head cocked. ‘What?’
    ‘MISS!!!’ Emma bawled
    ‘HOOOO!’ Melrose cowed ‘I don’t think I ever did hear you say that in my class! You really are quite pathetic M’dear! So, you finally learned some respect then?’
    Emma just cackled in a high pitched surrender. She tried to nod, but this was restricted by the bonds to her head. She was forced to relax her head.
    ‘Hmmmm?’
    Emma tried harder to form words.
    ‘Whatsat? I can’t hear anything!’
    Melrose picked up the pace of the tickling to ensure Emma had no hope of replying.
    ‘Oh, guess not’ Melrose said in her effective mocking tone. She shut her mouth and tickled away, slightly faster. Emma’s laughter didn’t sound painful, more like a child or girlfriend being tickled against their will, not the sheer suffering she was experiencing. Melrose was now humming. ‘The hills are alive with the sound of laughter!!!’ she half sang. ‘You have no idea how much I have been praying for this day. It has kept me going. In fact, I have spent many-an-hour on the beaches of my new town of residence looking for the perfect instrument to punish you with.’ Emma felt the hand that was tickling her right foot cease its momentum and even though she could not stop laughing to try and move her head, which she couldn’t do anyway, she knew without looking that that hand was delving in the bag that Melrose had brought with her. Surely enough, she received confirmation of this.

    A firm but soft thing, which Emma knew was undoubtedly a feather, began wiggling in between her small toes, moving from side to side, slipping in and out of tender crevasses which created a new maddening sensation within Emma. It was a completely different feeling than Melrose’s fingernails, and if anything felt a whole lot worse. It was inescapable – Melrose was simply moving it horizontally without stopping between Emma’s immovable toes. Emma had now started laughing totally uncontrollably. She was screeching and found herself physically unable to form words of any kind to ask for relief. The feather found its way down onto her arch, and tickled the skin devilishly, each end stroking against the tender flesh of the bottom of Emma’s foot. The fingers assigned to Emma’s left foot stopped momentarily and were replaced with another feather, after which Melrose began twirling both of them soundly against Emma’s soles. Emma just sat and laughed her lungs out. Melrose kept this up for what seemed like days, experimenting with both feathers on one foot or using a feather and nails on one foot or putting both feathers in one hand and using the fingers of the other on one foot. She even slipped her own shoe and sock off and tickled Emma with her immaculately presented toenails. Emma laughed wholeheartedly throughout. She had expected herself to tire but Melrose had honed the skill of detecting this and took her foot off the gas whenever Emma showed signs of fatigue. Emma was at the power of a true expert. After a lifetime’s worth of tickling, Melrose stopped. Emma continued laughing for at least thirty seconds and gasps for air. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop smiling. Melrose walked right up to her. ‘Hmmmm, you know you can’t move that pretty little head of yours, I could do anything to it’ Emma actually feared that Melrose had forgotten her earlier promise of no actual material harm, and gasped. Melrose grinned sinisterly, and then reached her finger forward, wiggling it, and tickled Emma’s chin. This was awful. Emma could not move her head one inch and had to sit there whilst the evil woman had her way with her only inches from her face. Emma grinned again, burst into giggles, and before she was helpless, decided to take action. She tried to bite the offending finger and her jaw shut with a snap. The tickling stopped immediately. She had missed her target but Melrose grunted angrily, before pausing and walking back to the stocks. ‘Don’t want me up here do you? I know where I’m not wanted, don’t worry! Suits me!’ Emma heard a whirring sound.

    It began immediately. A terribly forceful vibration pressing into her foot. It was, unmistakably, tiny bristles that were tickling her right foot now, each one completing its own set path on Emma’s sensitive skin. She was giggling within a few seconds and after about one minute was laughing as loudly as before. Her torturer was just holding the electric toothbrush in place; there was no resistance, such was Emma’s bondage situation. This was simply the most tickly thing that Emma had ever felt. Emma was screaming ‘NO!’ as she heard the second whirring noise and felt the tickling begin on her left foot. Pleas had disappeared off of Emma’s ‘to try’ list and she just laughed like she had never laughed before. After a few minutes Melrose once again began to combine and experiment. Holding both brushes against one foot or tickling with a brush and fingers or with a brush and feather, which was the most devastating success. Emma laughed so hard she thought she would burst. Her old teacher was enjoying every second of it, gently humming and chuckling as she deviously punished the girl who had brought her so much misery. If the apocalypse had destroyed humankind in the time that they had spent in the beauty parlour neither woman would have known it. Melrose had her ultimate dream come true and vice versa applied to Emma with the word ‘Nightmare’ inserted. The electric toothbrushes explored every nook and cranny of Emma’s soles and toes and then suddenly they stopped. Melrose lowered her face to Emma’s feet and stuck out her tongue. At first the coolness was refreshing but it soon became less pleasurable when Melrose began wiggling it across the skin, caressing and making Emma guffaw. ‘She’s really getting off on this’ Emma thought as it subsided. Still, it was better than the unbearable scrapings that the electric toothbrush had given. ‘Well, seen as I don’t trust your ‘trustworthy’ friend, I’m going to leave a little prematurely. Don’t worry, though, I’m not going to stop torturing you. You’re going to get every last minute of it until she finds you. I hope she’s late. I want to say that if I ever meet you again it will be in circumstances strikingly similar to these, so be always on your guard.’ Emma sighed in evident relief. This meant that Melrose probably wasn’t planning on doing this again. It must have cost her an arm and a leg. Melrose then kicked into activity, the fruits of which Emma could not see. Melrose kept glancing hurriedly at the clock. When Melrose finally moved out of the way to reveal what was in store for Emma, Emma gasped and began to utter comments of reason which she knew were useless. Melrose had moved her stool right up to the bottom of the stocks and had tied the electric toothbrushes so that they were bolt upright and level with Emma’s arches. She could feel them digging in to her feet slightly. Melrose cackled. ‘All totally untraceable and fingerprint free! Well, I wish I could observe what will be a hilarious scenario: you struggling against an inanimate object….. Or should that be ‘animate’?’ She switched it on and Emma bit her tongue immediately ‘Anyway I’m going to jam the door and maybe you won’t live to regret the day you crossed someone with an evil streak as repugnant as mine! I hope to see you again in the future, but probably won’t. Just one last thing….’ She reached over; clamped Emma’s mouth shut with one hand and tickled her chin furiously ‘Got to get the giggles going! Bitch! Goodbye!’ She allowed Emma to open her mouth who accepted the invitation by laughing like mad. The automated tickle effect of the device Melrose had created was working unstoppably. Melrose walked over to the door, dragging a stool with her. She exited the room and Emma heard her press the stool up against the handle and jam it down, so the handle would have to be broken to enter the room. Melrose shouted the inevitable ‘As long as it takes!’ and then a few footsteps. She was laughing out loud quite raggedly by now. She then heard something she did not predict. A ‘thwack’ punching sound, and then a body slumping to the floor. Who was it? Melrose? Alison? Someone Else? She heard a few more footsteps, and the door handle began to turn……..

  2. #2
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    i dont have anything negative to say. its very good and well written. hope you continue this story. i liked it very much.

    isabeau
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  3. #3
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    Very nice story, pfromptown.
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  4. #4
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    outstanding

  5. #5
    Well thank you very much guys. Like I say I've only been a ticklephile (or fully admitting one) for about a year now and wrote another before which sucked a bit. I started writing this a few months ago and kept coming back to it and I'd like to think it's a decent result. The woman that Emma is based on is so sexy in real life and is dead ticklish too! If I get any requests I'll continue on it but not just for the sake of it.

  6. #6
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    well i for one would love to see some more of this story so i guess i'm requesting. if and when you have time that is. it was really good and very well written.

    isabeau
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  7. #7

    Thumbs up Killer Story

    It kicked ass. I love a good foot tickling story. I guess all I would request is some upper body tickling and more-defined laughter. Other than that, I would say that it is some superb writing. Please bring us more.
    An outcast among outcasts...

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  8. #8

    Thumbs up Nice work...

    Great story. You've obviously been learning and improving from you earlier effort. Keep up the good work.

  9. #9
    Hey pfromp, just read this one and wow, fantastic...I liked the set-up with the ler being an 'evil' pedicurist angry over the loss of her job due to the lee very good revenge scenario, and you can definitely write long tickling scenes with a lot of different types of tools, reactions etc. without running out of ideas, something I always have trouble with when writing tickling scenes... very very nice, you should write more stories
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  10. #10
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    Great story. Hope we some more of your work.
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  11. #11
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    Thumbs up Kewl!

    Great story, P.
    Who will be revealed when the door swings open? Will it be Emma's rescuer, or more ticklish torment (Whadda ya think?) Heh heh heh.
    By all means, please write more!
    Mastertank1

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    It ain't that I'm wiser, it's only that I've spent more time with my back to the wall,
    so I picked up a couple more years on ya' babe, an' that's all." (Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show)

  12. #12
    uhh i love these kinds of stories, but definitly need to include some good upperbody tickling, with the same teasing and baby talk that you included in this one, a long with more light tickling from the teachers nails. Just have the teacher tickle emmas belly lol....thats what i want.

  13. #13
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    I have said before I am not a fan of the torture scenario, but this is damn good.
    "This train has got one station, Acts 2:38 Salvation, this train has got one station, this train."

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