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A Small Circle of Friends (My Laughing Professor Sequel): Chapter Four (F/F Intense)

ttgore

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Yet another installment…

:jester:

A Small Circle of Friends

by

T.T. Gore

Chapter Four: Undercover Tickle​




Barbara Lorraine trotted up the broad steps of the Administration Building and pushed through its tall glass double doors. Attired as she was in a short black skirt, the dark-haired, curvaceous cutie had attracted more than one lustful glance during her brisk walk across campus. She attracted several more as she shrugged out of her jacket. The top buttons of her snug, sleeveless white blouse were undone, exposing a generous portion of cleavage. Her large, firm breasts jiggled fetchingly as she made her way across the lobby.

Though she had the look and bearing of a typical Unknown University coed, Barbara Lorraine was nothing of the kind. She was, in fact, a detective sergeant with the Racketeering Task Force of the State Police. For months she’d been quietly investigating the goings-on at U.U. Though her captain had poo-pooed the idea, Barbara was convinced that something very odd was happening on campus. Maybe it was drugs, maybe it was something else, but whatever it was, she intended to get to the bottom of it…

Barbara was in her early thirties but could easily pass for a woman ten years younger. To penetrate the suspected conspiracy, she decided to enroll at U.U. as a transfer student from State University. Through her police connections the required paperwork was easily arranged. To avoid the necessity of obtaining fake identity documents she decided to use her own name. Barbara knew from experience that her appearance was the best defense against any suspicion that she might be a cop. Few people bothered to look past the pretty face, the big boobs, the shapely hips and the long legs.

Barbara’s interest in Unknown University dated from her work on the Adrienne DeCarlo case. The disappearance of the beautiful biology professor, and the suspicion that she'd embezzled university funds, had sparked an intensive six-month investigation. No trace of the missing academic was ever found, however. The case, though still officially open, was now classified as “cold.”

Barbara might have let it go at that—but then came the affair of Dean Dagmar Frost’s ignominious and summary dismissal. On the surface it looked like a routine academic sex scandal but Barbara’s instincts told her that behind the scenes, something distinctly odd had occurred. She began keeping closer tabs on the goings-on at dear old U.U.

Dagmar Frost’s replacement by none other than Margaret Stanley reinforced Barbara’s suspicions. She had long since dug up the story of the laughing professor who'd been chased out of her tenured faculty position for “unprofessional conduct,” as the official record so delicately put it. Yet here she was, filling the tart trotters of her now-disgraced nemesis and lording it over the whole campus with all the chutzpah of Xena the Warrior Princess!

Then there was the matter of the disappearance of Robbie Dixon and Darlene Perry. The official theory was that the comely coeds had been abducted and murdered by person or persons unknown—but the official theorists knew nothing of their relationship with Margaret Stanley. Barbara, however, had managed to extract this most interesting bit of information from a Lambda sorority sister who’d been busted for dealing pot. Facing jail time, the silly bimbo had been more than happy to spill her guts.

Thus Barbara learned of the doings at last year’s Lambda-Theta Grudge Party and of the role played that evening by Coach Tanya Johnson. She now had the outline of the nefarious plot by which Margaret Stanley had been brought to grief. There were plenty of holes in the story still, but Barbara knew that she was getting close to the dark central secret that lay behind the smiling, ivy-covered façade of Unknown University.

And from her discussion with the Lambda twerp, she’d garnered a vague hint that the secret might involve a secret sorority venue of some kind. The girl hadn’t known much: “It’s kind of a Lambda Chi legend, you know? About this place where they used to do the initiations and stuff?”

“Have you ever seen this place?” Barbara had demanded.

“No, like I said, it’s just a story and stuff, you know?”

But given the mysterious doings on the U.U. campus, Barbara strongly suspected that it was more than just a lame sorority legend. And then she received an EXTREMELY interesting phone call.

The caller had refused to give her name. “Let’s just say I’m a concerned citizen,” she had said. “I’m told, Sergeant, that you’ve taken an interest in Dean Margaret Stanley.”

“That’s right. But how do you know that?”

“Well, I have my sources,” the mystery caller replied. “Anyhow, perhaps I can help you.” And she then proceeded to relate an amazing tale concerning Lambda Chi’s secret chambers in the subterranean recesses of the Administration Building. “If I were you, Inspector, I’d focus my investigation there.”

“I need more information than that,” Barbara insisted.

“Just check out the Administration Building,” the caller said. “I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. And don’t worry—I’ll be calling you back. Soon. For now, though, I must bid you goodbye.”

“Wait!” Barbara cried. “Just who ARE you—?” But the mystery caller had hung up. The curvaceous cutie hesitated for a couple of days. Could this be a trap of some kind? But in the end she decided that the potential payoff was worth the risk.

Barbara pushed through a door marked STAIRS and headed down. Despite her high heels, she moved swiftly and silently. Soon she found herself in the basement. It was a complex of large rooms with concrete floors and walls, mostly filled with surplus office furniture and boxes full of old records.

“Not very sinister,” she muttered to herself as she searched the basement, using a penlight to illuminate the dark corners. “Maybe that little Lambda ninny was just blowing smoke.” But then her eye fell on a stack of cardboard boxes against the far wall of the last room, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was obvious that the stack of boxes had been moved, and recently. Barbara could see the tell-tale marks on the dirty, dusty floor. In fact, it looked as though someone has pushed the stack back and forth several times. And why would anybody do that? “Because there’s something BEHIND the boxes,” Barbara answered her own unvoiced question. “Bingo!”

It took her only moments to push the stack aside and find the concealed switch that activated the hidden door. It swung open silently, revealing another flight of stairs—ancient concrete stairs, each riser worn in the center by the passage of many feet, that descended into black shadows.

Barbara stood on the top step, listening hard. She heard nothing—no voices, no footsteps, nothing. After a short debate with herself, she decided to risk an immediate peek. Silently, she started down the stairs, flicking the penlight on when the shadows gathered around her too insistently.

The stairs ended at a wooden door, banded with iron and fitted with a heavy iron ring. Barbara grabbed the ring and pulled. The door opened easily. She stepped through and found herself in a most unusual room.

The curvaceous cutie’s eyes widened as she swept the penlight around. The place was equipped like some kind of medieval dungeon! There were stocks, and padded tables with leather straps at each end, and other contraptions that Barbara couldn’t immediately identify. There were rings set into the walls and ceilings, coils of rope in the corners, a rack of slender bamboo rods against one wall. Next to this rack was a large cabinet. Fearfully, Barbara opened its double doors. What she saw made her gasp: feathers—dozens of feathers—along with fine camel’s-hair paintbrushes, toothbrushes, hairbrushes, several letter openers, and various other implements.

“Holy shit!” Barbara breathed, stepping back from the cabinet. “Jackpot!”

She studied her surroundings more carefully now, noting that there was another door into the room, directly opposite the one she’s used. There were light fixtures, too, high on each wall, with switches next to each door. Barbara decided to check where the second door led to. If there were two entrances into this place from the outside, she needed to know.

Cautiously and quietly, Barbara pushed the door open and stepped through. She found herself in another, smaller room, furnished like a dorm lounge with chairs, a sofa, low tables and even a small refrigerator. There were doors in all four walls. The two side ones opened onto dark corridors; the one opposite the door she’d come through led to a flight of stairs. So there WAS a second entrance!

She was just about to head up those stairs when she heard, somewhere above, a door close. Then there were footsteps on the stairs, and the sound of voices. With the quick reflexes of a law-enforcement professional, Barbara faded back through the door and ducked into one of the side corridors. She was just in time. Even as she closed her door, the one leading to the stairs opened again, and someone entered the lounge.

“—no good whining,” a female voice intoned. “You were warned, Emily! Dean Stanley TOLD you to be careful when talking to outsiders. Isn’t that so?”

“But I’m SORRY!” a second female voice responded. Even through the door, Barbara could discern the terror vibrating in the speaker’s voice. “Oh PLEASE Janice! I’ll be GOOD from now on! REALLY I will!”

“You know the rules,” said the voice belonging to Janice. “So you can take your punishment from me, or I can refer this matter to Dean Stanley. It’s your choice.”

“Oh NO!” the Esther-voice cried. “Anything but THAT!”

“Then come on.”

Barbara heard hinges creak and surmised that the two women had exited into the dungeon room. After listening for a moment more she slipped out of the side corridor and tiptoed over to eavesdrop through the door. She heard a rustle of cloth, some whispering, and a couple of grunts. Then the Janice-voice came through clearly: “You just wait here for awhile, dear. I have a couple of errands to run, so relax and spend the time thinking about what’s in store for you when I return. I should be back in an hour.”

That was Barbara’s cue to retreat back into the side corridor. She stayed there until the woman—Janice—passed through the lounge and headed up the stairs. Then the curvaceous cutie ventured out again. Presumably Emily was still around someplace. If so, Barbara figured she could handle her. The woman sounded like a bit of a wimp. She needn’t have worried about it, though, since when she peeped cautiously into the dungeon room a remarkable sight met her eyes.

The lights were on now and Barbara could see clearly. Emily turned out to be an extravagantly sexy and voluptuous blonde bombshell with a face and figure to die for. Barbara could tell this because the woman was naked except for a pair of very skimpy black silk panties. Her lush breasts made even Barbara feel a trifle petite. But that wasn’t the remarkable thing. What really made the curvaceous cutie’s eyes widen was the fact that the woman was locked into a set of stocks!

Emily was seated on a narrow padded bench with her long legs stretched out in front of her and her feet over the edge. The stocks neatly pinned her ankles in place, and her big toes were tied together with a length of narrow scarlet cord. At the other end of the bench was a tall post with a ring fixed to the top. Emily’s wrists had been bound together, then her arms had been hoisted high and her wrists secured to the ring. Finally, a leather strap was cinched snugly around the blonde bombshell’s supple waist.

“What the HELL?!” Barbara exclaimed involuntarily, stepping into the room. “What is going ON here?”

“If you don’t know, you should get out now,” Emily replied in a quavering voice. “Before they get you, too, whoever you are”

“Who’s going to get me?”

“THEY will!” the blonde bombshell shrilled. “Just like they got ME! And they’ll make you their SLAVE—!”

This was getting weirder by the second, Barbara told herself. Aloud she said, “Who? Who’s doing this to you? Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

But Emily shook her head. “No!” she cried. “Oh NO! I’ll never tell! NEVER! If I TELL I’ll be PUNISHED!”

Barbara shook her head in frustration. Here before her was someone whose testimony might expose the dark, decidedly kinky secrets of Unknown University—but she was too frightened to talk! And time was running out! The other woman—Janice—had said she’d be back in an hour.

What to do?

As she considered her options, Barbara found herself gazing at Emily’s bare, wiggling, beautifully shaped feet. The nails, she saw, were painted a deep shade of pink. The tender soles looked exceptionally sensitive. All at once, with a quick mental leap, she connected the blonde bombshell’s talk of “punishment” with the contents of the cabinet. So THAT was it! And perhaps it was also the key to the information that Emily was holding back…

There was a stool against the wall. Barbara placed it at the end of the bench to which Emily was secured, sat down, and crossed her legs. The blonde bombshell’s feet continued to wiggle. Possibly she sensed what was coming.

“Tell me, hon,” said Barbara, examining her well-honed, scarlet-painted fingernails. “Would you happen to be ticklish…?”

Emily gasped and shivered in her bonds. “N-n-n-no!” she stammered.

“Really?” Barbara arched an eyebrow. “Forgive me for saying so but I think you’re lying about that, hon.”

“No, I’m not! I SWEAR!”

“Uh-huh. Well, let’s find out, shall we?” Barbara flexed her slender fingers. “Here’s the deal, hon. I want you to tell me what’s going on here. I want you to tell me who THEY are and what they’re up to. And until you DO tell me, I’m going to tickle your FEET!”

“But I CAN”T tell!” Emily sobbed.

“Your choice,” said Barbara—and with no further ado she leaned forward and applied her sharp nails to the blonde bombshell’s soft soles!

“HIIIIEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Emily shrieked. Her large, luscious breasts bounced and jiggled as she writhed vigorously in response to Barbara’s excruciating caress. “EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEEEEEE!!!”

Barbara was somewhat taken aback by the volume of her victim’s screams and the violence of her struggles. Poor Emily’s face was wrenched into a grimace of anguished hilarity. Her belly rippled and convulsed with the effort of forcing out howl after howl of insane, gut-wrenching laughter. Fleetingly, the curvaceous cutie wondered if the dungeon room was soundproofed. But she was becoming far too involved in the process of tickling the blonde bombshell’s trapped feet to give this question serious consideration.

The truth was that Barbara had long harbored a streak of dominant lesbianism. Such a preference could be injurious to one’s career in law enforcement, so she was careful to keep it well concealed. It was mostly in her solitary midnight masturbation fantasies that Barbara let herself go. But strange to say, she had never considered the erotic possibilities of tickling…

“BWAAAAAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” Emily bellowed. “HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAA-AAAAH-HAA-HAAAAAA!!!”

“Ready to TALK to me, hon?” With one hand, Barbara was gripping Emily’s tied-together big toes. With the other she was stroking the balls of her victim's immobilized feet. “I’m not going to STOP this until you tell me what I want to KNOW!”

“OH-HO!!! OH-NO-HO-HO!!!” Emily responded, shaking her head. “OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HOOOOOO!!!”

“Your choice.” Barbara licked her lips. “I guess you just LIKE being tickled and tickled and TICKLED!”

“YEEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!” the blonde bombshell screeched wildly as Barbara’s keen, clever nails traced the line of her arches. “HIIIIEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”

“Tickle, tickle, TICKLE!” Barbara sang. “Come on, you big-breasted DORK! TALK to me!”

But Emily only shook her head and laughed. And laughed. And LAUGHED—!

The curvaceous cutie would have been quite happy to carry on tickling—but she knew that time was passing. The other woman would be back soon and it wouldn’t be a good idea to be discovered here. Barbara suspected that if THEY—whoever THEY were— realized that she was on the trail of their secret, she’d find herself taking Emily’s place in the stocks…

It was time, unfortunately, to go.

After one last vicious bout of foot tickling that left the blonde bombshell limp, sweating and barely conscious, Barbara stood and glanced around the room. Emily's clothes and purse were on one of the other tables. With swift strides she crossed the room, grabbed the purse and rooted around in it. She soon found a university ID card. The blonde bombshell was Ms. Emily Lawrence, Administrative Assistant to the Board of Regents.

“Do tell,” Barbara whispered. “Well, Ms. Lawrence, until we meet again…”

She trotted back to her new playmate and gave her a peck on the cheek. Then, conscious of a warm, loose feeling low in her belly, Barbara hurried through the door by which she’d originally entered, closing it carefully behind her.


(To Be Continued!)​
 
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