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Hi boys and girls!
Many of you know me, and many of you do not. I have caused more than one argument on this wonderful website of ours and I'm sure I'll cause more. I have a lot of fans, and I have a lot of enemies, and that's okay, all part of the business! I've been doing a lot of thinking though and while I may or may not agree with certain people's philosophies regarding marketing, advertising, and writing in general, I do feel as though I owe something to this tickling community which has been so good to me. So to that end, I've decided to share with all of you lovely people one of my most popular short stories, "Detention With the Torturing Teachers!" If you like it (which I'm sure you will
🙂 🙂 ) check out my other works, all on Amazon, under Vivian Love
🙂
Now, without further ado, I present to you a story about a man in high school who has his fetish discovered by two teachers, and suffers the consequences
😉 Hold on tight lovelies! It's a punishing one!
🙂
Matthew’s school day started off the same as any other. After all, not a lot of exciting things happen in high school. A smarter than average student, Matthew found himself bored with the school work, all except his extra curricular activities, art and drama. Little did he know that the day would end unlike any day he’s had in his life.
It began in Art Class, when Matthew made a decision that at the time, seemed like a bad idea, and later proved to be a very bad idea. He was sitting in front of a computer on the back row, where nobody would be able see his monitor. He had already finished the project they all began at the beginning of class, and a quick glance at the wall mounted clock told him he still had twenty eight minutes of class left. He had to kill the time somehow. Mrs. Smith had a strict no phones policy in class, and even though she was a cute little petite woman with beautiful blue eyes and a bubbly and energetic demeanor, she could still take charge of things when she needed to. Playing with his phone was out of the question.
Matthew sighed and folded his hands underneath his chin. His eyes began drifting around the room, and he watched as his teacher went from table to table, checking on everyone's work. His gaze somehow found itself lower, to her bare calves that showed underneath her flowing dress, and to her feet, such tiny feet, mostly visible due to the open toed sandals she was wearing. Her toes were painted bright blue, and while that was a color not a lot of women could pull off, Mrs. Smith made it look good. She had perfectly shaped little feet, and Matthew caught himself staring at them and could feel an erection coming on. That’s when he opened an internet browser.
Matthew was young, having only turned 18 a couple months ago, but he had had a tickling fetish for as long as he could remember. He Googled “tickle torture” and browsed around, looking at various pictures of people being tickled. After scrolling through several, he typed in “male tickle torture,” and got rock hard when he came across a photo of a completely naked man, restrained on his back with leather straps around his ankles and wrists to a torture rack of some kind. A woman stood at his head, tickling his underarms with long red fingernails. Another woman was bent on her knees, tickling each of his bare feet with her equally long, but black fingernails. The expression on the man's face was something between laughter and a scream.
Matthew instantly became hard. He glanced to the left and right, making sure nobody had snuck up on him. He really wanted to watch a tickling video, but knew that would be taking it way too far. He reminded himself to delete the browsing history on the computer before he left. He shifted in his seat until his erection went more comfortably down the side of his tan khakis, and clicked through several more pictures. He came to one in which a naked older woman was tickling a young restrained mans cock with a feather, and really wished he could touch himself here. He was so involved in looking at the pictures that he didn’t even notice-
“Matthew, how are you doing over here?” Matt practically jumped out of his seat as he clumsily fumbled to close the browser and pull back up his project.
“Uh- fine, great Mrs. Smith.” She had been a few steps away from him when she startled him, and Matthew didn’t think she had seen what was on the screen, but his face was bright red and his heart was racing a million miles a minute. She leaned over his shoulder to look at what he had for his graphic design project. She nodded in approval, and looked at Matthew, who had the look of a deer caught in the headlights.
She frowned, and crossed her arms across her chest. “Everything okay Matt?”
“Yeah, absolutely. Everything’s great.”
“You seem a little jittery,” she said after a short pause.
“Oh uh, I guess you just startled me is all.” Matthew punctuated this with a weak laugh.
“Hm, well sorry if I did.”
“No worries Mrs. Smith.” She considered him a moment longer, then moved on. Matthew let out a sigh of relief and rested his hands, which were shaking from being startled, in his lap. His erection had gone and he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to look at tickle torture porn on a school computer. Never again, he told himself. At that moment the bell rang and Matthew, eager to get out of there, slung his backpack over his shoulder and left, taking a wide route around Mrs. Smith so he didn’t have to see her on his way out. As soon as he passed the threshold of the door, he felt like a prisoner who had just escaped Alcatraz, and halfway to his next class, he had already put his close call out of his mind. He didn’t even realize that he forgot to clear his browsing history.
Mrs. Smith scanned the teachers lounge, eyed Mrs. Terew, the drama teacher, sitting at the table eating a sandwich, and took the seat across from her.
“I need some advice,” she said bluntly. Mrs. Terew chewed the chunk of sandwich in her mouth, swallowed, and asked “everything okay.”
“Yeah everything’s fine, I just have a really bizarre scenario on my hands and I figured you’d be the one to talk to, since you’ve seen it all in the thirty some odd years you’ve taught at this school.
Mrs. Terew raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “I’m listening.” Mrs. Smith placed her hands facedown on the table, as if it were an interrogation.
“Okay, so you know Matthew right? I think he’s in your fifth period?”
“I do.”
“So I caught him looking at some inappropriate stuff on the computer in my classroom today.”
“Oh? What did you tell him?”
“Nothing yet. I didn’t catch him in the act, but he was acting strange, so after class let out I thought I’d better check the browser history, and let’s just say he was looking at some very inappropriate things.” Mrs. Smith brushed a lock of hair out of her face.
“Porn?”
“No. Well yes. I don’t know. That’s the thing.”
“You lost me there darling.”
“From what I could tell, he was looking at… tickling pictures.” Mrs. Terew scooted forward in her chair and propped her chin on her interlaced knuckles.
“Tickling? What do you mean by tickling?”
“Literally tickling. Like guys and girls tied up in extremely tight positions and tickled by other guys or girls.” Mrs. Terew seemed to contemplate this, and asked if they were naked or not.
Mrs. Smith shrugged. “In a lot of them. Not all of them though. It was really weird to look at.”
“Yeah… sounds like it. I’m guessing it’s some kind of fetish thing?” Mrs. Terew offered.
“That’s what I’m guessing. I just don’t know how to handle this. Do I let it go? Call his parents? Talk to him about it? Oh god this is so embarrassing.” Mrs. Smith buried her face in her palms as if she was the one who was caught looking at pornographic pictures on a school computer.
“Yes… that would be an awkward conversation to have with him or his parents…” Mrs. Terew mused. “I guess as long as you make sure he doesn’t do it again… it’s not that big of a deal.”
Mrs. Smith raised her face from her palms. “I guess. How do I make sure he doesn’t ever do it again though?” Mrs. Terew thought about this, and came up with nothing. Then she laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Too bad you can’t turn his fetish against him and tickle him until he promises not to do it again.” This got an awkward laugh from Mrs. Smith. “You know what, that’s not a bad idea…” she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.”
“Come again?”
“Well I have to punish him somehow. Aside from his little computer activities, he is in need of an attitude adjustment. Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re talking about tickle torturing a student of yours. Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“Hey I’m an art teacher. We have a flare for the dramatic.” She shot Mrs. Terew a shrewd wink, and she responded by shaking her head.
“You don’t have to tell me. I’m a drama teacher. If anyone has a flare for the dramatic, it’s us.”
“So how about it? Want to help me with this devilish plan of mine? Think about it. Turning a young boys fetish into a punishment. And he wouldn’t tell anyone because there’s no way anyone would believe it, and even if he did, we could throw him under the bus by proving that he was looking at porn on a school computer.”
Mrs. Terew considered this. “I’m 52 years old, and I can honestly say that is something I’ve never done before… I’ll admit though, it’s fun to think about.”
Mrs. Smith’s bubbly and energetic personality took over. “Let’s do it then! You’ve still got him in class later today don’t you?”
“Yes. In about an hour and a half.”
“Hehe. Find a reason to give him detention.”
Mrs. Terew gave Mrs. Smith a look of pure insanity. “You’re joking right?” Mrs. Smith was about to answer, but before she did, her big blue eyes lit up as if a light bulb had been clicked on over her head. She enthusiastically reached across the table and placed her hand on Mrs. Terew’s arm. “You still have that old medieval looking stock set from that play of yours last semester right? The ones that lock around the ankles and shackle the wrists high above the person's head?”
“Oh I don’t like where this is going.”
Mrs. Smith laughed out loud. “I think I have an idea.”
The final bell rang for the day, and all the students clamored to escape the prison that was high school for another day. Matthew would have loved to join him, but he had shockingly been given detention by his drama teacher, supposedly for talking while she was talking. Mrs.Terew was a strict teacher, but he had never seen her dole out a detention for something so insignificant. He didn’t have much of a choice though.
Matthew opened the double doors to the auditorium, empty at this hour, and the echo of the doors closing reverberated throughout the massive room. As one naturally does in an auditorium, he made his way down to the stage. He heard the sound of heels clacking on the wooden stage, and Mrs. Terew came out on the stage. Matthew though it odd that there was a torturous looking stock in the middle of the stage, but he didn’t give it much thought. He would learn fairly soon though that he should have.
“Hello Matthew,” Mrs. Terew said in a perfunctory matter of fact voice.
“Hi Mrs. Terew…” Matthew didn’t know why, but he was starting to get an odd feeling about all this. She looked at her wristwatch. “So I’ve got you for… one hour it looks like.” She looked at Matthew as if she expected a response from him, and he gave none. “I figure I might as well put you to good use while I’ve got you here in detention. Come up here on stage will you?” Matthew hesitated a moment, and then did as he was asked.
Mrs. Terew watched him as he approached the stocks, and found it surprisingly interesting that she was so amused by his obvious confusion. “I’ve got a play coming up in a month or two, an adaptation of King Arthur, and there’s a scene in which I need to use these stocks. I haven’t used them in quite a while, so I need your help to make sure they’re still in working condition.”
“Uh… okay…” Matthew eyes the stocks suspiciously. It certainly looked intimidating enough. A long piece of hardwood served as the bench that the victim sat on, with their legs straight out in front of them and secured by the ankle through heavy oak stocks. There was nothing for the victim to lean their back against, but at the back of the bench a vertical board rose about three feet up, before extending forward and holding a pair of wrist shackles.
“Have a seat for me Matthew.” The authority in her voice was unmistakable, and Matthew could do nothing but comply. He awkwardly sat on the bench, gaining his balance, stretched his legs forward, and placed them in the half moon crevices created by the bottom half of the stock. Without a word, Mrs. Terew swung the top half of the stocks down, locking his ankles in securely.
“This is a weird detention,” Matthew said, with an attempt at humor that fell flat. He knew something wasn’t quite right here, but couldn’t place his finger on it. And besides, it’s not as if he could argue with his teacher one way or the other.
“Arms up.” Mrs. Terew commanded. Matthew squirmed on the bench and eyed her suspiciously. “Oh don’t be so nervous. I just need to make sure this device is still strong enough to hold someone in for the play. I don’t want it breaking in the middle of a scene.” This explanation seemed plausible enough for Matthew, so he did as he was told, and raised his arms straight above his head. Mrs. Terew aggressively took each one and locked them in the black metal shackles. The position was quite stressful, and Matthew found that it was difficult to breathe like this.
“There now. How’s that feel?”
“Pretty secure I guess,” Matthew eked out. “Can you let me out now?” Mrs. Terew gave Matthew a devilish smile that he couldn’t read but knew he didn’t like. “Not quite yet,” was her only response. Matthew hear the silence of the large auditorium broken by the sound of a heavy door opening and closing. He jerked his head to the right, and saw as his art teacher, Mrs. Smith, entered stage right. Matthew did not like where this was going. Mrs. Smith dove right in.
“So Matthew, we have a little problem.” She stood beside Matthew, and ran an index finger up and down his vertical forearm. He started to squirm.
“Uh… what’s the problem Mrs. Smith?” he asked, voice thick with nervousness.
“I think you know what the problem is. Why don’t you tell me?” Matthew couldn’t be sure but it sounded as if there was a hint of teasing and playfulness in her voice. He said nothing, and Mrs. Smith prompted him.
“You were having quite a bit of fun in my class today weren’t you?” She asked. Mrs. Terew had walked to the other side of the stocks, and Matthew was aware now that two of his teachers flanked either side of him and he was all chained up with nowhere to go.
“Oh no…” was all he could mutter.
“So what’s the deal with this whole tickling thing?” She asked, still tracing her fingernail along his arm, from the armpit all the way to his wrist.
Goosebumps began to form all along Matthew’s body. “I’m sorry Mrs. Smith, I know it was stupid and I won’t do it again I swear.” He didn’t even try to explain his fetish. He immediately went into begging mode.
“Oh I’m sure you won’t,” this from Mrs. Terew, who followed Mrs. Smith’s lead and began tracing her finger up and down his other arm.
“We’ll make sure of that. You see, I thought about telling your parents, which is the normal thing to do when a teacher finds a student looking at porn at school, but I figured that would be a very awkward conversation to have…”
Mrs. Terew picked up where she trailed off. “But she couldn’t just pretend like nothing happened either….” Matthews head jerked from left to right like a ping pong ball as the teachers traded off.
“So we came up with what we think to be the perfect solution…”
“To ensure you’ll never do anything like that again, we’re going to turn your fantasy…”
“Into your punishment.” The two teachers smiled at each other and Matthew knew immediately he was screwed. As if they had practiced it thousands of times before, Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Terew dug into his armpits with their fingers at the exact same time, and Matthew burst out into laughter.
“Wait! Sto- Haha- what the- hahaha!” He began to thrash around on the bench, but the device was incredibly strong, and he couldn’t even shake it. The two teachers dug deeper into his armpits, and Matthew felt as though they were skipping the skin and tickling his nerves directly. He laughed and screamed louder and louder, but the two teachers didn’t stop.
“What’s the matter Matthew?” Mrs. Smith teased in her young and flirty voice. “I thought you liked tickling!” Matthew couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. He was busy trying to catch his breath between shrieks of laughter and screaming.
Mrs. Terew moved from his underarms to his ribs, and Matthew thought he was going to pass out already. “Ohhh, his sides are really ticklish Mrs. Smith!” she said, joining in the verbal teasing.
“Yeah? Let me see!” She took both of her hands and squeezed his sides, prompting more insane bouts of laughter from her poor victim. “Huh! You’re right!” Without even thinking about it, she lifted his tee shirt until it was tight around his chest, exposing his bare stomach.
“Good idea,” Mrs. Terew said in her strangely professional voice. “I’ll bet he’s far more ticklish on his bare skin.” As if that was the cue they had been waiting for, they both dug into his sides again with their fingers, probing the soft spots between his ribs, moving up and down, searching for the sweet spots that would elicit the most unwanted laughter from poor Matthew.
“Please! Ple- plea- sto- stop it! Ahahaha!” Matthew was able to get out between gasps of air. He bucked and thrashed around as the two teachers moved to the front of his belly, using their fingernails to glide over the surface of his stomach. He tried sucking in his stomach to escape the torture, but of course that did nothing.
“See if his belly button is ticklish,” Mrs. Terew told Mrs. Smith, as if she were her instructor. Mrs. Smith giggled and drove her finger into his deep belly button, and to Matthew it was like hitting the bullseye on his ticklish body. He bucked forward so hard his torturers thought for a minute the shackles might break, but they held steady.
“No no no no no! Hahaha stop!!!” Matthew pleaded. While Mrs. Smith worked his bellybutton, Mrs. Terew adjusted her position so she could tickle both of his sides. The four hands on his upper body were pure torture, and Matthew thought he might pass out. It was warm in the auditorium, and Matthew was beginning to sweat. He watched helplessly as his two teachers, the young Mrs. Smith and the older Mrs. Terew, tickled his stomach and sides. Mrs. Smith had a huge grin on her face, clearly enjoying this, while Mrs. Terew’s face was set in stone, no grin, no laughing, just business. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, but in reality was no more than five minutes, the two teachers relented.
Matthew’s head slumped to his shoulder, and he gasped for air as if it were his first time drawing breath. His shoulders ached, his entire body was covered in sweat, and it was hard to breathe.
“Please… let me out now… I promise I won’t be any trouble anymore.” His two teachers eyes him devilishly and said nothing. Eventually, Mrs. Terew turned to look at Mrs. Smith.
“Mrs. Smith, why don’t you grab your art bag with all your brushes?” Mrs. Smith giggled again, and bounced to her feet.
“Oh no…” Matthew muttered hopelessly. He watched as his art teacher came back into view, carrying a large zipper bag. She unzipped it and dumped a number of implements on the floor. She made a show of looking them all over before she picked up a stiff looking paint brush. Mrs. Terew raised her eyebrows in anticipation. “Good choice.”
Mrs. Smith raised the brush and waved it in front of Matthew, teasing him with it. She pretended to dive into his belly with it, only to veer off at the last second, and Matthew couldn’t take the tormenting. Without warning she began dragging the brush across the surface of his stomach, clearly avoiding his belly button. The sensation was torturous, but nothing as bad as when they were digging their fingers into him. This was a more cringe inducing tickle torture, but it was still torture. Mrs. Terew simply watched with sadistic pleasure while Mrs. Smith became more and more comfortable with the brush. She removed the brush from his sensitive skin, and made eye contact with him. He looked into her piercing blue eyes. She smiled and winked, and drove the paint brush directly into his belly button. At the exact same time, Mrs. Terew resumed tickling his sides, and Matthew screamed louder than he thought possible.
“No!! Let me- let- haha- let me- let me GO!” Mrs. Smith was now laughing just as hard as Matthew was, clearly having the time of her life. She twisted the brush in his bellybutton, poking hard, spinning it against the sides, working every angle possible.
“Well well, look at what we have here…” Mrs. Terew said, and Mrs. Smith followed her gaze down to where Matthew was exhibiting a rock hard erection, visible through his khakis.
“Hey now!” Mrs. Smith said, and gave him a slap on the thigh. “This is supposed to be torture! Not fun!” she finished teasingly.
“We’ll just have to make it… not fun anymore,” Mrs. Terew said, and unbuckled his belt. She pulled his pants and briefs down, and his hard member shot straight up towards the ceiling like a beacon. Mrs. Terew appraised the assortment of torture devices on the floor, and settled on a fine tipped paint brush. Mrs. Smith watched with eager anticipation as Mrs. Terew slowly placed the very tip of the brush on the underside of his cock, right above his ball sack. She slowly dragged it up the length of his member, and teased his head with it. Matthew shrieked and tried to jerk away. He had no idea his penis was so ticklish.
“Not so fun now is it?” Mrs. Smith teased, poking him in the sides. Mrs. Terew’s face remained impassive as she explored every inch of his cock with the brush, and Matthew clenched his fists and toes, trying to cope with the overwhelming sensations going through his body.
“Don’t let him cum,” Mrs. Smith said. “This is detention remember?”
“Oh I’m not. I don’t want to have to clean up a big mess of jizz anyways,” Mrs. Terew responded matter of factly. “Grab that other brush there and give me a hand here,” Mrs. Terew said, and Mrs. Smith picked up another stiff paint brush while laughing. Without having to be told, she started working the brush on his ball sack, which was now bunched closely to his body.
“Please stop, please stop, please STOP!” Matthew begged, sure he could take no more sensitive torture. The two teachers ignored him though, and continued tickling his cock with their brushes.
“Coochie coochie coo…” Mrs. Smith teased, and then laughed. Mrs. Terew glanced at her wristwatch. “We only have about ten minutes left Mrs. Smith.” Matthew sighed in relief, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
“So I guess we really need to crank it up a notch then huh?” Mrs. Smith said. Mrs. Terew responded with a mischievous smile and picked up what looked to Matthew like a bottle of baby oil.
“We use this on stage to contrast the harsh lights during a play,” Mrs. Terew told Matthew, as if it were a casual conversation and he wasn’t shackled in a torture rack.
“We’re only speculating here,” Mrs. Smith started, “but we have a feeling that it would make your skin far more sensitive, and therefore, more ticklish.”
“Oh no… please don’t…” Matthew pleaded. The two teachers exchanged devilish looks, and Mrs. Terew arced the bottle over his bare belly, letting it fall all over him. It was surprisingly cold, and Matthew jerked involuntarily.
“That’s a good sign,” said Mrs. Smith. She propped herself up on her knees and began rubbing in the oil with her hands. They were right, it did make him far more ticklish. Just the act of her rubbing it into his sensitive stomach with her palms sent electricity bolting through his body.
“Ready…?” Mrs. Smith teased. Mrs. Terew got into position on her knees, still on the other side of their victim. “One...two…,” she started.
“Three!” They both dug into his shiny and oily belly, and Matthew shrieked with laughter.
“No!! STOP!! HAHAHAHAHA!! I can’t!! I CAN’T take it! Hahahaha!!” Their twenty fingers danced around the surface of his belly, taking turns at his belly button, sometimes moving a hand down to tickle his still exposed erection.
“Are you going to be any more trouble for us Matthew?” Mrs. Smith asked, digging her fingernails in between his ribs.
“Ahaha- no! No! No! I promise!”
“You swear?!”
“I swear!”
“Are you going to pull up tickle torture porn on the computers anymore?”
“Ahahaha!! No! No! Please! Stop! Hahahaa! No!!!”
“If you do, we’ll be right back here again,” Mrs. Terew added in, using her fingernails to tickle the underside of his penis.
“I won’t!! I won’t! Hahaha! Stop!!”
“I think he’s had enough,” Mrs. Terew said. Mrs. Smith playfully said “awww…. Okay I guess you’re right.” Finally, the punishment stopped. Matthew could do nothing but sit there, arms stretched out, shoulders on fire, breathing hard, covered in sweat and baby oil, wrecked. They went to work unshackling him, but Matthew still just sat there. With nothing more to say to him, the two teachers turned to leave. On the way out Matthew heard Mrs. Smith say, “That was a lot of fun. We should do more detentions like that.” The sound of Mrs. Terew’s sadistic laughter echoed throughout the auditorium.
The End.
