The taming of the arrogant French lecturer (F/M) - Part three

[Solesbrusher]

— Well, well, well, boys and girls. I think it's time for me to reclaim my dear loser his forfeit.
I was more than embarrassed, now I'd understood what Susanna had been planning for a long time.
— So, my friends, have you got any idea of what I could put our dear assistant through?
— Get him more, Susanna, one of her female mates said. Yeah, tickle him more : he's so funny when tickled...
— In any case, much more than he is at university, Susanna said, making the attendance laugh.
— Wait a minute, I said. How could things be different? An assistant is not supposed to play the clown, particularly when he works as a foreign assistant in a famous university. This was not arrogance nor scorn.
— I believe you, dear assistant. We eventually understood that. Though, you often appeared strict, coldly cartesian, strung-up. That's why we'd been hoping to see a more relaxed, funnier, younger, maybe more childish side of your character. And, well, this charming side of yours has just let it show, in this evening. Though, I still feel frustrated, because we couldn't see enough of it...
Then, making her hands come close to my feet, and moving all her fingers as if she was about to tickle me again, she added :
— Sara's right You're so cute when tickled. I could barely see you laugh and squirm : our test of will did not allow it. Now, I'd reeeally love to see the austere french assistant brought back to a ticklish little boy.
— No, no, no. No more tickling, please. I can't take it.
— Hey, boys and girls, did you hear that? The arrogant french language assistant is begging : "Don't tickle me more, please! I can't take it." Such an incredible thing! Tss! Tss! Tss! Be a nice boy, and be sincere : I know you love it. First, you seem to be a foot fetishist. Do you think we didn't pay attention to the way you looked at female students' feet? Second, do you think we couldn't see your embarrassment the day I brought the conversation on the topic of tickling? Third, last but not least, I've been reported by a master degree student you don't know — but who knows who you are — that he once saw you watching an issue of a magazine called Tied and Tickled in an erotic bookstore in Soho.
— True. Then what? What's the problem with it?
— Well, there's no problem. There'd rather be solutions to something we all were curious to know about you. Tss! Tss! Tss! How surprising from such a serious-minded intellectual! Hey! Mr French-serious-guy is unmasked. Sooo, is that true you loove girls' feet? Do you love to coochie-coo girls' ticklish little tootsies?
— I... I happen to tickle women. Yes, that's true : nothing criminal about it. We all have our own fantasies and sexual turn-on. And this one is the least harmful one can conceive.
— Yes, "nothing criminal", as you said. So, there's nothing criminal about you getting tickled too. Look at these big ticklish feet in nylon socks, my friends. Do you think they really got tickled enough?
— No! No! Definitely not! everybody shouted.
I immediately tried to argue :
— Well, students, this is going too far, you're taking the wrong way : the game is over. You wanted to tease me : you succeeded. Now I think I should go.
— You're not going anywhere, Susanna said in a loud threatening voice. You say we all have our own fantasies : I've got mine tonight, and I'm sure these boys and girls around share the same. Get him, mates, and pin him down on the floor!
Then, before I was able to escape, all of the eight students attacked me. The two strong rugby players raised me out of the sofa I sat in.
— Lay him flat on the carpet, boys. Ian, bring his arms behind his head and hold him. Steve, sit astride on his waist. Sara, the veery strong karate player, will manage to hold his legs still by sitting on his ankles. I'll be watching you with the highest interest.

Though I tried to fight violently, I was soon pinned down on the carpet, on my back, completely unable to move. I was petrified. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. In recent dreams, I had fantasized about Susanna tickling me, but I'd never imagined finding myself about to get gangtickled by eight of my students. So, this was not exactly the same situation.
— Well, well, well, Susanna said, as soon as I was completely pinned down on the floor. Do you know what it means getting mercilessly tickled by six wild avenging girls? No, you certainly don't. We're gonna make you experiment how it feels. Sara and I will take good care of your ticklish tender soles. Debbie, Margaret, Jane, Esther, you should try to know if his upperbody's as ticklish as his soles.
I cried out loud for mercy, pathetically trying to struggle.
— He cries for mercyyy... Can you hear that, girls? Susanna teased, hilarious. He's gonna call his mummy for help in a while. Make sure we'll show no mercy, now that we get you. Now, here are the rules of this brand new game : you gave us marks throughout the year, we're gonna give your ticklishness some marks, one area after another. Put a cushion behind his head, so that he'll feel more comfortable. Now, girls, tickle his ribs first.

The four wild girls unbuttoned my shirt and drew it open, so as to straight tickle my skin. Then, they went on tickling my ribcage, first with light strokes, then with harder ones, digging their fingers into my ribs. Though this is not my worst ticklish spot, these devilish furies soon got intense reactions from me, as their forty fingers began to move faster and dig deeper.
— Eeh eh eh! Aah ah ah! Stop it! I'll do anything you want.
Susanna, comfortably sitting in the sofa, controlled the operations and kept on teasing me :
— Say "I'm an arrogant French assistant". Say it! I wanna hear these words clearly.
However, I couldn't articulate a single word, dying with laughter.
— I didn't hear anything. Debbie, Jane, get his armpits now.
As my armpits are one of my worst spots, the torture soon became unbearable.
— No! Not the armpits, not the armpiits!!
— Oo, ooo! I think we get a new veeeery interesting spot. Go on, girls, drive him nuts! Will you tell us your secret, "Monsieur François Ier"?
— I can't take it! I can't take it!
Debbie, who'd sat astride on my arms, behind my head, went on slowly doing spider tickling, from the back of my arms to the armpits, while Jane, who'd sat aside, sadistically dug a finger into each one, looking for the worst spot to be found.
— Nooo oh oh! Not there! I'm dying!
— Hear him! Debbie said. He's ridiculously ticklish on his armpits and on the back of his arms.
As I'd never been restrained and tickled this way during several minutes, I couldn't imagine what the hell of a torture such a treatment was.
— He's screaming like a baby, Susanna teased. Cry, baby, cry. Your mummy won't come for help.

I had gone crazy. Though unable to identify every stimulation my tormentors put me through, as far as I can remember, Susanna now gently played with the soles of my feet, caressing them in an irritating way, while the others got my upperbody. I was going berzerk, getting tickled on armpits and ribs in the same time by these forty unescapable fingers, sometimes poking here and there, sometimes digging, sometimes lightly grazing my skin. I couldn't but beg:
— Stop it! Stop it! Pleeeease!
— Well, well, well, Susanna said. I think it's time for belly tickling, girls. Our dear assistant has deserved a good raspberries treatment. Oh! Debbie and Jane, you should pay attention to his neck and ears too.
So, Margaret and Esther began to give my tummy long raspberries, while the two others teased me with a crual "coochie coochie coo" tickling all around my neck and ears.
— Not there! Not theeeere!!!!
— Say "I'm an arrogant French assistant", Susanna asked again. Say it! I wanna hear these words clearly.
— Eeeee e ee! Eeeee e ee! No more, no mooore!!!
— Well, well, well, Margaret said sarcastic. He's also pretty ticklish on his tummy. Let's have a go at his waist and bellybutton, Esther.
The slow and soft strokes they gave my skin with their fingernails were devastating. In fact, the girls were being unveiling many ticklish spots I hardly had guessed.
— I find it really funny the way he giggles and struggles, one of the boys said.
— Give me a break! Give me a breeeeak!!!!

But no one paid attention to my beggings. The tickling had now become crazy, as the four female ticklers sat around my upperbody and tickled the whole of it, two of them continuously poking the armpits and the ribs, the two others lightly coochiecooing my belly. And now, even Steve, the strong rugby player had a go at tickling my lower tummy, my hips, my groin area with both thumbs while sitting astride on my thighs. The permanent teasing efficiently added to the torture:
— Ooo! Ticklish little froggie! He's soo cute!
— Waaah ah ah! Pleeeease!!!!
— I think he's faking : he's not that ticklish : tickle him more!
— No more, no moooore!!!!
— Caution! You haven't got a good mark yet : just an average one. Maybeee 40-45%... Your ticklishness still has to improve.
— I'll do anything you want, anythiiiing!!!!
— Shouldn't we take pictures of him getting tickled and send them to UCL's President and to his university in France?
— Eee e e! I'm dying! I'm dyiiiing!!!!
The ticklers now hardly held me still on the carpet : I struggled so violently... and so pathetically. I was now submitted to a terrorizing full body tickling, for Susanna and Sara, who probably were too eager to tickle my feet and frustrated not to play a part in the upperbody treatment, had begun to scrape my nyloned soles wildly, driving me insane.
— Not there in the same time! Not the feeeet!!!! Whaah ah ah! Eeeeh eh eh!
— Ok, ok, ok! Susanna finally said. Give him a break.

I was exhausted, blushing, sweating, trying to catch my breath again.
— Please, set me free. Pleease!! I will do, I will say anything you want me to.
— Well, well, well. I'm afraid we haven't finished yet with you, dear assistant. You've been taught a good tickling lesson, but we first have to give your ticklish spots a mark. So, boys and girls, once we admitted his feet were off the charts ticklish, deserving a veeeery good 65-70%, which spots do best?
I was then submitted to a quite teasing long deliberation, still pinned down on the floor.
— Well, well, well, Susanna eventually said. To sum it up : your feet get a preeetty good B-, wheras the armpits get an also veeery good C+. These spots are the worst, definitely. Now, I think your ribs deserve a promising C-, whereas your neck's, your ears', your belly's ticklishness still can improve, and therefore will be given a heartening D+. Is that the way french university does the marking?
— Ok, ok, ok. I said, near to a panic attack. You broke me, you taught me a good lesson. Now the game has lasted long enough. I'm sorry for being so strict in the marking. I didn't intend to dishearten you. Remember : I heightened all your marks, at the end of the first semester.
— That's true, Susanna conceeded. We all appreciated this open-minded decision, or you wouldn't have been given a party tonight. But all you need to know is that we still love so much to see the severe french language assistant in black suit now giggling, begging, screaming like a little boy, letting us show his ticklish delicate feet covered with black nylon semi-stockings. I couldn't have guessed that : the French teacher wears black nylon kneel-high stockings. It's as liberating as reassuring to see such an impressive intellectual revealing his weak points. I learnt from French friends there uesed to be weird rites of initiation at french university; something you call "le bizutage". Well, I think that's the sort of thing you get tonight.
— Ok, ok, ok. I have some sense of humour, but you now have to understand tickling is an unbearable torture to me. Please, set me free.
— Ooo, isn't that cute, mates? This intellectual feels tickling as a torture. Tss! Tss! Tss! Only kids (or teen girls) say such a thing. Wouldn't you exaggerate things, my dear?
— No, I swear it. I've never been tickled by so many persons at a time, and during such a long time. It's really unbearable... and unfair.
— Ooo, listen to that. Poor boy! I had several looks at my watch during this gentle tickle teasing. How long did it last? Do you know that? Twelve poor ridiculous minutes. Don't tell me you can't resist this long : I won't believe you. Twelve poor ridiculous minutes : this only deserves an average C-. I'm sure you still can improve. Where has your super-ego gone? Pouf! Vanished? Well, you'd better find it again, 'cause we're gonna give you a straight twenty minutes tickling now.
— Noo!! Nooo!!! Someone help me! Set me free!
— I'm afraid none of us will show mercy. Here begins the ultimate test of will. Well, I'm gonna be nice and give you a safeword : would the tickling become too unbearable, then you can say "Froggie" and we shall stop.
Everybody laughed at this insidious choice.
— Now, girls, it's time for lower body tickling. Boys, keep him pinned down on the floor, while we work on his legs and feet. I also think it's time for these socks to come off. Let's lay these ticklish tender feet bare, girls. Sara, tie his big toes together with this lace, so that he won't be able to move his feet and escape the tickle treatment.
— No, not that! Not thaaat!!!
— Yes, thaat!! Go on, girls! We have some job to do! Three, two, one...

Then the tickle torture started again. Susanna's brilliant teasing during the break had completely turned me on, provoking astonishing thoughts. Something had happened in my mind, something I now couldn't inhibite. I was beginning to feel like I was Susanna's tickle slave. First ashamed, unwilling to admit the submissive side of my fantasies she'd waken up, I was gradually getting more and more aroused by the devilish set-up she'd sadistically built about me. More relaxed than I previously used to be, though still somehow frightened, I was insidiously surrendering to her will. That's what she was looking for. Though, the worst part of my tickle nightmare was still to come.
— Not there! Not theeeere!!!!
— Ooo, watch this, Esther said. It looks like these knees are another good spot.
As a matter of fact, Esther and Margaret had started tickling my knees, while Jane and Debbie had a go at my thighs.
— Eee eh eh! Eee eh eh! Not there! Not theere!! You're driving me crazy!
— Well, well, well. The back of the knees is very sensitive too, Margaret said.
At the moment, the tickling was irritating, but bearable, as my thighs didn't appear to be that ticklish, as Susanna and Sara were still working on tying together, first my toes with a lace, then my ankles, with a scarf. In the same time, the two boys, who clearly enjoyed helping their female mates torturing me, held me firmly, Steve sadistically moved his fingers like he was about to tickle my ribs and armpits, which he was suddenly and briefly doing from time to time, causing me much more torture than I was already enduring.
— Hey, boys, be nice, Susanna said ironically. Did I allow you to tickle this poor boy again?
— Not the knees, not the knees! Stop it! Stop iiiit!!!!
I was then tickle tortured on my ribs and on my knees at the same time.
— Are you gonna talk? Susanna threatened. Say the word, say it!
— Eee eh eh! Never! I'll never talk. Neveeeer!!!!

— Well, well, well. Nearly three minutes have already gone, and I find him much too comfortable. What about finally tickling his feet, girls?
— Yeeeah!!!! every of them shouted.
Susanna had clearly made me wait for the foot tickling to come, in order to increase my tenseness, for she knew I truly couldn't stand being tickled there.
— Stop the upperbody tickling, boys. I need to investigate further on this poor boy's feet — I wonder if I ever saw such ticklish ones. Well, dear assistant, my friend and I are going to test every single inch of your feet's tender skin now.
— No. Not the feet. Mercy, mercy.
— Tss! This is not the right word : I gave you a safeword. Will you say it? Will you say it?
I'd briefly been disheartened by Susanna's program. Though, I felt so excited with her teasing...
— Never, I'll never say the word.
— Well, that's a good point. I prefer to hear such brave words from you, boy. You can sit down, girls. I want to explore his feet one by one, first. Well, well, well. I need both hands to do that : one for his toes, one for his sole
I was definitely turned on. What Susanna was going to do was the very best way of torturing my feet. I'd already been tickled this way once, while being a camp counselor, and I could remember how efficient this was. So, Susanna sat aside my left foot and started lightly tickling me on the ball, under the toes, on the toes, with her right hand, while so lightly tickling my sole from aside with her left one. The fact that two persons sat astride my body made it impossible for me to watch the torture, so I couldn't but concentrate on my nerves' pain, which soon became unbearable.
— Eeeh eh eh! Eeeh eh eh! Not this way! Not this waaaay!!!!
— Ooo. He's not so easy again, girls. What about the heel?
— Aah ah ah! You're killing me, you're killing meeee!!!!
— Just say the word, boy.
— Never, neveeeer!!!!
— So you have to be a nice boy and bear the tickling.
— How could we wait for the socks to come off for so long? Debbie commented, teasingly. He's got such beautiful peds!
— Yes, he's got beautiful peds, Susanna repeated wildly. And I truly want to tickle the devil out of them. Sara, you're in the right position to tickle his feet's tops and edges. Bring me some help.
This additional torture immediately drove me nuts.
— That's too much! That's too muuuuch!!!!
— Yeah, Sara. Good job! He hates it there!
— I'm dying! I'm dyiiiing!!!!
— Cry, ticklish little baby, cry, Susanna said, in a low voice, while starting scraping my sole from aside with both hands, digging her fingers in the soft tender skin.
— Eee eh eh! Eee eh eh! Stop it! Stop iiiit!!!!
— "Row, row, row the boat, gently down the stream", Susanna sung.

I was in pure agony, couldn't breathe anymore. Susanna, had kneeled down aside my left foot, managed a way through my tied together feet and, firmly holding my left foot with his thumbs, tickled all of my sole with both hands like crazy.
— Say the word, say the word.
— Mercy! Mercy, pleeeease!!!!
— Ooo, didn't he say "more, please"? Debbie teased.
— Nooo!!!!
— Ok, ok, ok. Let's stop it : I was about to forget the inbetween the toes area...
— No, not there, not theeeere!!!!
— Ooo, it's wonderful how one poor finger can be devastating!
— You're killing me, you're killing meeee!!!!
— Well, well, well : that's good news, my friends. This guy is insanely ticklish on his left foot : he won't resist long. What? Thirteen minutes from tiiime? I think I'd better have a go at the right one, now.

Already exhausted, I couldn't believe I was so far from my ordeal's end. How could I resist any longer? In the same time, I kept on feeling turned on by the insane tickle torture Susanna was submitting me to. She'd already broken me : I felt like his ticklish little toy. Now, my right foot was being attacked exactly the same way as she'd did with the left one.
— Ooo! This foot seems to be even more sensitive than the other one. What do you think about it, girls?
— Yeah! He's very ticklish on this one, too, Esther answered.
— No, no, no, no, noooo!!!! Not there, not theere!!
Unfortunately for me, Susanna had found a new terrific spot, right in the middle of the arch, whose tickling was driving me insane. So, she obviously concentrated on it with his right index, while Sara kept on tickling the top and the edges of my feet, much more sensitive than I expected.
— This is torture, this is tortuuuure!!!! Please, mistress, mistreeeess!!!!
— Hey, how did he call me?
Everybody laughed.
— What? The french language lecturer called me "Mistress"? Hey, boy, I didn't expect you to be that submissive...
— Susanna, Susannaaaa!!!!
— So he still can hear me : he must be not so uncomfortable as I hoped. Time for both feet's gangtickling, girls. Enjoy yourselves!
— Nooo! Please, one at a time, one at a tiiiime!!!!

But my beggings were ignored, as four truly wild demons joined Sara and Susanna to tickle the hell out of my soles. I was nearly crying.
— I beg you! I beg youuuu!!!!
Steve and Ian now barely needed to pin me down, as I felt devastated. Sixty devilish fingers were attacking my feet, leaving not a single inch of my skin in peace. I now had surrendered to the tickling, felt like I'd lost my mind : no more super-ego, no more pride, no more defence. Then I burst into liberating tears.
— Stop it! Stoop!! Stooop!!! Stoooop!!!!
— Hey, he's crying, girls! Susanna exclaimed. He's crying! Ooo, my ticklish little boy! Stop the tickling, girls. I wanna hear him say the word.
I was ruined.
— Say the word, say it.
— No, I won't say. Never.
— Ok. So you must be ready for the final chapter... and this will be the worst. What time is it? Hey, seven minutes from time! There's no more to lose, my friends. Steve, you've done a good job. Please, have a rest. Ian, I need you to firmly hold his arms, for I guess he's gonna hate what I'm doing to him. Girls, there are two many of you working on his feet at a time, now. Three will be enough : Sara for the tops, Debbie and Jane for the soles.
— Mercy, Susanna. Please, mercy. I can't take it anymore.
— Shut up, or say the word.
And, saying this, she sat astride my waist.
— Well, his armpits and his feet definitely are his worst spots, aren't they? That's why I want to concentrate on both of these for the few last minutes. Now get his feet more, girls. Drive him insane! Make him beg! I want this ridiculously ticklish little froggie to surrender.

This decision really proved how skillful a torturer Susanna was. As a matter of fact, the best way to break me was to concentrate on my two worst spots, for I didn't have much energy left, was unable to fight. So great was the idea of sitting astride on my waist, just in front of my head, in order to be able to taunt me, to stare at me while tickling my pits.
— Say the word, boy, say the word, my dear "François Ier".
— Eeee eh eh! Never! Neveeeer!!!!
The combination of foot tickling with armpits tickling was excruciating to me, as one could have expected. I was suffocating getting mercilessly tickled on these particularly sensitive areas, one from the upperbody, one from the lower.
— Not there! Not theeere!!! Pleeeease!!!!
— Say the word, my dear. Say the word.
No heavy strokes were needed anymore. Sara, Debbie and Jane had clearly understood light tickling was now the best, as I had no more strength, no more will, no more nerves to fight against the torture.
So, they were slowly running their fingers, making them wander from tops to edges, from heels to toes, from left to right. Even my ankles were now ticklish...
— Eee eh eh! Whaa ah ah! No more on the feet, no more on the feeeet!!!!
— Ooo, we still get good reactions from these beautiful peds, girls, Debbie said.
— We should keep on tickling him there all night long. All night looong, Jane suggested in a low tone. Coochie coochie coo!
— In France, they call it "guili guili", when they tickle children, Steve added. Shouldn't you talk to him this way?
— Yeah, Sara agreed. He's such a ticklish little boy. Guili guili ! Guili guili !
The teasing in french language was something Susanna hadn't experimented yet, but this was a terrific method
— Guili guili ! Sara repeated. Guili guili sous les jolis pieds du petit garçon ! (that means Coochie coochie coo on the little boy's tiny feet).
— No more! No moooore!!!!
My bare feet, now laying on a cushion, were completely exposed and immobilized. Sara, who sat astride my legs, had now brought all of my toes back, so that a better access could be possible to the insanely ticklish undertoes and ball area. In the same time, Susanna, who kept silent — a silence even more impressive than her previous teasing —, was slowly doing a light spider tickling up and down the armpits area. I tried to ask :
— How long... last? How loooong????
— I'm afraid I'm too busy to watch the time, Susanna said with irony.
— I can't... anymoooore!!!!
— Then, say the word, she said, in a voice that was getting lower and lower. Say the word, honey.
— I'm dying! I'm dying! Froggie, froggiiiie!!!!

Then, the tickling stopped. And everyone burst into enthusiastic "hurrah!". Everyone but Susanna:
— Well, you disappoint me, boy. I thought you had more will. What time is it? Ooh! Too bad you surrendered two minutes from time. I think this deserves a pathetic D-, though I must acknowledge your feet's and armpits' ticklishness now deserves a terrific A+.
Then, becoming threatening and wild again, she shouted :
— Five minutes more, girls. I want this coward to pee his pants off, I want him to get tickled to death. To death.
— No! Mercy! Mercy! No more tickling! I yelled at her.
— I'll show no mercy for you tonight, boy. Come on, girls. Scrape the soles of this stupid froggie's dirty feet for me. I want them to be cleaned up!

Then she started wildly digging in my armpits, while her mates were enthusiastically obeying her.
— Noo!! Nooo!!! Noooo!!!! Eeeee eh eh! Eeeee eh eh! Stop the tickling! Stop the tickliiiing!!!!
— So, you think you're a brave man. I'm afraid you aren't. I'm gonna kill you with tickling. I'm gonna kill you!! This is the tickling of your life!
Susanna had now become demented. Regardless of what her mates could think of her — I later learnt some of them had eventually felt uncomfortable with the way she'd acted, though themselves too submitted to her extraordinary mental strength to protest — , she let then show the crual domme in her.
— No more tickling! No more tickling! I can't breathe anymoooore!!!!
— This has become a real tickle rape, girls. I lay this poor guy's ticklishness bare in front of you all.
— Nooo oh oh! Noooo oh oh!
— Watch him giggling!
— Pleeease!!
— Feel the way his ticklish tender soles react to your fingers!
— I can't take it! I can't take iiiit!!!!
— Hear him screaming! Isn't that the greatest excitment one can feel?
— The others help me! Help meeee!!!!

Then I fainted, feeling so near from orgasm as from death, as far as I can remember. When I became conscious, I was lying on the sofa, with nobody around, except Susanna, who kept on slapping my face.
She now seemed quiet, though I still could see a glimpse of sadism through her piercing blue eyes.
— It seems you lost your mind, Susanna. How the hell could you put me through such an ordeal? Where have the other students gone?
— Be quiet, honey. they left us together, to my request. Isn't that what you were dreaming of, as I was tickling the hell out of you?
— I'm an arrogant French assistant, and I deserved to be punished.
— Good. This is a good beginning. I helped you to discover the submissive side that was hidden behind the severe intellectual's shell.
— True.
— Now, you are one day and a half from leaving London, and I'd really love you to be my tickle slave until then. I swear no one will know about it. So, will you be my tickle slave?
— I want to be your tickle slave, mistress.

To be continued.