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Old 07-21-2013, 11:15 PM   #1
Paul Jones
TTC|Junior Member

Smile >>> MF Story: Teacher’s Feet in Stocks

Assisted by several other boys, Paul had succeeded in removing Miss Harris‘s shoes
and stockings, while tying her to a padded table. Then he locked her feet in an unusual
set of stocks.

She couldn’t move or turn her feet so much as a centimeter in any direction. Even her
toes were completely immobilized. But her soles and toes were fully exposed.

“Oh, please, this is so embarrassing,” she said. “It’s supposed to be, you Wicked
he replied.

The boys were some of her current and former students. They grinned at her impishly,
and the aging spinster’s embarrassment swelled unbearably.

Then he said to them, “Guys, I happen to know a delicious secret about Miss Harris,
a secret that she must find terribly embarrassing.”

The schoolmarm fidgeted nervously, wondering what it could be. She could think
of only one thing that fit the situation, but Paul couldn’t possibly know about—

Without warning, he began tickling her feet adroitly. She howled with laughter,
and squirmed vigorously.

He stopped and observed, “You see, Miss Harris is ticklish—very, very ticklish—
especially on her feet!”

The word ticklish aroused immediate enthusiasm in the boys, as if it had been on
the minds of all of them. They smiled wickedly, as the purpose of this session became
clear to them.

Her eyes widened. She was adorably frantic as she cried out, “Oh no, Paul! Please
don’t do that! PLEASE DON’T TICKLE ME!”
Paul’s penis stirred, though he
did not understand why.

Paul was right about her “secret,” of course. (But how had he discovered it?)
She groaned in anticipation of what might lie ahead. For, like most virgins, she was very
ticklish—extremely ticklish, in fact. She always had been, ever since childhood.

Her feet were especially ticklish. In her youth, boys had often taken sadistic pleasure
in overpowering her, and tickling her feet unmercifully. The memories were still vivid.

Such ordeals continued well into adolescence. To this day, visiting a podiatrist or
pedicurist was invariably embarrassing because of her extremely ticklish feet.

But never had her feet been tickled while locked in stocks!

Her extreme ticklishness is what had led to her use of tickling as a means of
disciplining and humiliating her students, a practice that made her known as the
“Wicked Witch.”
The word ticklish aroused immediate enthusiasm in the boys. They smiled wickedly,
but Miss Harris groaned again.

She then realized that the boys were an audience. They had evidently been drawn
by the prospect of watching her being tickled—most probably, tickled out of her wits!

“She seems to be in a rather ticklish predicament,” Paul quipped suggestively, “a very
ticklish predicament, indeed! Don’t you think?” The boys snickered delightedly.

Then Paul drew his nails across her soles and under her toes, making her writhe
and bellow with laughter.

“You see? What did I tell you? Miss Harris is a very ticklish lady indeed!”
he laughed. “Although I knew she was ticklish, I had no idea that she was this

“Oh, you young devil!” she cried out, humiliated by how easily he could reduce her
to a lump of squirming, laughing protoplasm.

“Few things could be more humiliating for Miss Harris than being tickled silly in front
of—or by—her young, male victims,” he said. The group cheered in agreement,
but Miss Harris shuddered.

“You know, Miss Harris, since your feet are so ticklish, you should be very careful
about tickling others. Otherwise, some of your victims might lock your feet in stocks,
and then tickle them—without mercy,” he teased pointedly.

“Oh please, Paul, I beg of you! Don’t tickle my feet! That’s AGONY for me!
I’ll go crazy!” The boys jeered.

“How wonderful! AGONY! How you encourage us! Kooch-kooch-kooch!” Paul
mocked, as she howled with uncontrollable laughter.

In desperation born of her hyper-ticklishness, she cried out to them, “Boys, please
help me! Please don’t let him TICKLE me!”
The boys jeered again.

Then Paul resumed tickling her exquisitely ticklish feet, making her roar with laughter,
while squirming vigorously.

The group egged him on. ”Ooooooh,” said one of the boys, “She really is very
ticklish, isn’t she?” She blushed deeply.

Until now, she had never realized that the human body could experience such
sensations: an astonishing blend of ecstasy and agony.

She had been tickled before (though not often in recent years), but nothing in her
experience had prepared her for this!

“Please stop! It’s torture!” she pleaded. “Precisely,” Paul laughed, ”torture!
I’ll teach you to tickle defenseless young people!”

“Are you sorry now for tickling us so sadistically? For making us laugh like hyenas,
while writhing in agony? For showing us no mercy whatever?” She blanched in guilty

She roared with laughter as he kept tickling her feet. “Kitchee-kitchee-koo!” he
teased. The boys were delighted to see how exceptionally ticklish her feet were,
and Paul kept it up awhile.

Then he started gently biting her toes, bringing forth wails of frantic laughter from the
teacher. “Oh, how scrumptious!” he exclaimed. The boys were absolutely delighted.

“Oh, you young devil!” she cried out, humiliated by how easily he could reduce her
to a lump of squirming, laughing protoplasm.

Paul paused, and whispered to her, ”Humiliating, isn’t it?” He realized that, even
more than the tickling, it was the humiliation that Miss Harris found unbearable.

Of course, being overpowered and tickled was terribly embarrassing for her in the first
place. But what was unbearably humiliating was being tickled—and made to laugh
like a hyena—in front of a bunch of gleeful boys! She thought she would die.

Throughout her ordeal, they all wore the most impish grins, revealing the sinful pleasure
that they were deriving from her tickling and embarrassment.

She could tell that they enjoyed, not only her shrieks of laughter, but also her wriggling,
writhing, and squirming in response to Paul’s unmerciful tickling.

When he paused, she screamed hysterically, “Paul, please have mercy! I can’t stand
it! My feet are too ticklish for this! I’M TOO TICKLISH!”

“Do you hear that, guys?” Paul asked. ”The tickler’s feet are too ticklish for this. How
delightful!” They all laughed heartily.

“Old maids like Miss Harris tend to be exceptionally ticklish.” She blushed at the
reference. “That’s because they’re not used to having their sensitive spots touched—
let alone tickled!”

“After all these years, she must still be a virgin. Isn’t that so, dear, sweet, chaste
Miss Harris? Oh, what is sweeter than innocence tickled?”

“Oh, you beast!” she wailed, in utter mortification. She knew that he was right,
but wondered how he had learned of such things.

He continued, “You know, what I especially enjoy is humiliating Miss Harris. She must
find this unspeakably embarrassing. Isn’t that so, Miss Harris?”

“Yes, yes!” she moaned.

“Oh, what delicious revenge this is! How you deserve to be tickle-tortured!” said Paul.
The boys heartily agreed.

Then Paul said, “Since Miss Harris‘s feet are so very ticklish, she’ll just love these
delightful playthings.”

He showed them two electric toothbrushes of a type noted for its brisk vibrations.
Miss Harris gasped in dismay, while the boys grinned in sinful anticipation.

He smiled mischievously, and said, “For the ultimate in tickling, nothing is more
effective than electric toothbrushes.”

“If you really want to tickle the living daylights out of someone, this is how to do it.”
There was a touch of cruelty in his eyes, and she cringed.

“So now, for some real tickle torture, I’m going to apply these charming playthings
to Miss Harris‘s feet!”

“Oh, no!” she screamed. “Please, don’t do that! DON’T”

He continued, “The tickling effect of applying electric toothbrushes directly to her feet—
soles, heels, arches, toes, tops, bottoms, and sides—will be utterly excruciating.
The tickling sensations will penetrate her feet like electric currents.” No other form of
tickle torture is so excruciating—or maddening!”

He began tickling feet her with his fiendish toys. The devilish implements drilled
the most excruciating tickling sensations into her naturally hyper-ticklish feet,
sensations that penetrated like electric currents.

She howled with hysterical laughter, and struggled fiercely (but vainly) against
her bonds. Her poor mind nearly burst with the tickling sensations that exploded
in her brain.

Tears filled her eyes, and she laughed louder and longer than ever before in her long

“Oh, what fun!” he laughed, as he tickled the living daylights out of her. She shook
the room with the vibrations of her howling laughter.

The extraordinarily ticklish maiden lady squirmed frantically, and bellowed with
laughter, while the boys cheered their approval. “Look at the ‘Wicked Witch’ twitch!”
one exclaimed. “And listen to her howl!” cried another.

“It’s her virginal ticklishness,” one of the boys cried out. The remark made her squirm
in agonized embarrassment.

Then he said, “All right, guys. She's all yours! Have fun. And be sure to
humiliate her!”

”Oh, we will!” they replied.

“Oh, no!” she cried out. “This can’t be happening!” The boys cheered in delight.
This was what they’d been waiting for.

One at a time, each lad delighted in applying the wicked implements to the hapless
spinster’s hyper-ticklish soles and toes for a couple of minutes.

This consecutive attack was hideously effective, and made her shriek and writhe
maniacally. Being “gang-tickled” was a new and mind-blowing experience for her.

“She’s so ticklish! Listen to her shriek!” one tormentor cried out in wicked delight.
The boys cheered their approval.

Paul hinted, “By the way, guys, wouldn’t you enjoy doing this to some other female
teachers that we know?” His friends agreed wholeheartedly.

“Oh, you young devils!” she wailed, in utter mortification.

Then Paul called a stop to let her rest.

Paul told Miss Harris, “We’re looking forward to telling all the boys in the
school about you, Miss Harris, about how hysterically ticklish you are, and about
all the fun we had tickling you out of your wits!”

”Isn’t that so, guys?” His friends enthusiastically cheered their agreement.
The teacher’s humiliation was unbearable.

”After that, boys will point at you, snickering among themselves, delighted by
the knowledge that you’re so entertainingly ticklish.”

”Others will grin at you wickedly, wanting to get their hands on your deliciously
ticklish feet.”

”Maybe some of them will gang up on you, and then tickle-torture you
fiendishly, just for the fun of it, for the sheer pleasure of making you shriek
with laughter, squirm like crazy, and beg them for mercy!”

”Don’t you think so, guys?” Once again, the boys cheered in agreement.
She cried out, ”Oh no! Please don’t tell anyone!” Her tormentors smiled,
delighted by her obvious panic. She blushed, and silently prayed that it would never
happen, that he was saying these things just to unnerve her.

Then Paul began his final assault. Using the tickle tools, he tickled her vulnerable
feet without mercy. This tickling was exceptionally maddening, and drove Miss Harris
to new levels of hilarity.

The old maid suffered the most maddening tickling sensations imaginable.
They penetrated her soles like electric currents.

Finally, she cried out loudly in ticklish agony, agony so intense that she lost

The boys smiled sinfully, and many were overwhelmed by fiercely passionate orgasms.
Paul was very pleased by their reactions.

(Later, in private, he would bring about a fiercely passionate orgasm of his own.)

When she awoke, she had been released. She lay on a sofa, and slowly recovered.

Paul and the others were gone. They had left her to get dressed and find her way
home, enduring the enormity of her humiliation.

Last edited by Paul Jones; 07-21-2013 at 11:24 PM.
Paul Jones is offline   Reply With Quote

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