Dez Gets Into An All-Girl School

Dez Gets Into An All-Girl School


            I couldn't believe it.  I got admitted to an all girl school.  I was so excited I could hardly wait.  The first day of class I wore a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, as the weather was warm.  My first class of the day was Psychology 101.  I got to class early, so that I could watch all of the girls walk in.  There was a large counter, in the front of the room.  It looked like one of those counters you might see in the front of a biology or chemistry class.  I check my paper, and the room number.  I was in the right place.  Why would they need with one of those counters, in a psychology class?  By class time (9:00), I was very pleased with what I saw, though I have to say they all seemed a bit puzzled to see me.  We all, I included, found out why I was there, a moment later.

            The professor, Dr. Taft, entered the room.  She was a short, stocky lady, and probably around 50 years old.

            "Welcome, students," she said.  "I hope everyone is here, because we're getting straight to business.  I only have an hour and a half with you, and we've got a lot to of subjects to poke into.  I see our male student made it.  Tell me, how does it feel to be in a classroom full of girls?"

            "Different," I said, trying to be as objective as possible.

            "I've got an idea why you applied to go to school here," Dr. Taft said, "but, I'll bet you're still wondering why we accepted you."

            "I'm not going to question the schools judgment," I said, trying my best not to sound like I was kissing up.

            "Tell me, Dez," she implored.  "Do you remember a young lady named Jessie?"

            My mind flashed back to the only Jessie I could think of.  She was the one who instigated my merciless tickle torture at the hands of the entire cheerleading squad."

            "Yes," my voice a little.

            "She's friends with my daughter, and when she heard that you were trying to get into our school, she let us in on a little secret, about you."  Dr. Taft had a taunting expression on her face/

            How did Jessie find out I was trying to get in here?  Kelly must have told her.  It's the only way.

            "What secret?"  I tried to be cool.  "I don't have any secrets."

            I hoped she wasn't talking about what I thought she was talking about.

            "You see, Dez," Dr. Taft continued.  "For years, we've been teaching girls about all of the best ways to have a man at your mercy, to do whatever you want him to do.  However, lots of our girls get out in the world, and don't do well at applying what they've been taught.  I hinted to the dean, and she thought it was swell idea, to admit a young man to the school, so that they girls would have someone to practice on."

            My eyes were gradually widening.  I was part of a plot (It felt pretty good, actually.  Of all the guys who tried to get in here they chose me.)

            "We chose you," she went on, "because, according to Jessie, you are the most ticklish guy in the world.  That's what she says, anyway.  We'll find out, soon enough."

            The girl behind me poked my shoulder.

            "Don't even think about trying to run, either, cause we'll tackle you."

            "Yes, Dez," Dr. Taft continued.  "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

            She went to the large counter, and reached into one of the drawers, pulling out several Velcro straps, with rings attached.  There were various rings on the counter, and she proceeded to attach a strap to each ring.

            "The easy way," Dr. Taft spoke again, "would be to walk down here, of your own volition, lie down on the counter, and let me put the straps on you.  The hard way involves you being strapped to the table, by any means necessary."

            Well, I wasn't going down with out a fight.  I bolted, like lightning, in a mad dash for the door.  The girl behind me was prepared, with a well placed foot, to trip me.  I landed flat on my face, and felt a barrage of hands grabbing me.  The hoisted me up, and carried my struggling self to the front of the classroom.  The laid me on the counter, and held me still, as Dr. Taft secured the straps one by one.  My arms were stretched out past my head, very tightly, and secured with a set of cuffs (these weren't Velcro, though, they buckled like belt.  Next, she used one strap to bind my ankles together to the other end of the table.

            "Okay," Dr. Taft said.  "You ladies can step back, now."

            As I was helpless to defend myself, she proceeded to put another strap around my knees, one around my waist, and one around my elbows.  The one around my elbows was particularly uncomfortable, because it pulled them tightly together, and caused severe movement restrictions.  I could scarcely even move my head, because my arms were pressed so tightly against it.

            "Wow," one girl chimed in.  "He looks pretty helpless."

            "We're not quite finished yet," Dr. Taft said.

            There was a hole on either side of my bound ankles.

            She opened a door, underneath me, and pulled out a weird looking board, with leather wrapped all the way around.  She reached back in the drawer and pulled out two long screws, each with two hex nuts and three washers.  She put one washer on a screw, and pushed it up through the hole next to might right ankle.  She put another washer on, and tightened down a hex nut.  She then did the same on the left side.

            "Now," Dr. Taft said.  "One of you take off his flip-flops."

            I started squirming, and wiggling my feet, trying to prevent this from happening.  It didn't work.

            "Okay," Dr. Taft continued, "now grab his toes, and pull them back as far as you can."

            Several of them jumped at the opportunity, but one particularly tall girl got the honors.

            While the girl held my toes back, Dr. Taft fitted the fancy board down over the protruding screws, until it rested on top of my toes.  Dr. Taft put her hand on the board to hold it in place and the other girl pulled her hands away.  Dr. Taft then put the washers and hex nuts on, and tightened it down until it almost hurt.

            I tested my bondage.  I couldn't move my feet, even the slightest, not even my toes.  My arms were so tight against my head, that I could hardly wiggle my head.  The only part of my body that I could move was my fingers, and they were to far away to be able to help me now.  Some tape across my mouth at an unexpected time, and now I couldn't speak either.  Dr. Taft reached in the door again, and pulled out a long black sock, which she used to blindfold me.

            Great.  There I was, tied and completely immobile, on a countertop, surrounded by a bunch of girls, who were about to find out how ticklish I really am.

            "What Jessie shared with me," Dr. Taft seemed was talking to me, "is that you are very, no extremely, no ridiculously ticklish."

            I tried to speak through the tape, but they weren't going to listen, even if I could speak.

            I hated not being able to see what they were doing.  I wouldn't know when or where the tickling was going to start.  I tried to ease the discomfort in my arms, but they just wouldn't move.  My heart was pounding.  The fear was seizing me.  Thoughts of what was to come were racing through my mind.

            "Now, ladies," Dr. Taft spoke again.  "From this point, until the end of the class period, we will not speak again.  Is that understood?"

            The girls all voiced their understanding, and from that point on, they didn't speak.

            That was just great.  Now, not only was I bound, helpless, blind, and mute to what was going on around me, I wasn't going to know who was where.

            My heart raced faster and faster.  Sweat beads were already forming on my forehead, and the tickling hadn't even started.  Suddenly, I cringed, nearly shrieking, as a fingernail quickly stroked the bottom of my right foot, from the heel up to the ball, and then pulled away.  A few seconds later, the same thing happened on the left foot.  That time, I did make a little noise.  The next thing I knew, I felt several fingernails, slowly and softly scratching the bottoms of my feet.  I could do nothing.  I couldn't scrunch my toes, and could wiggle or sway my feet.  I couldn't put one foot in front of the other.  I could move my feet, even slightly.  I held it in for about four seconds, before surging laughter into the gag.


            Another set of nails, began teasing the undersides of my toes.


            I couldn't buck.  I couldn't jerk.  I couldn't do anything, but lay there and take it.  I pulled with all my might, but the straps were too strong.  The rings holding the straps in place were heavy duty, and would be hard to bend by running them over, so I knew I wasn't going to break them.


            My laughter was already starting to be the squealing kind.  I hated to sound so much like a girl, lying there laughing, but it tickled so much.

            It had probably been about 9:20, when they blindfolded me, so I had at least an hour of tickling left to endure (There was no doubt in my mind they would go the entire hour).

            I felt more hands start tickling my legs, squeezing my knees, and poking my pelvis and hip joint area.

            I reverted to a deep, gut-sounding laughter.  My body was shaking, because of how bad it tickled.  I laid there spasming and mmphing, as they continued to make their way further up my body.  More hands (every stinking one of them had long fingernails, too) started scratching my stomach, and poking me in the belly button.  I'm sure that my face was red.  I was sweating profusely, and tears of laughter streamed down my face.  I felt sure was going to pass out.

            I felt the need to pee, rapidly approaching.  There was no way I would be able to hold it.  Every muscle in my body was focused on the tickling that invaded me.  I felt fingernails raking my armpits.  It was too much.  I wet myself.

            The spasming increased in intensity.  I felt like I was being electrified.  Shockwaves went up and down my body, as more long fingernails joined the attack on my helpless body.  There must have been thirty girls in the class, and soon they would all be taking part in my torture.  This is what they were being trained for, to be able to make a man do anything they wanted.  I'm gonna tell you something.  At this moment, I would've cut a limb off for these girls.  I would have done anything to make them stop tickling me.  More fingernails scratched the backs of my arms, as others poked all about my rib cage.  Approximately 300 fingers (all with long nails) rummaged all over my helpless body.  I passed out.

            They woke me seconds later, with smelly salts, and the torture continued.

            Every muscle in my body was aching from the intense tickle torture.  My lungs hurt from the abnormal breathing.  My head hurt from my arms pressing against it.  None of that matter, though.  All that mattered was tickling.  Relentless, merciless, sadistic tickling encompassed my whole body.  Several people tortured my feet.  Several more tortured my legs.  Most of them were torturing my ribs and underarms.  There even people tickling around my neck, which tickled a lot, because of their nails.

            It seemed like hours, before I finally felt them starting to pull away.

            "Okay, ladies," I heard Dr. Taft speaking.  "That's all for today.  Tomorrow, we'll discuss Dez's reactions to the nerve stimulation."

            I was still laughing and spasming as Dr. Taft, took the tape off of my mouth, removed the blindfold, and started undoing the straps.

            "Why?"  It was all I could get out.

            "Don't question my methods," Dr. Taft said.  "If you do, I'll continue to use them on you, until you don't question them."

            "Oh, I'm outta here," I said.  "You'll never see me again."

            "How do you propose your gonna get out of here?"  She questioned.

            "I'm gonna walk right out the front door," I stated, resolutely.

            "No one drops out of my class," she shot back.  "I know where you live.  We'll find you, and have class there.  And, I can promise you that it will be a lot worse than this was."

            I gulped.

            "If you stay in the class," she continued, "I can promise that you'll be tickled no more than once a week.  Regardless of how bad it was today, this is still a psychology class.  We are going to study what we did today, rather deeply.  I'm certain it will take the rest of this week, and maybe some of next week."

            "How are we going to study it?"  I was really curious.  "We would have to remember a lot, from today."

            "Oh, no, no, no," she answered, pointing upward.  "I recorded everything."

            I looked up and saw a video camera, positioned directly above the counter, aimed straight down at where I had been lying.

            "We'll watch it bit by bit," she continued, "and analyze every action and reaction."

            I was going to like this class, except for all of the tickling.  I would enjoy watching videos of me, tied to a table, with thirty girls touching me all over.

            "Later, Dr. Taft," I said.  "Don't worry.  I'm not going anywhere."

            "See you in a couple of days," she said.  The class was on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

            It was a good thing my next class wasn't until 1:00.  I had to go back to my dorm and change clothes. My next class was cosmetology.


THE END (Look for part two - Cosmetology Class - coming soon.)