Peter : 01 - A new way to study (f/m)

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Peter : 01 - A new way to study (f/m)

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Peter's stories
01 - A new way to study
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By Peter

Friday, October 4th 2002 - 01:55:47 AM

A new way to study

This story takes place a couple of weeks ago. I was walking home from school with some friends: Dave, Brian and Amy. We're all freshmen in high school, all fourteen and almost fifteen years-old, except Dave, who was a sophomore and was already sixteen. It had been a nice and warm day up until the end of the school day, so we were wearing pretty light clothing. However, almost as soon as school got out, the weather took a turn for the worst. The skies turned gray and cloudy. When we stopped at Dave and Brian's house (they were brothers) it had started to sprinkle. Amy was wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and flip-flop sandals (her favorite kind of shoe, since she didn't really like any kind of footwear) while I had on a T-shirt, shorts, and some of those sandals with all the straps. Dave asked us if we wanted to just stay at his and Brian's house, and maybe wait out the little rainshower, but Amy and I declined, figuring it had been such a nice day that it couldn't get too bad, and our homes were only a few miles away. We were a little wrong.

Amy's house was next, and between Dave and Brian's and her house, the rain picked up quite a bit, and wind added to the chilling effect. I still had a couple miles to go and we were so wet and soaked water dripped from all over our bodies, which prompted Amy to practically demand I come inside and at least get dry before heading out again in my clothes. Since I was shivering, and was hardly going to turn down an invitation from a girl, I followed her in.

"Those clothes are wet," she said, regarding my drenched clothing when we got inside.

"Wonder how that happened," I said.

"Very funny," she shot back, heading upstairs while I stayed in the living room. "Hey," she called. "Come up here, and I'll give you some of my clothes."

"That's really okay," I said. "These will be fine." I was in no hurry to put on, say, a dress or a skirt.

"Oh, don't worry," she said. "It won't be embarrassing or anything. I'll give you gender-neutral clothes." She giggled a little as she said it, failing to complete the sentence with a straight face.

"Oh, okay," I said, realizing my clothes were keeping me from getting warm.

I followed her upstairs, where she presented me with a pair of sweatpants and a large T-shirt that said, "Grrl Power".

"Sorry," she said. "But you're taller than me, so I had to find one of my over-sized night shirts." I turned to find a bathroom to change, but she said,
"Ooh, wait, I forgot socks." She poked around a drawer, and then said, "Umm, I don't really like tube socks. I only have ankle socks, and they all have laces and stuff on them. I'm not even sure they'll get to your ankle. You have bigger feet than I do. Is that okay?"

"I'll just do without," I said. "Your house is warm enough to go barefoot in."

"I agree," she said. Ushering me to a bathroom, she ordered, "Now go change!"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. The sweatpants were actually long (she must like them baggy, I thought) and a little tight, but they had an elastic band so they fit rather well.

Once I was changed, I found her in the family room downstairs, the TV on. She had changed into a long-sleeve shirt and a different pair of jeans, but was still barefoot. The weatherman was announcing a surprise storm that would probably last at least the rest of the evening and well into the night.

"I'm sure my mom will come pick me up, but she doesn't get off work for a while. Is it okay if I stay until then?" I asked, not wanting to go out there with only a T-shirt and shorts.

"Sure, my parents won't be back until later, either." She laughed as she turned and saw me in her attire for the first time. "By the way, nice shirt, grrl." She made an extra effort to pronounce the "grr".

"Thanks," I said, making a face.

"What should we do to pass the time?" Amy asked.

"I don't know," I replied.

"We could play a board game," she suggested.

"We could," I agreed.

"Or...oh!" She smacked her forehead. "We have that history test tomorrow!"

"Er, the one I haven't studied for?" I said, sheepishly.

"Yeah, the one I haven't studied for, either," she answered, grinning.

"Well, then I guess we should get on that."

We pulled out our history books and notes and sat cross-legged across from each other on the floor. After about twenty minutes of silent reading, Amy said, "So, think you're ready to give me a practice quiz?"

"Sure," I said.

I asked her several questions, and she answered almost every one of them correctly. "Very good. Now quiz me!" I told her. She did so, and I didn't do as well.

"Okay," she said. "Don't worry. Study some more and I'll ask you again."

I did some more studying, but still couldn't answer most of the questions she gave me (they were different from before). She took on an air of mock exasperation.

"Do you need special encouragement to get these right?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Something my brother used to do to me to help me study while I was in junior high." I had never met Amy's brother, as he had moved to college before I met her. But she told stories, and he sounded very strange. I should have known not to trust something he came up with, but...

"And what was that?" I said, setting myself up.

"Here, I'll go get the stuff we'll need," she said cryptically. She left and went into the garage. She returned, poking her head out from a corner leading from the family room to the garage. "Close your eyes."

"This seems very weird," I said, suspicious.

"It'll all makes sense soon. And it'll work," she said.

"Okay." I dutifully closed my eyes. I heard her feet pad over the carpet to me. "Don't be alarmed by what I'm about to do. Trust me, I won't hurt you."

"Umm, okay?" I said, suddenly, despite her insistence, alarmed.

I felt her warm hands grab my wrists and bring them together in back of me. I had never been tied-up before, so the thought of it happening didn't even crossed my mind. I was just confused. Suddenly, I felt something being wrapped around my wrists. Realization struck, but it was too late. She was surprisingly strong, and I was never exactly the World's Strongest Man, anyway. I opened my eyes and found a long coil of rope wrapped around my wrists, tying them together.

"What's this?" I asked, still trying to recover from the shock.

"Come on," she said, helping me up by my arms. "I'll put you on the couch."

"Why?" I asked.

"I said you'll find out. Be patient," Amy said. She had a little grin on her face. I knew she wouldn't hurt me, she didn't even have to say that, but I was a little worried nonetheless. What could this have to do with a history test, anyway?

She helped me lie on the couch, stomach-down. Then, after commanding me to lie still, she grabbed another piece of rope and proceeded to tightly bind my ankles together. I was in no position to fight back, anyway. Although I never had a tie-up experience or anything before to judge from, this seemed like something she had done before, as the ropes were tight and snug, not allowing for much movement, but yet were not very uncomfortable.

"Almost done," she said. She grabbed a third rope and tied it around my ankles as well, but this time she brought it towards my wrists, and, after pulling my ankles as close to my wrists as she could without hurting me, she wrapped the rope around my wrists and knotted it off. As a finishing touch, she used a thinner and shorter rope, and used it to tie my big toes together.

She let me continue my futile struggle against my bonds while she went and collected the history book and notes. "Now, answer my questions."

"Sorry, now I feel like James Bond, tied-up and being forced to answer questions," I said.

"Well, Mr. Bond, I believe you are enjoying yourself." She had a wry grin on her face. I noticed, by checking my pants, that it seemed I was. I blushed. "You're cute when you blush like that," she said, making me blush more. "Don't worry. It's not that weird. I think I enjoy it, too." She sat on the couch, next to my bound and bare feet. "Now, Mr. Bond, can you name the thirteen original colonies?"

I managed to name seven of them before I said, "Maine."

"Nope, sorry," Amy said. "That wasn't an original colony. You must get your punishment."

"Punishmen-" I started, but couldn't because she had dragged a finger down the sole of my right foot, causing me to burst out laughing and struggle to escape, hopeless as that was. "Wha?" I asked, when she stopped.

"For every missed question, you get a tickle. The more you miss, the worse the tickling will get!" Amy said, smiling deviously.

"I'm not sure I'm going to like this," I said, although truthfully it seemed like it was going to be kind of fun.

"Sure you will!" Amy assured me. "Now..."

She asked me thirty or so more questions, and each time I answered one wrong, she would use her fingers and tickle my defenseless feet. True to her word, each tickle increased more and more in length and intensity. She started with just a light touch, her finger flicking over my apparently sensitive and reactive soles. Later she traced the lines on my feet, or worked a fingernail into the spaces between my toes. Finally, toward the end of the questions, she started to go all-out, with periods of 15-20 seconds of straight tickling on both feet with every finger and even, once, her own toes, (although this wasn't as effective) while I laughed uncontrollably. Then she'd pause for an actual minute or two (she even checked the clock) before giving me the next question. I knew that I was ticklish where my older brothers tickled me, which was on my stomach, ribs and armpits, but these spots paled in comparison to the reaction I gave when Amy tickled my feet.

Amy laughed every time I tensed and tried to wiggle free when she yelled, "Wrong!" after an incorrect answer. "Your feet are almost as ticklish as mine!" She remarked at one point.

"We can test your hypothesis if we switch spots," I said. The tickling was enjoyable, but I also wanted a chance at revenge. No such luck.

"I'm not the one having trouble with the history," she teased, giving a big toe a little scratch.

When she was done with her questions, and I was breathing a little heavy, sweating and tearing up, she got up, saying she would get me some water and give me a nice break before Round 2.

She gave me the water, and showed me a clean paintbrush and a hair brush.

"It's Round 2!" She said, making it sound like a game show, a bizarre form of Jeopardy! "I'll ask you the same questions as before. You should be able to answer them this time." She had given me the answer to each question I got wrong before tickling me. "If you can't, you get the paint brush or the hair brush, since it may tickle even more. Plus, my fingers are getting tired - you answered too many questions wrong - and your feet are starting to sweat." She stuck her tongue out to show her displeasure.

"Should be able to," I repeated, bracing myself for some more tickle torture.

"My brother used to do this to me all the time. You get used to it," she told me. I groaned, and she laughed again. "You're so cute!" I was beginning to realize she liked me as more than a friend, and that I could see myself easily returning the feeling.

After a sufficient break, during which I feebly tried to undo the ropes tying me, which she seemed to find amusing, she started repeating her questions. I answered more correct this time, but still was subjected to a few assaults with the brushes. However, by the end of "Round 2", I was starting to get really tired. My muscles were cramping, and I was laughing less as, despite the frequent lengthy breaks, the tickling was losing its effect.

Amy noticed this and checked her watch. "You've been tied-up for almost one hour and twenty-five minutes!" She exclaimed. "I should have untied you during the break!"

"It's okay," I said. "It wasn't really that long."

"I still feel bad," she said, untying me. When she was done, she examined my ankles and wrists. Noting the rope marks, she asked, "Was it too tight? Did it hurt?"

"No," I said. "The marks will go away. Here, give me the quiz one more time, and we'll see how much I remembered."

She did so and this time I got twenty-eight of the thirty right. "I was right, that does work," I admitted.

"Yep," she said.

"Well, since it works this well, you can help me study this way anytime. At least, on one condition..."

"And what's that?" she said, probably already aware of what I would say.

"You let me help you when you have trouble."

"Fine," she said, smiling.

"Like that math test we'll have next week." While history was not a strong suit of mine, Amy was weak in the math area. "No reason why I should have all the fun."

"Of course not," she said, grinning.

My mom agreed to pick me up later, because the rain was not letting up. Amy and I started going out two days later, and have found ways since then to tie each other up and tickle each other, without necessarily having anything to study. But those are different stories. It was definitely the most fun I ever had studying, and I even got a 94% on the test.

Peter

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