Miss Palmer, her glossy lips curved in a secretive smile, stands with her wavy brown hair shimmering under the lights. Her full figure is accentuated by a fitted blouse, and her eyes glint with playful mischief. Nearby, Shane, fidgeting nervously, glances at the mat, dread written all over his face as his hands are gently but firmly tied to the bottom of the desk.

"Miss Palmer, please! I promise I’ll behave," he pleads, voice trembling. "Oh Shane, you know the rules. Naughty students get very special punishments," she teases, voice soft and syrupy. Her long tongue flicks out in a playful gesture, and she adjusts his shirt with meticulous care, exposing his entire belly to the cool air. Shane squirms, but his escape attempts are futile—Miss Palmer is an expert tickler and isn’t about to let him go.

Miss Palmer kneels beside Shane, her lips glossy and her smile dazzling. She lowers her head slowly, letting her breath tickle his sensitive skin, and catches the first giggle that escapes him. "Looks like you're ticklish even before I start! Should I give you a warm-up, or go straight for the big leagues?" she taunts, her voice lilting. She finally plants the first raspberry on his belly, and his whole body jolts with laughter, unable to withstand the ticklish sensation.

Miss Palmer blows dozens of raspberries all over Shane's poor tummy, her technique varied and expert. She peppers her teasing with playful remarks, letting her hair cascade over his belly to add another layer of ticklishness. "My raspberries are just a little juicy today, aren’t they, Shane? Maybe next time I’ll bring a towel!" she giggles, watching the droplets glisten. Shane tries to catch his breath, but every time he thinks it’s over, her lips descend again.

She switches tactics, giving Shane sloppy, ticklish kisses meant to give him a break, but they only make him giggle more. "You can't escape, Shane. As long as you giggle, I won't stop. My hair seems to be doing wonders too, doesn't it?" She lets her wavy locks trail and tickle his exposed belly, grinning as he squirms. The raspberries and kisses get progressively wetter and sloppier, leaving a constellation of moisture behind.

Miss Palmer retrieves the bottle, and Shane's eyes widen in terror. "No, Miss Palmer! That's cheating—I’m not ticklish, I swear!" he protests, but she just laughs, tying her hair up with deliberate flair. "Oh Shane, I haven’t even started yet. Just wait until my tongue gets a taste of your chocolate-coated belly," she taunts, swirling her tongue out in a teasing gesture.

She leans in, her tongue dripping and glistening, and begins to swirl it in slow, deliberate patterns on his tummy. "Your tongue is my worst enemy!" Shane cries, writhing as she finds every ticklish spot. "It’s the longest, wettest tongue in the school, and it’s reserved just for you," she teases, increasing the pace and varying her path to keep him guessing. His laughter is unstoppable, each probe of her tongue sending him into fresh fits of giggles.

Miss Palmer pauses only occasionally, letting Shane catch his breath before starting again. "Is it over yet? Please, I need to escape!" he begs, but she just grins, knowing that the punishment will continue for hours. "Tomorrow, Shane, we’ll see if you’re still the most ticklish student in school," she promises, her smile broad and triumphant.