JordanNova
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- Jul 30, 2013
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I felt like such a loser as I saw all the other people in town on their way to their real jobs. They were dressed in nice clothes, drove brand new cars, and just seemed happy with their lives. I had kind of bounced around in college, not really sure what I wanted to do until my second year. I had always liked the internet and really thought marketing would be the career for me. I wanted to get into the fashion industry and work in a big city. But after a few internships that didn’t pan out to anything, and sending out resume after resume, I was back at home living with my parents in my childhood room.
My parents were not happy about the situation at all. They had friends whose children were going to law school or starting their own businesses. My father, in particular seemed very disappointed in me. I tried my best to keep moving forward, but as the weeks and then months passed by, I felt so discouraged with my situation. I was sure that I would never find a job that would be for me.
I was grateful that my father had found an opportunity for me. He had called his old roommate from college and asked him if he needed someone to do social media postings for his business. His former roommate, Mr. Peters, was someone I remembered from my childhood. He was always at our parties, and brought me the best Christmas gifts. He was handsome, a good dresser, and just one of those people who was always friendly and charismatic.
When I went to the interview for the job, I knew that it wasn’t really an interview. Mr. Peters went out of his way to treat me like I was already part of his staff. His upscale home décor business was thriving and he was eager to have someone take pictures of his items, put them on his social media pages, and make everything perfect.
This should have been the perfect job for me. But of course, I managed to mess up. It all started pretty normal. I had made sure that I looked professional for my first day of work, in a nice long black pencil skirt and button down blouse. I had worn high heels instead of the sensible loafers that my mother had bought for me. I wanted to look like a real professional, even though I felt like an imposter.
I stood up as Mr. Peters entered the room. He always commanded attention wherever he went with his good looks and expensive suits. Although today he was dressed much more casually, in jeans and a t shirt. He must have been working in his warehouse. He still looked good to me.
I smiled to myself. I had always had a little crush on Mr. Peters and was actually kind of excited to be spending more time with him. I had known him for so long and he seemed to be the type of man who got better looking as he got older. There was something about him that I always found intriguing. Maybe it was his stories about working in business that were always interesting to listen to. Maybe it was that he seemed to really listen when I talked to him, unlike all the other older adults that I knew, including my own parents. I always felt a little guilty for having a crush on him, because he was so familiar.
He approached me and I stood up from my chair, and straightened my outfit. I noticed him looking at me and trying not to stare. But I knew he liked what he saw.
“I just wanted to thank you for giving me this job, Mr. Peters.” I said, extending my hand.
He shook it firmly as I felt a burst of electricity seem to surround us. I kept my cool and focused on how gorgeous his lips were.
“Well, Samantha, I’ve been looking for someone to run my social media accounts for a while. But I also needed someone to help kind of clean up around here too. So I was thinking, that tomorrow, you can write a blog post for us and then start organizing some of the files that haven’t been filed. And then I need you to start to clean out the supply closet in the basement. And then you can help the staff dust each piece that is on display. I figure in a few weeks, you’ll get to know the place inside and out and then you can do more social media stuff.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed that I would be doing more cleaning that organizing. I guess he had hired me to be a cleaner too. I wasn’t happy about this development, but I needed a job. So I had to at least pretend that I was enthusiastic and show that I was willing to work my way up.
“So when you come in tomorrow, don’t worry about looking nice. I mean you look very nice today, but you’ll be getting dirty so I don’t want you to mess up any of your nice clothes.”
“Okay, Mr. Peters.” I said, gathering up my bag.
“Today, I’ll give you a tour. And show you all the rooms of this huge place and then you can fill out some paperwork. Welcome aboard, Samantha.”
“Thanks.” I said, trying not to be flustered. I could feel myself feeling those same crush like feelings I had had before.
As we walked through the old building and I got to know the ins and outs of the building, I felt a little panicked. Everything was dirty. There were rooms that needed to be organized, pictures that needed to be taken for the website, and blog post ideas that Mr. Peters had for me to write. And he wanted me to be able to do a little bit of everything all at once. He even suggested that I could help out in the shipping department a few days a week so I would get a better understanding on how a business really worked. What had I gotten myself into? This wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to do stuff with my brain, not manual labor.
***
The filing cabinet was so dusty that I could write my name in the dust with my fingertip. I should write the word Bored, I thought as I thought about my first week at work. It wasn’t as glamourous as I had imagined. I took some cleaner and began to wipe the metal cabinet down as Mr. Peters entered the room.
“Thanks Samantha. I know every room in this old place is a mess isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not that bad.” I said, smiling while gritting my teeth. At this rate, I was never going to get to work on the social media part of my job.
“So this stack of papers needs to go in the filing cabinet. And then that one.” He said pointing to another stack on the floor. “And that one,” he said pointing to an even larger stack on the floor. I looked around and suddenly realized there were about a dozen giant stacks of papers or boxes of papers. I tried to not show my concern, but Mr. Peters had already noticed.
“You know, I really appreciate this Samantha. I’m completely unorganized and I think organizing all of these papers and fabric samples will really help me out.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as his fingertips lightly fluttered. I sucked in a breath of air as I realized how ticklish I was.
“Little ticklish, huh?” he said with a grin.
I nodded, embarrassed.
“I’ll remember that.” He said, still smiling.
I turned around, knowing that my face was going to turn red. As I reached for the stack of papers I hadn’t even noticed that were on top of the filing cabinet, I extended my arms and the back of my shirt went up, exposing my lower back.
“Is that a tattoo, Samantha?” Mr. Peters asked, reaching forward and skimming his fingertips across my lower back. I froze and felt my skin turn to goose bumps. His touch was so warm and ticklish.
I let out a small giggle that I tried to suppress. Instead it sounded loud and jarring.
His eyes remained on me as he gave my tattoo one final trace of his careful fingertip. I knew that he wanted to tickle me again, but he also knew that he shouldn’t.
I reached back and straightened my shirt and shorts. It was clear that he had seen the small cluster of flowers and butterflies that adorned my lower back. I guess I had to tell him about it.
“Yeah, I got it last year.” I confessed.
“Wow. You don’t really seem like the type of young woman who would have a tattoo, although I guess a lot of people have them. Does your dad know about it?”
I shook my head. “No, he’d kill me. He hates tattoos.”
“Wow, so what else are you doing that your dad doesn’t know about?” he teased.
I bit my lip. Was Mr. Peters trying to flirt with me? I felt that same butterflies in my stomach feeling that I had felt the first time I saw him. I tried to shake it off and go back to my work, but for the rest of the afternoon, my thoughts drifted back to Mr. Peters and the way his hand felt against my body. I wanted to be touched like that again and again.
***
I excitedly squirmed in my chair as I organized the items on Mr. Peters’ desk. I had my notebook and my articles all ready to go. I turned on the computer and started to write a little for Mr. Peters’ blog. I made sure to research some of the newest colors that were on trend for fall décor. I lost myself in the research, not realizing that I had sat at his desk for a few hours.
When I needed to take a break, I browsed through some websites, starting with some silly celebrity gossip sites, some fashion sites, and finally ending on some viral videos. I knew I wasn’t supposed to go on those websites, but I needed a quick break.
As I finalized my blog entry and published it the site, I started to gather up my things. I still had about five minutes until I had to leave. As I began to daydream about what to do later that night, Mr. Peters entered the room with a concerned look on his face.
“Samantha, I really need to speak to you, okay?” he said, frowning.
“Sure, Mr. Peters, is something wrong?” I said, scrambling up out of his chair. I took a seat in the same chair where I had been interviewed earlier.
“Lock the door, okay?” he said, as he glared at me.
I got up and turned the lock and then sat back down. He must have not wanted us to be interrupted.
He put his hands together, pressing his palms against one another. “Yes, there’s actually something very wrong that we need to discuss.”
“What is it?” I said, confused. Surely, he didn’t mean me, right?
“Well,” he started. “I found some very inappropriate things on my computer.”
My mind raced as I remembered sharing the computer the day before with one of the managers. It had to be him. I wasn’t the one who was looking at inappropriate websites.
“Oh, Mr. Peters. I am so sorry. I…”
He stared at me, his cool eyes growing darker by the second. “So you were looking at porn on the computer in my office for two hours yesterday?”
I knew I had to tell the truth. I was never a good liar. “What? No…”
He looked away from me, like he was trying to figure something out. “I’m just kind of feeling like you took advantage of me since I know your dad.”
I shook my head frantically, as fear filled me. I wanted to tell him that the manager had been the one on the computer, but the computer had been logged on with my account. I knew Mr. Peters wouldn’t believe me. I was stuck.
“No, it’s not that at all. Please don’t fire me. I really need this job. If I don’t give my parents money for household expenses they are going to kick me out. I can make it up to you. I can work extra hours for free. I can clean, and organize, and…”
“I don’t think that will work, Samantha.”
“Please, Mr. Peters.” I begged, on the verge of tears. I couldn’t go home and tell my parents I had been fired. I just couldn’t. And if I told them why I got fired, they would be so mad. My dad would never let me live this down. He would bring it up forever. They would never help me out again.
“I saw the site you were looking at and that was some pretty interesting pornography young lady.” He said, staring deeply into my eyes. My face turned red as I wondered how I could get out of this situation. It just figured that the time I let someone else use the computer, they used it for looking at porn. I took a deep breath.
“I’ll make a deal with you Samantha, since I really like you and I think that deep down you are good little worker. If you do a good job today, then we can forget this happened, okay?”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll do a good job!” I promised, although I was still not sure what he had in mind for me to work on. I imagined hours of organizing and deep cleaning the whole building.
“Okay, so I need you to bend over my desk right now, just like in one of those clips you watched.”
“Over your desk? Really?” I said, shocked at what he was asking me to do. I wasn’t really sure what he was getting at. I was intrigued but also very embarrassed that I would have to do what I was told. I wasn’t used to doing that. I was used to doing my own thing. And it felt so weird to be so turned on by my father’s friend. Although deep down, I wanted Mr. Peters to do whatever he wanted to do to me.
He nodded, giving me a look that I knew meant to get over his knee as quickly as possible. “I don’t usually discipline employees like this, but it seems like you really need to learn a lesson, Samantha.” He explained.
I stood next to him and froze as his hands went to my sides, guiding me over the desk. I knew he was going to spank me. It had to be it. I waited for the first contact to happen. It seemed like I was waiting forever, like he knew that this was driving me crazy. I could already feel myself getting really turned on.
Instead of him spanking me, his hands began to wander up and down my sides. I froze as I realized he wasn’t going to make me feel pain, he was going to tickle me.
His fingers slide under my blouse and made contact with my goose bumped skin. I began to giggle softly as I felt him shimmy his hands all over my sides and up my shirt until he found my armpits.
My whole body felt like it was on fire. It felt like little spots of warmth were starting from where his hands touched me. The more that he touched me, the more ticklish I became.
Tickling was something that I could take. Or at least I thought I could. I didn’t want to admit to myself that each little poke and prod made me feel like a thousand jolts of electricity were surging through me and it seemed to be turning me on. Did that mean I was some kind of ticklish pervert?
The more I tried to fight the laughter and squirmy feelings inside of me, the more my body betrayed me. I laughed a little bit harder as his fingers slipped under my bra and poked in between my ribs. His fingers were like little bugs that were trying to burrow their way into my most ticklish spots. Just as I laughed from the tickling of my ribs, he would pull away, and then plunge his warm, skilled hands into my pits and frantically move them round and round.
The only sound I could hear in the room was my own laughter. His little soft tickles changed into more deliberate probes. I pressed my body down on the desk and tried to squirm away, but he pressed up against me, his legs against mine, so I couldn’t really move.
“I knew you would be ticklish, Samantha.”
He slid his hand down into the front of my tummy and I was shocked as his finger slipped into my bellybutton. I gasped as his finger dipped inside of me. I was too stunned to move. I couldn’t believe how much it tickled.
“Wow, another tickle spot, huh?” he teased.
“Yes,” I said, embarrassed and still glued to the floor.
“Now, you have to follow all the instructions I tell you, okay?” he whispered, as he helped me to my feet.
I nodded.
He undid my top and my breasts were now exposed to the cool air. My nipples jutted out and his eyes immediately zeroed in on them. I wanted him to touch me so badly that it hurt. But instead he only looked at me.
“Now lay down on the desk and stay still. If you don’t stay still, I will fire you. Do you understand?”
I felt exposed as I laid down on the cool, hard, desk. All I had on was my shorts, but he quickly pulled them away from me, leaving me in just my panties. I knew better than to complain.
I watched helplessly, as he reached out and grabbed one of my feet in his hands. He grabbed a pen off the desk and began to slowly draw on the bottoms of my feet, starting at my heels and working his way up to my arches, the ball of my feet, and finally, in between each of my toes.
I laughed and wiggled on the desk, careful not to move too much. I wanted to jump off the desk and run away, but I knew that I couldn’t.
As he drew his little marks on my foot, I shut my eyes and held onto the sides of the desk as hard as I could. I screamed out loud as my body tensed and released from laughter.
“Ooo, someone has very ticklish feet!” he teased.
He repeated the same motions on my other foot. My laughter was so loud that I was sure someone would come in to find us, but no one came to rescue me. I had to take every little poke and scratch that he gave to my feet.
I begged for him to stop, with tears in my eyes. He looked down at me, with a small sense of pity. He seemed to think I had had enough torture. But I knew he wasn’t done with me yet. He let me calm down a little bit, but I still didn’t get up from the desk. I was so frightened.
“So let me ask you something else, Samantha.” He said as he stared at my body. My nipples were as hard as rocks and I felt so embarrassed standing so exposed like this in front of him.
“Yes?” I said.
“Do you have a crush on me?”
I wanted to disappear. How did he know?
“Yes.” I whispered.
“Why is that?” he asked as he began to trace his finger down my belly and stopped just above my panties. I let out a snort of laughter as his fingers spidered over me.
“You are a great boss and a great person!” I screeched, realizing that he was still going to tickle me.
We locked eyes, and I could tell that he wanted to keep tickling me, but he also wanted to make me want more.
“I think you’ve had enough for today,” he said, placing his hand on my stomach and smiling.
I looked up at him with wide eyes. Part of me didn’t want him to stop. But I couldn't ask him to keep going, that would be weird. And I didn't want to admit to him that I enjoyed my punishment.
I slowly got off the desk and began to dress, trying not to feel embarrassed at what just happened. Mr. Peters seemed to think it was normal. As I gathered my things to leave, Mr. Peters looked at me and said, “You’re on probation for now. If you break any more rules, I’ll have to punish you again.”
I nodded, knowing that I would have to find a new way to break some rules.
To be continued….
My parents were not happy about the situation at all. They had friends whose children were going to law school or starting their own businesses. My father, in particular seemed very disappointed in me. I tried my best to keep moving forward, but as the weeks and then months passed by, I felt so discouraged with my situation. I was sure that I would never find a job that would be for me.
I was grateful that my father had found an opportunity for me. He had called his old roommate from college and asked him if he needed someone to do social media postings for his business. His former roommate, Mr. Peters, was someone I remembered from my childhood. He was always at our parties, and brought me the best Christmas gifts. He was handsome, a good dresser, and just one of those people who was always friendly and charismatic.
When I went to the interview for the job, I knew that it wasn’t really an interview. Mr. Peters went out of his way to treat me like I was already part of his staff. His upscale home décor business was thriving and he was eager to have someone take pictures of his items, put them on his social media pages, and make everything perfect.
This should have been the perfect job for me. But of course, I managed to mess up. It all started pretty normal. I had made sure that I looked professional for my first day of work, in a nice long black pencil skirt and button down blouse. I had worn high heels instead of the sensible loafers that my mother had bought for me. I wanted to look like a real professional, even though I felt like an imposter.
I stood up as Mr. Peters entered the room. He always commanded attention wherever he went with his good looks and expensive suits. Although today he was dressed much more casually, in jeans and a t shirt. He must have been working in his warehouse. He still looked good to me.
I smiled to myself. I had always had a little crush on Mr. Peters and was actually kind of excited to be spending more time with him. I had known him for so long and he seemed to be the type of man who got better looking as he got older. There was something about him that I always found intriguing. Maybe it was his stories about working in business that were always interesting to listen to. Maybe it was that he seemed to really listen when I talked to him, unlike all the other older adults that I knew, including my own parents. I always felt a little guilty for having a crush on him, because he was so familiar.
He approached me and I stood up from my chair, and straightened my outfit. I noticed him looking at me and trying not to stare. But I knew he liked what he saw.
“I just wanted to thank you for giving me this job, Mr. Peters.” I said, extending my hand.
He shook it firmly as I felt a burst of electricity seem to surround us. I kept my cool and focused on how gorgeous his lips were.
“Well, Samantha, I’ve been looking for someone to run my social media accounts for a while. But I also needed someone to help kind of clean up around here too. So I was thinking, that tomorrow, you can write a blog post for us and then start organizing some of the files that haven’t been filed. And then I need you to start to clean out the supply closet in the basement. And then you can help the staff dust each piece that is on display. I figure in a few weeks, you’ll get to know the place inside and out and then you can do more social media stuff.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed that I would be doing more cleaning that organizing. I guess he had hired me to be a cleaner too. I wasn’t happy about this development, but I needed a job. So I had to at least pretend that I was enthusiastic and show that I was willing to work my way up.
“So when you come in tomorrow, don’t worry about looking nice. I mean you look very nice today, but you’ll be getting dirty so I don’t want you to mess up any of your nice clothes.”
“Okay, Mr. Peters.” I said, gathering up my bag.
“Today, I’ll give you a tour. And show you all the rooms of this huge place and then you can fill out some paperwork. Welcome aboard, Samantha.”
“Thanks.” I said, trying not to be flustered. I could feel myself feeling those same crush like feelings I had had before.
As we walked through the old building and I got to know the ins and outs of the building, I felt a little panicked. Everything was dirty. There were rooms that needed to be organized, pictures that needed to be taken for the website, and blog post ideas that Mr. Peters had for me to write. And he wanted me to be able to do a little bit of everything all at once. He even suggested that I could help out in the shipping department a few days a week so I would get a better understanding on how a business really worked. What had I gotten myself into? This wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to do stuff with my brain, not manual labor.
***
The filing cabinet was so dusty that I could write my name in the dust with my fingertip. I should write the word Bored, I thought as I thought about my first week at work. It wasn’t as glamourous as I had imagined. I took some cleaner and began to wipe the metal cabinet down as Mr. Peters entered the room.
“Thanks Samantha. I know every room in this old place is a mess isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not that bad.” I said, smiling while gritting my teeth. At this rate, I was never going to get to work on the social media part of my job.
“So this stack of papers needs to go in the filing cabinet. And then that one.” He said pointing to another stack on the floor. “And that one,” he said pointing to an even larger stack on the floor. I looked around and suddenly realized there were about a dozen giant stacks of papers or boxes of papers. I tried to not show my concern, but Mr. Peters had already noticed.
“You know, I really appreciate this Samantha. I’m completely unorganized and I think organizing all of these papers and fabric samples will really help me out.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a light squeeze as his fingertips lightly fluttered. I sucked in a breath of air as I realized how ticklish I was.
“Little ticklish, huh?” he said with a grin.
I nodded, embarrassed.
“I’ll remember that.” He said, still smiling.
I turned around, knowing that my face was going to turn red. As I reached for the stack of papers I hadn’t even noticed that were on top of the filing cabinet, I extended my arms and the back of my shirt went up, exposing my lower back.
“Is that a tattoo, Samantha?” Mr. Peters asked, reaching forward and skimming his fingertips across my lower back. I froze and felt my skin turn to goose bumps. His touch was so warm and ticklish.
I let out a small giggle that I tried to suppress. Instead it sounded loud and jarring.
His eyes remained on me as he gave my tattoo one final trace of his careful fingertip. I knew that he wanted to tickle me again, but he also knew that he shouldn’t.
I reached back and straightened my shirt and shorts. It was clear that he had seen the small cluster of flowers and butterflies that adorned my lower back. I guess I had to tell him about it.
“Yeah, I got it last year.” I confessed.
“Wow. You don’t really seem like the type of young woman who would have a tattoo, although I guess a lot of people have them. Does your dad know about it?”
I shook my head. “No, he’d kill me. He hates tattoos.”
“Wow, so what else are you doing that your dad doesn’t know about?” he teased.
I bit my lip. Was Mr. Peters trying to flirt with me? I felt that same butterflies in my stomach feeling that I had felt the first time I saw him. I tried to shake it off and go back to my work, but for the rest of the afternoon, my thoughts drifted back to Mr. Peters and the way his hand felt against my body. I wanted to be touched like that again and again.
***
I excitedly squirmed in my chair as I organized the items on Mr. Peters’ desk. I had my notebook and my articles all ready to go. I turned on the computer and started to write a little for Mr. Peters’ blog. I made sure to research some of the newest colors that were on trend for fall décor. I lost myself in the research, not realizing that I had sat at his desk for a few hours.
When I needed to take a break, I browsed through some websites, starting with some silly celebrity gossip sites, some fashion sites, and finally ending on some viral videos. I knew I wasn’t supposed to go on those websites, but I needed a quick break.
As I finalized my blog entry and published it the site, I started to gather up my things. I still had about five minutes until I had to leave. As I began to daydream about what to do later that night, Mr. Peters entered the room with a concerned look on his face.
“Samantha, I really need to speak to you, okay?” he said, frowning.
“Sure, Mr. Peters, is something wrong?” I said, scrambling up out of his chair. I took a seat in the same chair where I had been interviewed earlier.
“Lock the door, okay?” he said, as he glared at me.
I got up and turned the lock and then sat back down. He must have not wanted us to be interrupted.
He put his hands together, pressing his palms against one another. “Yes, there’s actually something very wrong that we need to discuss.”
“What is it?” I said, confused. Surely, he didn’t mean me, right?
“Well,” he started. “I found some very inappropriate things on my computer.”
My mind raced as I remembered sharing the computer the day before with one of the managers. It had to be him. I wasn’t the one who was looking at inappropriate websites.
“Oh, Mr. Peters. I am so sorry. I…”
He stared at me, his cool eyes growing darker by the second. “So you were looking at porn on the computer in my office for two hours yesterday?”
I knew I had to tell the truth. I was never a good liar. “What? No…”
He looked away from me, like he was trying to figure something out. “I’m just kind of feeling like you took advantage of me since I know your dad.”
I shook my head frantically, as fear filled me. I wanted to tell him that the manager had been the one on the computer, but the computer had been logged on with my account. I knew Mr. Peters wouldn’t believe me. I was stuck.
“No, it’s not that at all. Please don’t fire me. I really need this job. If I don’t give my parents money for household expenses they are going to kick me out. I can make it up to you. I can work extra hours for free. I can clean, and organize, and…”
“I don’t think that will work, Samantha.”
“Please, Mr. Peters.” I begged, on the verge of tears. I couldn’t go home and tell my parents I had been fired. I just couldn’t. And if I told them why I got fired, they would be so mad. My dad would never let me live this down. He would bring it up forever. They would never help me out again.
“I saw the site you were looking at and that was some pretty interesting pornography young lady.” He said, staring deeply into my eyes. My face turned red as I wondered how I could get out of this situation. It just figured that the time I let someone else use the computer, they used it for looking at porn. I took a deep breath.
“I’ll make a deal with you Samantha, since I really like you and I think that deep down you are good little worker. If you do a good job today, then we can forget this happened, okay?”
“Yes! Yes, I’ll do a good job!” I promised, although I was still not sure what he had in mind for me to work on. I imagined hours of organizing and deep cleaning the whole building.
“Okay, so I need you to bend over my desk right now, just like in one of those clips you watched.”
“Over your desk? Really?” I said, shocked at what he was asking me to do. I wasn’t really sure what he was getting at. I was intrigued but also very embarrassed that I would have to do what I was told. I wasn’t used to doing that. I was used to doing my own thing. And it felt so weird to be so turned on by my father’s friend. Although deep down, I wanted Mr. Peters to do whatever he wanted to do to me.
He nodded, giving me a look that I knew meant to get over his knee as quickly as possible. “I don’t usually discipline employees like this, but it seems like you really need to learn a lesson, Samantha.” He explained.
I stood next to him and froze as his hands went to my sides, guiding me over the desk. I knew he was going to spank me. It had to be it. I waited for the first contact to happen. It seemed like I was waiting forever, like he knew that this was driving me crazy. I could already feel myself getting really turned on.
Instead of him spanking me, his hands began to wander up and down my sides. I froze as I realized he wasn’t going to make me feel pain, he was going to tickle me.
His fingers slide under my blouse and made contact with my goose bumped skin. I began to giggle softly as I felt him shimmy his hands all over my sides and up my shirt until he found my armpits.
My whole body felt like it was on fire. It felt like little spots of warmth were starting from where his hands touched me. The more that he touched me, the more ticklish I became.
Tickling was something that I could take. Or at least I thought I could. I didn’t want to admit to myself that each little poke and prod made me feel like a thousand jolts of electricity were surging through me and it seemed to be turning me on. Did that mean I was some kind of ticklish pervert?
The more I tried to fight the laughter and squirmy feelings inside of me, the more my body betrayed me. I laughed a little bit harder as his fingers slipped under my bra and poked in between my ribs. His fingers were like little bugs that were trying to burrow their way into my most ticklish spots. Just as I laughed from the tickling of my ribs, he would pull away, and then plunge his warm, skilled hands into my pits and frantically move them round and round.
The only sound I could hear in the room was my own laughter. His little soft tickles changed into more deliberate probes. I pressed my body down on the desk and tried to squirm away, but he pressed up against me, his legs against mine, so I couldn’t really move.
“I knew you would be ticklish, Samantha.”
He slid his hand down into the front of my tummy and I was shocked as his finger slipped into my bellybutton. I gasped as his finger dipped inside of me. I was too stunned to move. I couldn’t believe how much it tickled.
“Wow, another tickle spot, huh?” he teased.
“Yes,” I said, embarrassed and still glued to the floor.
“Now, you have to follow all the instructions I tell you, okay?” he whispered, as he helped me to my feet.
I nodded.
He undid my top and my breasts were now exposed to the cool air. My nipples jutted out and his eyes immediately zeroed in on them. I wanted him to touch me so badly that it hurt. But instead he only looked at me.
“Now lay down on the desk and stay still. If you don’t stay still, I will fire you. Do you understand?”
I felt exposed as I laid down on the cool, hard, desk. All I had on was my shorts, but he quickly pulled them away from me, leaving me in just my panties. I knew better than to complain.
I watched helplessly, as he reached out and grabbed one of my feet in his hands. He grabbed a pen off the desk and began to slowly draw on the bottoms of my feet, starting at my heels and working his way up to my arches, the ball of my feet, and finally, in between each of my toes.
I laughed and wiggled on the desk, careful not to move too much. I wanted to jump off the desk and run away, but I knew that I couldn’t.
As he drew his little marks on my foot, I shut my eyes and held onto the sides of the desk as hard as I could. I screamed out loud as my body tensed and released from laughter.
“Ooo, someone has very ticklish feet!” he teased.
He repeated the same motions on my other foot. My laughter was so loud that I was sure someone would come in to find us, but no one came to rescue me. I had to take every little poke and scratch that he gave to my feet.
I begged for him to stop, with tears in my eyes. He looked down at me, with a small sense of pity. He seemed to think I had had enough torture. But I knew he wasn’t done with me yet. He let me calm down a little bit, but I still didn’t get up from the desk. I was so frightened.
“So let me ask you something else, Samantha.” He said as he stared at my body. My nipples were as hard as rocks and I felt so embarrassed standing so exposed like this in front of him.
“Yes?” I said.
“Do you have a crush on me?”
I wanted to disappear. How did he know?
“Yes.” I whispered.
“Why is that?” he asked as he began to trace his finger down my belly and stopped just above my panties. I let out a snort of laughter as his fingers spidered over me.
“You are a great boss and a great person!” I screeched, realizing that he was still going to tickle me.
We locked eyes, and I could tell that he wanted to keep tickling me, but he also wanted to make me want more.
“I think you’ve had enough for today,” he said, placing his hand on my stomach and smiling.
I looked up at him with wide eyes. Part of me didn’t want him to stop. But I couldn't ask him to keep going, that would be weird. And I didn't want to admit to him that I enjoyed my punishment.
I slowly got off the desk and began to dress, trying not to feel embarrassed at what just happened. Mr. Peters seemed to think it was normal. As I gathered my things to leave, Mr. Peters looked at me and said, “You’re on probation for now. If you break any more rules, I’ll have to punish you again.”
I nodded, knowing that I would have to find a new way to break some rules.
To be continued….
