WestchesterT
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2002
- Messages
- 68
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This is the retellling of a session I had with Mariah of Hidden Chamber in NYC. I had written the story a couple of years ago (as a fffff/m story) and engaged her to reenact part of it. She is a DEVASTATING tickler! And quite ticklish herself, as I discovered! I will returned to truly get my revenge!! Anyway, here's the f/m, m/f tickling story:
Ticklish Exec
Mariah walks in and sits at the desk. "Hello, Mr. Blank," she begins.
"German, please," I correct her. “I try to be less formal at the office than most senior management.”
"German," she smiles as she puts down her briefcase. "I know it’s a sore point, but I need to talk to you one last time on behalf of these office assistants. They really need at least a 15% raise if they're going to stay here." She slowly and deliberately crosses her long, stockinged leg and begins to let her shoe dangle from her foot. Despite myself, I glance at her arches, then can’t turn my eyes away.
“I…uh, thought we had discussed this completely and…” as I’m distracted by her dangling shoe display, “we determined there really wasn’t…wasn’t much I could do.”
“Are you sure?” she asks leadingly.
“Well, yeah, I mean…I have a really strict budget this year and…I can allow a little increase for inflation, but…that’s really about it.” Mariah has now crossed her legs the other way and I have a clear view of her arch as she dangles and leans in closer. I realize that I’m not as much in control as I’d like to be.
“Are you looking at my feet?” she asks suddenly, and I realize that I’ve been staring at the hypnotic circles she’s been making with her heels, rotating her foot in the air while expertly dangling the shoe from her toes.
“I…was just admiring your shoes,” I stammer as I try to recover. “I was about to compliment you on them.” Does she suspect…
“Hmm, that’s interesting because I heard from an old girlfriend of yours that you have kind of a…thing…for feet,” she says while staring at my face for a reaction, “heels…stockings…” she continues, emphasizing each word, each object that I have a weakness for.
“I don’t know where you heard that,” I reply breathlessly, “I don’t know what your source is, but…” This is bad. She knew all of this going in and was using it against me as leverage to negotiate!
“Are you sure about that? Come on, German, I’ve seen how you’ve looked at my feet since I sat down and crossed my legs.”
“There…might be some truth to that,” I admit, hoping to put the issue to rest and regain control of this meeting, “but it’s not appropriate in an office environment…”
Mariah readjusts her position on the settee, sitting a little further away. I am about to breath a sigh of relief when she slowly swings one leg over and onto my knees. I stare at her leg in disbelief when she pops her heel off and dangles her shoe again, her exposed sole just 18 inches from my face. “I don’t know…I’ve been watching you looking at me, and I think it’s true what she said. You DO have a thing for feet…don’t you?”
I hesitate, knowing I have to be cautious.
“You know, 15% can get you a lot of foot play in this office.” She’s dropped a bombshell, but I can’t be too quick to jump on this…
“Well, perhaps we can talk about this further and see where it may lead…”
“So you’re admitting you like my feet?”
“I’ve always admired good designer shoes…I wouldn’t say I have a ‘thing’…”
She places her other leg in my lap and adds, ”That 15% can get you very far in this office.”
“Well, that does sound kind of interesting,” I admit slowly. Mariah has now gone into full leg show mode, with both legs on my lap, rubbing against each, dangling both shoes, crossing and re-crossing them.
She looks at me expectantly, and I come back to my senses. “No, I’m sorry. I just can’t do 15%.”
She swings her legs away and stands up. I’ve held firm despite her knowing my weakness.
“Oh, German,” she sighs, “You’re disappointing me! “ She pulls a folder from her briefcase. “I wrote up this contract for you to sign. I was resolved to not leave until you signed!”
“Look, I hate to disappoint. I’ll talk to the regional VP and see if there’s a little more I can do.”
“Well, thank you, German. Come here and stand up.” As I approach, she starts to undo my tie. I hesitate.
“I’m not sure…”
“The door is locked and you know this room is soundproof. It’s after 5, it’s a long weekend, there’s no one here. The cleaning crew doesn’t show up until 7.” She continued to undress me, taking off my short, shoes and pants. She was seated on chair, with her legs crossed, continuing her tease.
“You know, I never understood toe cleavage when I was young. But now I do. Look, it’s like breast cleavage…but with toes. Isn’t that sexy?”
I agree, my eyes draw to her feet and shoes once more. She walks me over to the couch (actually, the bondage table) and she has me lie on it. She pulls out ropes and leather restraints and I balk.
“I just want to make you safe and secure. Haven’t you ever been tried down before? Come on! You can be a little kinky, can’t you?” she asks teasingly.
7“Well, OK, I’ll go along with this for a bit. I’m not as stiff as some people say, you know.”
She ties my hands to the posts above my heads, then uses the restraints on my ankles. I’m surprised at how little I can move after she’s done. She sees me struggle and she purrs, “German trust me!”
She had rolled the couch off to one side in order to secure one side of me and I mentioned that it took 3 men to get it into my office. “Maybe I’ll ask you to help the moving guys next time I redecorate my office,” I joke.
Mariah looks at me sternly. “Hmm, redecorating can be quite expensive!”
“Well, I’m not thinking about that soon,” knowing that was a bad slip.
“You’d redecorate before you give those girls a raise?” I’m now completely secured and a little worried now that I know I’ve pissed her off.
She retrieves the contract again and peruses it. “Are we back on that again? I thought we were just going to have a little fun, forget about that for a little while…” I start out a little annoyed, then realize that I’m not really holding any cards right now. She smiles, puts the contract down and walks over to the couch. She stands at the foot of the couch and slowly starts running her nails up and down across one foot, then the other.
“Hey!” I protest as I try to choke back laughter. “Hey! Come o-haha-on! This …ahh!…part of our de-hee-heal!” I’m very never now, as I’m helpless and hopelessly ticklish, and she had barely tried to tickle me.
She walks up to me and sits down, then swings her legs over either side of me, straddling my hips. “We really need to resolve this issue…” she says softly.
“I didn’t think we’d be discussing this under these circumstances…oh God!” I clench my teeth as she softly and slowly runs her nails along the bottom of my arms. The sensation is intense and she knows it. She stares unblinkingly at me as she continues those devilish ministrations, causing me to giggle and writhe helplessly beneath her.
“You remember Kassandra?’ she asks. “She told me how ticklish you are. It’s not a secret around the office anymore!” She speeds up her movements and my strength is sapped from me.
“Oh, God! I knew…hahahaha…I knew she was bad news…she swore to me she’d never tell anyone…”
“Are you saying she’s not a good person? Are you?”
“I don’t think she’s a very good person right now…” I manage to squeak before dissolving into total laughter. Mariah has move down to my ribs and has stepped up her attack.
“Mariah, please…don’t…ah-hahahaha” and my laughter seems to encourage her more. She experiments with my stomach, my ribs, my armpits. She pauses wherever she gets a good reaction (which is, to my dismay, often) and intensifies her attack on that area. Within a minute or two, I am in complete hysterics and can only babble an occasional protest.
“Isn’t this funny?” she asks, as she slows down a moment.
“No, it’s not funny. This isn’t fair, you know…” and I’m cut off by my own laughter again as she picks up where she left off. My ribs and stomach seems to be her favorite targets, and they’re good ones. As new waves of laughter escape my lips, she laughs herself and shouts ”I love it!”
She stops for a moment to let me catch my breath and I try to reason with her. “Look, let me go and we can discuss this reasonably! I see your point, I do…”
She interrupts me with “Want to hear a funny joke?” and she promptly begins tickling my ribs again. I buck and laugh, and agree “OK, OK, let’s hear a joke!”
“What’s the coldest part of a man’s body?”
She’s stopped tickling to let me answer, and is leaning back away from my upper body.
“I don’t know…the feet?” I guess.
“No…the balls, because they’re two below!” and she suddenly starts tickling them through my underwear and I scream, buck and laugh at the same time. “Isn’t that funny?” she asks as she continues the torture. The tickling sensation engulfs me and I am a completely helpless, ticklish mess in her hands. She keeps it up for a minute or so, enjoying my total agony.
“Yes!…It’s funny!…You’re hysterical!” I shout out between fits of laughter. When she lets up a
little again, I plead “Mariah! Please someone is bound to hear us! Please let me go!”
”German!” she intones, “You had this room sound-proofed! Remember? For your big top-secret meetings? Now how much did it cost to soundproof this room?” she asks as she leans down toward my feet. “You can scream at the top of your lungs,” as she starts to rake her nails across my soles, “and no one can hear a thing!” As I hear that, I struggle with renewed vigor, but I’m laughing too hard and am too tightly restrained to do much besides wriggle. It’s not enough to keep her from a devastating assault on my very ticklish feet.
She sits back up and purrs, “I enjoy torturing you!” as she starts to rubs her stockinged feet over my upper body. Her foot lingers on my face and I inhale deeply and rub my face against her sole.
Enjoying the sensation, I moan, “I love your stockings,” as I kiss the bottom of her feet.
“Aren’t they wonderful,”’ Mariah agrees. “and don’t you love how the garters that hold them up are hidden under the skirt? They kind of play hide-and-seek to tease you?” she smiles as she slowly lets her skirt ride up higher, revealing them. As I stare in unabashed longing, her hands reach out unbeknownst to me and she starts to run her spike heel into my armpit and down my ribs. I start to giggle but the feeling is pleasant, and I continue to rub against her soles.
“I’ve never been tickled by a heel before,” I say offhandedly.
“Never been tickled by a heel before? …Are you calling me a heel?” she says in mock anger. I’m suddenly gripped by another tickle attack on my stomach. Caught completely off-guard, this attack is especially effective and I violently arch my back off the couch in ticklish agony.
“No, I wasn’t! I swear to God I wasn’t!” I squeal to no avail.
She finally stops and I beg, ”Just let me kiss your feet for a while. I can be really attentive and loving to them! You’ll enjoy it! They’re really quite nice!” I babble on, seeking a reprieve.
“You like them?” she asks as she complies with my wish. She places both of her soles softly on my face and I service them with lips and tongue.
“Mmm, yes,” I moan pleasurably. “ I’ve always thought you had nice taste in heels around the office.” She lets me continue my foot-worship and slowly lays her body down, then slides down toward the other end of the couch.
“I think we need to pay more attention to your feet now,” she states.
“No, please, NOT my fee-eet!”
“Not your feet?” she asks with a glance toward me, and she then begins a savage attack on my right sole again. My body jerks side to side and up and down, and can get no relief from the intense tickling her nails are giving me.
“No please…no-hohoho!” I beg, and she suddenly stops.
“I’m sorry,” she says contritely. “I’m not giving your feet equal opportunity!” and she pounces on my left foot and instantly I’m back to hysterics. She is too good at this tickling mind game.
“Hey, let’s play ‘The Nanny’. You can call me Miss Fine and you’ve been bad, so I have to tickle you!” and she does. My mind is reeling from the intense tickling, the very short breaks, followed by more intense tickling.
As she continues, she says matter-of-factly, “It’s a little past 5:30 and the cleaning crew doesn’t come ‘til 7…”
“They’re early sometimes,” I manage, weakly. It does not deter her.
“I won’t stop torturing you until you agree to my terms!” Mariah states defiantly.
“You can tickle that out of me! You can’t!”
“Can’t?” she says angrily as she resumes a particularly vicious attack on my ribs and stomach. “Can’t isn’t in my dictionary! Never say you can’t! It’s not an option!”
I can’t argue, as nothing but raucous laughter is coming from my throat. She keeps it up for a minute or so before letting up a bit.
“You’ve done this before haven’t you? You’re too good to be new at this,” I groan, referring to the tickling.
“Tickle my boss before? What kind of girl do you think I am?” and she launches another upper-body attack. My reactions make her giggle with pleasure.
She stops again and gently rubs my face with her foot. Appreciatively, I kiss and rub against it.
“You know,” Mariah says whispers, “I’m a Gemini. I can be really nice…” and her foot continues to caress me, “Or I can be evil!” and she starts to tickle my feet again.
“Nice! Nice! Let’s see nice!”
“But the nice Gemini wants 15% for her girls?”
“Uh…will the evil Gemini take 5%?” I counter apprehensively.
Wordlessly, she tickles my stomach and I have my answer. She moves to other parts of my body, searching for unexplored areas to take advantage of.
“This can be very easily resolved…and I’ll stop tickling. Hmmm…” she is now near my feet again, “Maybe if I tickled one toe at a time…” and she starts with my big toe. One nail raking it up and down and the sensation is unlike any tickle yet. I’m going insane as she moves to the next toe, with equally devastating results.
”Not with those nails! Please!” I beg her.
“You can’t stand the nails, can you?” she seems pleased with her power over me. ”Kassandra was right about that, too! The girls certainly sent the right person for this job! So, how about that 15%?” She has started with her good Gemini persona again, and her feet are caressing my face again.
“Yes, more foot play! Please! Mmm!” as I adore and kiss her soles, hoping for mercy.
“You could get a lot more foot play if you’ll sign that contract,” and she reminds me of the other Gemini awaiting with a gentle tummy tickle. As she keeps it up, my laughter builds and, though I try desperately, I cannot keep up the foot worship. Sensing this, Mariah repositions herself and continues her soft tickling, gently using her nails over my stomach, ribs, armpits and upper arms. Despite the soft touch, the tickling is very real.
“Are my nails too much for you? Are my nails getting to you?” I can’t respond. “ Are they getting to you?” she repeats.
“Oh, God, yes! I don’t know if it tickles worse soft or hard!” I groan.
She smiles and places her feet back on my face. “There! You take care of my feet,” she offers as she lays herself down again, “And I’ll take care of your feet!” and her nails are once again all over my defenseless soles.
“I can’t do it! I can’t while you’re tickling me!” I protest between bouts of laughter.
“You have such a nice laugh, German,” she smiles. “I’m so amused by this!”
“Amused! This is terrible! Look – let me go, you can walk away and I’ll forget this ever happened!”
She turns around. “Why? What do I get out of it?” and she gently runs her nails over my belly in a threatening way. “Tell me the real reason you won’t give us 15%” She starts anew on my stomach and ribs, in what she knows now are my weakest points.
“Please no more tickles!” I gasp as my laughter, much weaker now from exhaustion, builds again.
“Come on, tell me, Mr. Drives-A-Jaguar to his house in the Hamptons!”
”I can’t tell you!” I try to fight the feeling, but I’m too weak.
“Mr. Giorgio Armani suits! Mr. Rolex watch! Life is so hard for you, huh?” she digs her fingers in deeper. ”Hmm? Why won’t you give us 15%?”
“Please…please…I beg you…stop!”
“Your begging just makes me want to do it more!”
“Oh God…what do you want me to do?”
“What do I want you to do?” she asks incredulously. She is continuing her attack in the same area and the tickling is worse than ever. Rather than becoming desensitized, the ticklish feelings are become more intense under her expert fingers. Now she digs in deeper styill, and I almost jump off the couch as my laughter screams out of me.
“What do I want you to do?” she repeats, “What have I been asking for the last forty minutes!”
“I can’t…”
“Short-term memory?” she asks as she moves down to my feet again. Her next assault this is more brutal than ever, and her nails are unbearable. My laughter for the last 5 minutes has been continuously at a fever pitch, and she shows no signs of tiring or letting up. She means business! “Is that it? Short-term memory? You know why we’re here! And you know that I can agree to 3% now and maybe more later. 15% now! Say yes!” She lets up just enough to let me answer.
I gulp in precious oxygen and pant, “I can’t! I’d like to but I can’t. If I do, I won’t get my bonus!…” The words had no sooner left my mouth than I realized I had just slipped up big time.
Mariah stopped in mid-tickle. “What did you say?” she asks as a very dark cloud comes over her face. She turns and has me now straddled firmly beneath her. “What did you say?” she demands loudly and angrily. I am now truly afraid of her.
“Nothing…I’m babbling…I don’t know what I just said…”
“Are you saying that my girls can’t get their raises so you can get your bonus?”
“It’s not that cut and dried, really, it’s complicated…” I never get to finish the sentence as the evil Gemini in her is now on steroids and is now digging her dingers and nails deep into the sides of my stomach, a proven weak spot, and seems to be tickling me to my very soul. My body is out of control, bucking in several directions at once and I can hear her distantly continuing to berate me.
“These girls work so hard and they can’t get what they deserve so you can get your bonus? How dare you! You better sign that contract!” After two minutes of non-stop torment, she finally stops.
I try one last ditch attempt to negotiate. “Look, I can give you 15%…I can give you 20%! Nobody deserves it more than you – but just you. It’ll be our secret! They don’t have to know!” As I see anger flash in her eyes, I quickly amend, ”And the others can still get their 3%! Everybody gets something! It’s a good compromise!”
No dice. The evil Gemini is still in the room with me, and she won’t stand for it. She goes back to my ribs and stomach and immediately I’m convulsing with laughter again. Very quickly, she switches to my feet and the change of venue has me reeling.
“Do you think I could go back there and tell them that all I could get them was 3%, knowing that I got more? Do you? And do you think I believe you won’t tell them? You’re lying to me! Say it! Admit you’re lying! Go on, say it!”
Her fingers across my soles are killing me and I find myself saying, ”Yes I’m lying! YES! OK! I’m lying! Please stop!”
“You’d better stop that contract if you want to get out of her!” she tells me as she turns around for one more attack on my ribs.
“Oh God! That might be the worst!”
“This spot right here? The ribs? Right here?” she taunts as she attacks that very spot. She then starts poking at them and the sides of my stomach and, somehow, the tickling intensifies.
And stupidly, the words come out of my mouth! “Oh, God! That’s even worse!”
“Really?” she smiles evilly as she pokes faster and deeper. I’m losing my mind.
She stops again to allow me to catch my breath and I find her nyloned soles back on my face.
Her feet caress my face and I quickly kiss and lick them gratefully. “Do you love my feet? Does German love my feet?”
“Yes, yes, I do…” I agree quickly, fearful of another attack like the one I’d just survived.
“Will you buy me all the shoes I want? Manolo Blahniks” Jimmy Choos?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll take you shopping…”
“Liar!” she shouts as she cuts me off and resumes her rib-tickling.
“No, I will! I swear!” and I dissolve into helpless laughter again.
She slows down a little, and I offer 10%. “The percent is a lot! That’s close to what they wanted!”
“I’ll give your tummy a rest…and go back down to your feet,” Mariah threatens.
“You can’t tickle me all night!”
“What do you mean ‘can’t’? I don’t know the word. I have no other plans tonight. My goal is to have the contract signed and that’s the only way you’re getting out of this!” and she starts on my feet again.
“Oh, please have mercy! Have mercy on me!”
She is now in my armpits again. “Mercy? What’s mercy? Just say you’ll sign it!”
“OK! OK! I’ll sign! Please stop!”
She stops, smiles, gets up and retrieves the folder triumphantly.
She sits next to me and reads the terms of the contract, including a renegotiation clause for August 2004. I do the math in my head and know that I can kiss my bonus goodbye. She pushes the contract and pen toward me and I sigh and hesitate. Mariah waits a long second, then I feel the wrath of her nails on my stomach again, quick and determined to make short work of me.
“OK! OK! No more tickles! I’ll sign! Please!” I plead.
She puts the pen in my right hand and, still bound, I awkwardly sign it.
“Date it,” she snaps, and I immediately do so, afraid any hesitation could result in another assault.
“My turn!” she gloats, and then signs herself as the witness.
Pleased, she closes inserts the contract back into its folder. “Now I’m going to lock it in my briefcase to make sure that you don’t try to tear it up!” and she does just that.
She begins to untie me, saying, “You did the right thing. You know the girls deserve it. And I think you’ll see a very happy staff, and you’ll probably see more beautiful heels and stockings. You know they like to look good, and now they can afford to.”
“And where did you learn how to tickle like that? And those nails! My God!”
Mariah laughs. “You need to have an MBA to know how to tickle?”
I’m now free, and I tell her, “Well, you got what you wanted, and since you tortured me for so long, I want to have a little foot play to start my weekend off right.” I put out a mat and have her lay back on it, then raise her legs up into the air.
“This is a little kinky,” she says as I bring over a barstool and position her legs against the back of them. I use the restraints to secure her ankles to the back of the stool and, when I sit backwards on the seat, her feet are right in front of me.
“What are you going to do?” she asks as I sit down.
“Well, I’m just going to admire these legs,” as I stroke her calves, “and feet,” as I slowly pop off one heel and then the other. She wiggles her toes reflexively and I smile as I stare down at her soles, now helplessly tied before me. I begin to softly stroke her toes, and her heels, and then introduce a little bit of my nail. She giggles, but tries to stifle it. I use a little more of my nails and I begin more of a definite tickling motion. Her giggles increase and she begins trying to move her feet away. Her eyes show a glimmer of fear as she realizes how vulnerable her feet are.
“Now don’t tell me,” I say as I look down into her face, ”that this master tickler is ticklish herself! That wouldn’t be true, would it?” I glide my fingers more briskly along her soles and am rewarded by a yelp and a lovely, musical laughter.
I am grinning from ear to ear now as I begin to aggressively stroke her feet. Her laughter builds and she arches her back. I see her upper-body thrust upward, then collapse back onto the mat as her body convulses with laughter. Her reinforced heel-and-toe nylons look lovely on her size 10 feet, and there is a lot of foot to tickle. Her toes, the balls of her feet and the arch all feel my fingers and nails as I look to find her weakest spot. After a few minutes, she is sufficiently weakened and I feel confident that I can reposition her.
I quickly unclip the restraints form the stool and have her get up. I push her toward the couch and quickly get her ankles clips into position as she lies there, panting.
I get on the couch and straddle her hips. Her arms aren’t tied, but she has her arms over her head. As I move my hands toward them she says, “You’re not going to tickle my pits, are you?”
“Oh yes, I am!” and the results are magical! She immediately begins laughing hysterically and rocking from side to side.
“No more! No More!”
“You think I’m crazy?” I ask as I don’t let up at all and she screams and laughs with every slight change of position.
My fingers then slide down to her ribs and the reaction there is just as rewarding! This girl knows how and where to tickle because she’s that ticklish herself! That information will come in handy at the office! As I continue to explore her upper body, I manage to slide my hands under her sweater and pull it up. Her leopard print bra is heaving and her delicious olive skin is soft. I admire it for a moment, then begin tickling her exposed ribs and tummy. Her laughter fills then room and I am delighted with the musical quality of it. I am intoxicated by the power of my fingers, and the helplessness of my victim, and I am physically excited by it all.
After a few minutes, I get down from the couch and walk down to her feet. I had put her shoes back on and I admire how they look on her stockinged legs. I lean over and slowly pull on the right on. Her lovely arch is now exposed, and I can see the reinforcements of the heel. I stroke her feet: half massage, half tickle and I find it impossible not to get more excited. I indulge myself as I rub my face against her feet, kissing, stroking, smelling…and I soon lose control of myself as she moans and giggles softly.
When I recover, I release her and thank her for a wonderful session. She was quite the hardnosed contract mediator - I had met my match at the negotiating table.
from the quill of the Westchester Tickler
Ticklish Exec
Mariah walks in and sits at the desk. "Hello, Mr. Blank," she begins.
"German, please," I correct her. “I try to be less formal at the office than most senior management.”
"German," she smiles as she puts down her briefcase. "I know it’s a sore point, but I need to talk to you one last time on behalf of these office assistants. They really need at least a 15% raise if they're going to stay here." She slowly and deliberately crosses her long, stockinged leg and begins to let her shoe dangle from her foot. Despite myself, I glance at her arches, then can’t turn my eyes away.
“I…uh, thought we had discussed this completely and…” as I’m distracted by her dangling shoe display, “we determined there really wasn’t…wasn’t much I could do.”
“Are you sure?” she asks leadingly.
“Well, yeah, I mean…I have a really strict budget this year and…I can allow a little increase for inflation, but…that’s really about it.” Mariah has now crossed her legs the other way and I have a clear view of her arch as she dangles and leans in closer. I realize that I’m not as much in control as I’d like to be.
“Are you looking at my feet?” she asks suddenly, and I realize that I’ve been staring at the hypnotic circles she’s been making with her heels, rotating her foot in the air while expertly dangling the shoe from her toes.
“I…was just admiring your shoes,” I stammer as I try to recover. “I was about to compliment you on them.” Does she suspect…
“Hmm, that’s interesting because I heard from an old girlfriend of yours that you have kind of a…thing…for feet,” she says while staring at my face for a reaction, “heels…stockings…” she continues, emphasizing each word, each object that I have a weakness for.
“I don’t know where you heard that,” I reply breathlessly, “I don’t know what your source is, but…” This is bad. She knew all of this going in and was using it against me as leverage to negotiate!
“Are you sure about that? Come on, German, I’ve seen how you’ve looked at my feet since I sat down and crossed my legs.”
“There…might be some truth to that,” I admit, hoping to put the issue to rest and regain control of this meeting, “but it’s not appropriate in an office environment…”
Mariah readjusts her position on the settee, sitting a little further away. I am about to breath a sigh of relief when she slowly swings one leg over and onto my knees. I stare at her leg in disbelief when she pops her heel off and dangles her shoe again, her exposed sole just 18 inches from my face. “I don’t know…I’ve been watching you looking at me, and I think it’s true what she said. You DO have a thing for feet…don’t you?”
I hesitate, knowing I have to be cautious.
“You know, 15% can get you a lot of foot play in this office.” She’s dropped a bombshell, but I can’t be too quick to jump on this…
“Well, perhaps we can talk about this further and see where it may lead…”
“So you’re admitting you like my feet?”
“I’ve always admired good designer shoes…I wouldn’t say I have a ‘thing’…”
She places her other leg in my lap and adds, ”That 15% can get you very far in this office.”
“Well, that does sound kind of interesting,” I admit slowly. Mariah has now gone into full leg show mode, with both legs on my lap, rubbing against each, dangling both shoes, crossing and re-crossing them.
She looks at me expectantly, and I come back to my senses. “No, I’m sorry. I just can’t do 15%.”
She swings her legs away and stands up. I’ve held firm despite her knowing my weakness.
“Oh, German,” she sighs, “You’re disappointing me! “ She pulls a folder from her briefcase. “I wrote up this contract for you to sign. I was resolved to not leave until you signed!”
“Look, I hate to disappoint. I’ll talk to the regional VP and see if there’s a little more I can do.”
“Well, thank you, German. Come here and stand up.” As I approach, she starts to undo my tie. I hesitate.
“I’m not sure…”
“The door is locked and you know this room is soundproof. It’s after 5, it’s a long weekend, there’s no one here. The cleaning crew doesn’t show up until 7.” She continued to undress me, taking off my short, shoes and pants. She was seated on chair, with her legs crossed, continuing her tease.
“You know, I never understood toe cleavage when I was young. But now I do. Look, it’s like breast cleavage…but with toes. Isn’t that sexy?”
I agree, my eyes draw to her feet and shoes once more. She walks me over to the couch (actually, the bondage table) and she has me lie on it. She pulls out ropes and leather restraints and I balk.
“I just want to make you safe and secure. Haven’t you ever been tried down before? Come on! You can be a little kinky, can’t you?” she asks teasingly.
7“Well, OK, I’ll go along with this for a bit. I’m not as stiff as some people say, you know.”
She ties my hands to the posts above my heads, then uses the restraints on my ankles. I’m surprised at how little I can move after she’s done. She sees me struggle and she purrs, “German trust me!”
She had rolled the couch off to one side in order to secure one side of me and I mentioned that it took 3 men to get it into my office. “Maybe I’ll ask you to help the moving guys next time I redecorate my office,” I joke.
Mariah looks at me sternly. “Hmm, redecorating can be quite expensive!”
“Well, I’m not thinking about that soon,” knowing that was a bad slip.
“You’d redecorate before you give those girls a raise?” I’m now completely secured and a little worried now that I know I’ve pissed her off.
She retrieves the contract again and peruses it. “Are we back on that again? I thought we were just going to have a little fun, forget about that for a little while…” I start out a little annoyed, then realize that I’m not really holding any cards right now. She smiles, puts the contract down and walks over to the couch. She stands at the foot of the couch and slowly starts running her nails up and down across one foot, then the other.
“Hey!” I protest as I try to choke back laughter. “Hey! Come o-haha-on! This …ahh!…part of our de-hee-heal!” I’m very never now, as I’m helpless and hopelessly ticklish, and she had barely tried to tickle me.
She walks up to me and sits down, then swings her legs over either side of me, straddling my hips. “We really need to resolve this issue…” she says softly.
“I didn’t think we’d be discussing this under these circumstances…oh God!” I clench my teeth as she softly and slowly runs her nails along the bottom of my arms. The sensation is intense and she knows it. She stares unblinkingly at me as she continues those devilish ministrations, causing me to giggle and writhe helplessly beneath her.
“You remember Kassandra?’ she asks. “She told me how ticklish you are. It’s not a secret around the office anymore!” She speeds up her movements and my strength is sapped from me.
“Oh, God! I knew…hahahaha…I knew she was bad news…she swore to me she’d never tell anyone…”
“Are you saying she’s not a good person? Are you?”
“I don’t think she’s a very good person right now…” I manage to squeak before dissolving into total laughter. Mariah has move down to my ribs and has stepped up her attack.
“Mariah, please…don’t…ah-hahahaha” and my laughter seems to encourage her more. She experiments with my stomach, my ribs, my armpits. She pauses wherever she gets a good reaction (which is, to my dismay, often) and intensifies her attack on that area. Within a minute or two, I am in complete hysterics and can only babble an occasional protest.
“Isn’t this funny?” she asks, as she slows down a moment.
“No, it’s not funny. This isn’t fair, you know…” and I’m cut off by my own laughter again as she picks up where she left off. My ribs and stomach seems to be her favorite targets, and they’re good ones. As new waves of laughter escape my lips, she laughs herself and shouts ”I love it!”
She stops for a moment to let me catch my breath and I try to reason with her. “Look, let me go and we can discuss this reasonably! I see your point, I do…”
She interrupts me with “Want to hear a funny joke?” and she promptly begins tickling my ribs again. I buck and laugh, and agree “OK, OK, let’s hear a joke!”
“What’s the coldest part of a man’s body?”
She’s stopped tickling to let me answer, and is leaning back away from my upper body.
“I don’t know…the feet?” I guess.
“No…the balls, because they’re two below!” and she suddenly starts tickling them through my underwear and I scream, buck and laugh at the same time. “Isn’t that funny?” she asks as she continues the torture. The tickling sensation engulfs me and I am a completely helpless, ticklish mess in her hands. She keeps it up for a minute or so, enjoying my total agony.
“Yes!…It’s funny!…You’re hysterical!” I shout out between fits of laughter. When she lets up a
little again, I plead “Mariah! Please someone is bound to hear us! Please let me go!”
”German!” she intones, “You had this room sound-proofed! Remember? For your big top-secret meetings? Now how much did it cost to soundproof this room?” she asks as she leans down toward my feet. “You can scream at the top of your lungs,” as she starts to rake her nails across my soles, “and no one can hear a thing!” As I hear that, I struggle with renewed vigor, but I’m laughing too hard and am too tightly restrained to do much besides wriggle. It’s not enough to keep her from a devastating assault on my very ticklish feet.
She sits back up and purrs, “I enjoy torturing you!” as she starts to rubs her stockinged feet over my upper body. Her foot lingers on my face and I inhale deeply and rub my face against her sole.
Enjoying the sensation, I moan, “I love your stockings,” as I kiss the bottom of her feet.
“Aren’t they wonderful,”’ Mariah agrees. “and don’t you love how the garters that hold them up are hidden under the skirt? They kind of play hide-and-seek to tease you?” she smiles as she slowly lets her skirt ride up higher, revealing them. As I stare in unabashed longing, her hands reach out unbeknownst to me and she starts to run her spike heel into my armpit and down my ribs. I start to giggle but the feeling is pleasant, and I continue to rub against her soles.
“I’ve never been tickled by a heel before,” I say offhandedly.
“Never been tickled by a heel before? …Are you calling me a heel?” she says in mock anger. I’m suddenly gripped by another tickle attack on my stomach. Caught completely off-guard, this attack is especially effective and I violently arch my back off the couch in ticklish agony.
“No, I wasn’t! I swear to God I wasn’t!” I squeal to no avail.
She finally stops and I beg, ”Just let me kiss your feet for a while. I can be really attentive and loving to them! You’ll enjoy it! They’re really quite nice!” I babble on, seeking a reprieve.
“You like them?” she asks as she complies with my wish. She places both of her soles softly on my face and I service them with lips and tongue.
“Mmm, yes,” I moan pleasurably. “ I’ve always thought you had nice taste in heels around the office.” She lets me continue my foot-worship and slowly lays her body down, then slides down toward the other end of the couch.
“I think we need to pay more attention to your feet now,” she states.
“No, please, NOT my fee-eet!”
“Not your feet?” she asks with a glance toward me, and she then begins a savage attack on my right sole again. My body jerks side to side and up and down, and can get no relief from the intense tickling her nails are giving me.
“No please…no-hohoho!” I beg, and she suddenly stops.
“I’m sorry,” she says contritely. “I’m not giving your feet equal opportunity!” and she pounces on my left foot and instantly I’m back to hysterics. She is too good at this tickling mind game.
“Hey, let’s play ‘The Nanny’. You can call me Miss Fine and you’ve been bad, so I have to tickle you!” and she does. My mind is reeling from the intense tickling, the very short breaks, followed by more intense tickling.
As she continues, she says matter-of-factly, “It’s a little past 5:30 and the cleaning crew doesn’t come ‘til 7…”
“They’re early sometimes,” I manage, weakly. It does not deter her.
“I won’t stop torturing you until you agree to my terms!” Mariah states defiantly.
“You can tickle that out of me! You can’t!”
“Can’t?” she says angrily as she resumes a particularly vicious attack on my ribs and stomach. “Can’t isn’t in my dictionary! Never say you can’t! It’s not an option!”
I can’t argue, as nothing but raucous laughter is coming from my throat. She keeps it up for a minute or so before letting up a bit.
“You’ve done this before haven’t you? You’re too good to be new at this,” I groan, referring to the tickling.
“Tickle my boss before? What kind of girl do you think I am?” and she launches another upper-body attack. My reactions make her giggle with pleasure.
She stops again and gently rubs my face with her foot. Appreciatively, I kiss and rub against it.
“You know,” Mariah says whispers, “I’m a Gemini. I can be really nice…” and her foot continues to caress me, “Or I can be evil!” and she starts to tickle my feet again.
“Nice! Nice! Let’s see nice!”
“But the nice Gemini wants 15% for her girls?”
“Uh…will the evil Gemini take 5%?” I counter apprehensively.
Wordlessly, she tickles my stomach and I have my answer. She moves to other parts of my body, searching for unexplored areas to take advantage of.
“This can be very easily resolved…and I’ll stop tickling. Hmmm…” she is now near my feet again, “Maybe if I tickled one toe at a time…” and she starts with my big toe. One nail raking it up and down and the sensation is unlike any tickle yet. I’m going insane as she moves to the next toe, with equally devastating results.
”Not with those nails! Please!” I beg her.
“You can’t stand the nails, can you?” she seems pleased with her power over me. ”Kassandra was right about that, too! The girls certainly sent the right person for this job! So, how about that 15%?” She has started with her good Gemini persona again, and her feet are caressing my face again.
“Yes, more foot play! Please! Mmm!” as I adore and kiss her soles, hoping for mercy.
“You could get a lot more foot play if you’ll sign that contract,” and she reminds me of the other Gemini awaiting with a gentle tummy tickle. As she keeps it up, my laughter builds and, though I try desperately, I cannot keep up the foot worship. Sensing this, Mariah repositions herself and continues her soft tickling, gently using her nails over my stomach, ribs, armpits and upper arms. Despite the soft touch, the tickling is very real.
“Are my nails too much for you? Are my nails getting to you?” I can’t respond. “ Are they getting to you?” she repeats.
“Oh, God, yes! I don’t know if it tickles worse soft or hard!” I groan.
She smiles and places her feet back on my face. “There! You take care of my feet,” she offers as she lays herself down again, “And I’ll take care of your feet!” and her nails are once again all over my defenseless soles.
“I can’t do it! I can’t while you’re tickling me!” I protest between bouts of laughter.
“You have such a nice laugh, German,” she smiles. “I’m so amused by this!”
“Amused! This is terrible! Look – let me go, you can walk away and I’ll forget this ever happened!”
She turns around. “Why? What do I get out of it?” and she gently runs her nails over my belly in a threatening way. “Tell me the real reason you won’t give us 15%” She starts anew on my stomach and ribs, in what she knows now are my weakest points.
“Please no more tickles!” I gasp as my laughter, much weaker now from exhaustion, builds again.
“Come on, tell me, Mr. Drives-A-Jaguar to his house in the Hamptons!”
”I can’t tell you!” I try to fight the feeling, but I’m too weak.
“Mr. Giorgio Armani suits! Mr. Rolex watch! Life is so hard for you, huh?” she digs her fingers in deeper. ”Hmm? Why won’t you give us 15%?”
“Please…please…I beg you…stop!”
“Your begging just makes me want to do it more!”
“Oh God…what do you want me to do?”
“What do I want you to do?” she asks incredulously. She is continuing her attack in the same area and the tickling is worse than ever. Rather than becoming desensitized, the ticklish feelings are become more intense under her expert fingers. Now she digs in deeper styill, and I almost jump off the couch as my laughter screams out of me.
“What do I want you to do?” she repeats, “What have I been asking for the last forty minutes!”
“I can’t…”
“Short-term memory?” she asks as she moves down to my feet again. Her next assault this is more brutal than ever, and her nails are unbearable. My laughter for the last 5 minutes has been continuously at a fever pitch, and she shows no signs of tiring or letting up. She means business! “Is that it? Short-term memory? You know why we’re here! And you know that I can agree to 3% now and maybe more later. 15% now! Say yes!” She lets up just enough to let me answer.
I gulp in precious oxygen and pant, “I can’t! I’d like to but I can’t. If I do, I won’t get my bonus!…” The words had no sooner left my mouth than I realized I had just slipped up big time.
Mariah stopped in mid-tickle. “What did you say?” she asks as a very dark cloud comes over her face. She turns and has me now straddled firmly beneath her. “What did you say?” she demands loudly and angrily. I am now truly afraid of her.
“Nothing…I’m babbling…I don’t know what I just said…”
“Are you saying that my girls can’t get their raises so you can get your bonus?”
“It’s not that cut and dried, really, it’s complicated…” I never get to finish the sentence as the evil Gemini in her is now on steroids and is now digging her dingers and nails deep into the sides of my stomach, a proven weak spot, and seems to be tickling me to my very soul. My body is out of control, bucking in several directions at once and I can hear her distantly continuing to berate me.
“These girls work so hard and they can’t get what they deserve so you can get your bonus? How dare you! You better sign that contract!” After two minutes of non-stop torment, she finally stops.
I try one last ditch attempt to negotiate. “Look, I can give you 15%…I can give you 20%! Nobody deserves it more than you – but just you. It’ll be our secret! They don’t have to know!” As I see anger flash in her eyes, I quickly amend, ”And the others can still get their 3%! Everybody gets something! It’s a good compromise!”
No dice. The evil Gemini is still in the room with me, and she won’t stand for it. She goes back to my ribs and stomach and immediately I’m convulsing with laughter again. Very quickly, she switches to my feet and the change of venue has me reeling.
“Do you think I could go back there and tell them that all I could get them was 3%, knowing that I got more? Do you? And do you think I believe you won’t tell them? You’re lying to me! Say it! Admit you’re lying! Go on, say it!”
Her fingers across my soles are killing me and I find myself saying, ”Yes I’m lying! YES! OK! I’m lying! Please stop!”
“You’d better stop that contract if you want to get out of her!” she tells me as she turns around for one more attack on my ribs.
“Oh God! That might be the worst!”
“This spot right here? The ribs? Right here?” she taunts as she attacks that very spot. She then starts poking at them and the sides of my stomach and, somehow, the tickling intensifies.
And stupidly, the words come out of my mouth! “Oh, God! That’s even worse!”
“Really?” she smiles evilly as she pokes faster and deeper. I’m losing my mind.
She stops again to allow me to catch my breath and I find her nyloned soles back on my face.
Her feet caress my face and I quickly kiss and lick them gratefully. “Do you love my feet? Does German love my feet?”
“Yes, yes, I do…” I agree quickly, fearful of another attack like the one I’d just survived.
“Will you buy me all the shoes I want? Manolo Blahniks” Jimmy Choos?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll take you shopping…”
“Liar!” she shouts as she cuts me off and resumes her rib-tickling.
“No, I will! I swear!” and I dissolve into helpless laughter again.
She slows down a little, and I offer 10%. “The percent is a lot! That’s close to what they wanted!”
“I’ll give your tummy a rest…and go back down to your feet,” Mariah threatens.
“You can’t tickle me all night!”
“What do you mean ‘can’t’? I don’t know the word. I have no other plans tonight. My goal is to have the contract signed and that’s the only way you’re getting out of this!” and she starts on my feet again.
“Oh, please have mercy! Have mercy on me!”
She is now in my armpits again. “Mercy? What’s mercy? Just say you’ll sign it!”
“OK! OK! I’ll sign! Please stop!”
She stops, smiles, gets up and retrieves the folder triumphantly.
She sits next to me and reads the terms of the contract, including a renegotiation clause for August 2004. I do the math in my head and know that I can kiss my bonus goodbye. She pushes the contract and pen toward me and I sigh and hesitate. Mariah waits a long second, then I feel the wrath of her nails on my stomach again, quick and determined to make short work of me.
“OK! OK! No more tickles! I’ll sign! Please!” I plead.
She puts the pen in my right hand and, still bound, I awkwardly sign it.
“Date it,” she snaps, and I immediately do so, afraid any hesitation could result in another assault.
“My turn!” she gloats, and then signs herself as the witness.
Pleased, she closes inserts the contract back into its folder. “Now I’m going to lock it in my briefcase to make sure that you don’t try to tear it up!” and she does just that.
She begins to untie me, saying, “You did the right thing. You know the girls deserve it. And I think you’ll see a very happy staff, and you’ll probably see more beautiful heels and stockings. You know they like to look good, and now they can afford to.”
“And where did you learn how to tickle like that? And those nails! My God!”
Mariah laughs. “You need to have an MBA to know how to tickle?”
I’m now free, and I tell her, “Well, you got what you wanted, and since you tortured me for so long, I want to have a little foot play to start my weekend off right.” I put out a mat and have her lay back on it, then raise her legs up into the air.
“This is a little kinky,” she says as I bring over a barstool and position her legs against the back of them. I use the restraints to secure her ankles to the back of the stool and, when I sit backwards on the seat, her feet are right in front of me.
“What are you going to do?” she asks as I sit down.
“Well, I’m just going to admire these legs,” as I stroke her calves, “and feet,” as I slowly pop off one heel and then the other. She wiggles her toes reflexively and I smile as I stare down at her soles, now helplessly tied before me. I begin to softly stroke her toes, and her heels, and then introduce a little bit of my nail. She giggles, but tries to stifle it. I use a little more of my nails and I begin more of a definite tickling motion. Her giggles increase and she begins trying to move her feet away. Her eyes show a glimmer of fear as she realizes how vulnerable her feet are.
“Now don’t tell me,” I say as I look down into her face, ”that this master tickler is ticklish herself! That wouldn’t be true, would it?” I glide my fingers more briskly along her soles and am rewarded by a yelp and a lovely, musical laughter.
I am grinning from ear to ear now as I begin to aggressively stroke her feet. Her laughter builds and she arches her back. I see her upper-body thrust upward, then collapse back onto the mat as her body convulses with laughter. Her reinforced heel-and-toe nylons look lovely on her size 10 feet, and there is a lot of foot to tickle. Her toes, the balls of her feet and the arch all feel my fingers and nails as I look to find her weakest spot. After a few minutes, she is sufficiently weakened and I feel confident that I can reposition her.
I quickly unclip the restraints form the stool and have her get up. I push her toward the couch and quickly get her ankles clips into position as she lies there, panting.
I get on the couch and straddle her hips. Her arms aren’t tied, but she has her arms over her head. As I move my hands toward them she says, “You’re not going to tickle my pits, are you?”
“Oh yes, I am!” and the results are magical! She immediately begins laughing hysterically and rocking from side to side.
“No more! No More!”
“You think I’m crazy?” I ask as I don’t let up at all and she screams and laughs with every slight change of position.
My fingers then slide down to her ribs and the reaction there is just as rewarding! This girl knows how and where to tickle because she’s that ticklish herself! That information will come in handy at the office! As I continue to explore her upper body, I manage to slide my hands under her sweater and pull it up. Her leopard print bra is heaving and her delicious olive skin is soft. I admire it for a moment, then begin tickling her exposed ribs and tummy. Her laughter fills then room and I am delighted with the musical quality of it. I am intoxicated by the power of my fingers, and the helplessness of my victim, and I am physically excited by it all.
After a few minutes, I get down from the couch and walk down to her feet. I had put her shoes back on and I admire how they look on her stockinged legs. I lean over and slowly pull on the right on. Her lovely arch is now exposed, and I can see the reinforcements of the heel. I stroke her feet: half massage, half tickle and I find it impossible not to get more excited. I indulge myself as I rub my face against her feet, kissing, stroking, smelling…and I soon lose control of myself as she moans and giggles softly.
When I recover, I release her and thank her for a wonderful session. She was quite the hardnosed contract mediator - I had met my match at the negotiating table.
from the quill of the Westchester Tickler
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