The Executive (F/M)

The Executive (F/M)


**Authors Note:* This is a work of fiction. Any similarities in incidents or likenesses of characters is purely coincidental. This story contains female on male tickling and strong sexual themes including: foot fetish, bondage, and tickling. There is some brief m/f tickling as well

24 year old college graduate and already scored an office job.(Okay, so I’m an intern) I shouldn’t give the name of my company, seeing as I would have to pay a bunch of royalties to the name, buncha tight-asses. Anyway, they say you should always get in good to your superior officers, and I think that I got in REALLY good with the company executive, Michelle Maimatsu.

Part 1 “First Encounter”
Her real name was Misato Maimatsu, but since most people had trouble saying it she went by Michelle, that is by the people of her rank that were allowed to call her by her first name. At most, she’d let you get away with Ms. M. I had just been hired the week before, and was still in the process of moving in to my new cubicle when we met. She was walking really fast down the hall, shoulders stiff, legs close together. She had to pee. As fate would have it, the executive bathroom was out of order and she had to use the employee bathroom. She walked into the women’s bathroom and walked out in a second or two. I’m not sure why, but she couldn’t use that bathroom either. So, desperate to relieve herself of bodily fluids, she went to the men's room. I was the only one in the men’s room at the time, taking a leak and whistling a tune. I looked over my shoulder and saw her walk in. She looked at me, pretended not to care though I knew she was embarrassed and went to a stall, the one right next to the urinal I was standing at. I heard her tear a seat cover from the box on top of the toilet and hastily place it properly. I saw her feet, clad in white nylons and black heels, turn toward the door as she sat. Her panties dropped and I heard the light tinkling sound of female urination. I was a bit shy to talk to someone so confident and powerful, and more scared of slipping up and saying something that would get my ass fired.
She was doing some heavy leaking, either that or she was just trying not to let it all out in one big, noisy stream, cuz she stayed there for about ten minutes. I watched her feet, standing at the urinal, having finished my own business long ago. She obviously got uncomfortable in her heels, because she slid them off and let her petite size 9’s breathe. I almost gasped out loud as I saw them. Clad in White nylons, whether they were pantyhose or stockings I wasn’t sure, but either way, they were quite stunning. Long fore toe, black toenail polish (now that I think about it, her fingernails were the same color) shining through the sheer fabric, high arches and heels that melted into the soles. Yes, I have a foot fetish, but that isn’t what’s important right now. I deduced that she must be wearing stockings because she’d have to pull panty hose down while taking a leak. I unconsciously began stroking my member, still hanging out over the urinal with my had on the shaft. I was woken from my aroused trance by the sound of a toilet flushing and the executive in the stall beside me quickly sweeping her feet back into her heels. She stood and walked out of the stall and I began top zip up. She went to the sink and washed her hands and for the first time I was able to take a good look at her. In the mirror I saw her pristine face, no make up, eyeliner maybe, thin, dark eyes, full but thin lips all upon a cherubic face in a harmonized natural beauty. Her hair was red, dark red, with black roots, and it hung to about shoulder length. It neatly combed backward with one stray tendril of hair hanging in front of her face. Her skin looked healthy but was a tad pale. She had an earring, a stud, in the upper part of her right ear. I looked at her body, about 5’5 in height, an inch sorter than me, slim build, wearing a white silk blouse and black skirt. Something about the way she was dressed made me think of a prep school a girl, she looked about 20-25. It took me a while to realize she was still in the room, her hands still wet but the water wasn’t running (it was one of those self-turning-off type sinks) and that she was looking at me looking at her in the mirror. Once this hit me, I averted my eyes, embarrassed and moved to the sink about three faucets down from her (I would’ve moved further but there are only four sinks in the bathroom). I washed my hands quickly and took a few paper towels and dried my hands. She did the same on her end and we tried not to make eye contact.
She was clearly as embarrassed about this whole ordeal as I was. The rest of the day, she didn’t look at me, not that she came out of her office much anyway, but it was still a little unnerving; like a child whose parent caught them doing something they shouldn’t have but didn’t say anything about it until they got a whoopin’.(Not that I wouldn’t mind getting a spanking from her...) At about five thirty, 30 minutes till I punched out, a woman in a vibrant pink skirt and blouse (slightly less attractive that the exec.) told me that Ms. M wanted to see me. I walked nervously to her office and one of the buddies I made at work, Jackson, whistled a “dead man walking” tune as I passed. I flipped him the bird and we laughed for a moment until I realized he might’ve been right. I walked apprehensively into her office, and was astounded at what I saw. She sat in her rolling-turning chair, empty heels under her desk, feet propped up on the desk calendar. She was reading a book, a rather large book, the kind of book you use to hide the fact that you’re reading a magazine during office hours. She made no move to put her book down, no move to put down her feet, she looked over the book, reading glasses adding additional authority to her appearance; black frames that came to a kind of point on the outer edges. Only her eyes were visible from behind the book. I walked closer to her desk, trying to keep myself from getting hard right in front of her looked at the floor, and trying my hardest to keep my voice from shaking, I addressed her. “Yes, Ms. Maimatsu?” I couldn’t help but look up at her while I spoke to her, it was only to be respectful, but the moment I did so she uncrossed her legs and re-crossed them oppositely. Her feet were now hanging off the edge of her desk, and I got hard despite my efforts. She looked down casually at my erection, then back at me. She shut her book, and from the way it closed, leaving a serrated gap in the middle I was right in assuming there was a mag there.
“About earlier today... ” She said, softly, not in a quipping tone that she usually used. “...the men’s room incident. Let’s keep that between us. I really don’t need rumors of what happened there to get spread around, it would really hurt my reputation.”
“ I understand” I said obediently trying to keep my attention on her face but, dammit, they were right there! Hanging there menacingly, like a steak on a hook in front of a starving dog, the only thing dividing them is the dog’s will. A steak couldn’t fire a dog for licking it though. My erection was growing stronger, causing a a tent to form in my dress pants. I knew I should’ve worn briefs today. She gauged it as well, and a kind of wonder came over her face, a slight smile as she looked at it, then at me. “May I be excused?” I said shakily, turning to leave. “Not quite yet. I have something to ask you...” I turned back around, careful not to knock anything off her desk.
“Do my feet turn you on?” She asked dreamily. I gaped at her, pulled a hair out of my arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “Uhh... well... Its your legs I was looking at. I apologize.”
“You’re lying.” She quipped softly. I blushed. “The many times I’ve called you here, you always watch under my desk, and when I pass you in the hall you plainly see my legs but its never had... that reaction before.”
She was as deductive, if not more than, I was. I couldn’t help feeling embarrassed as I averted my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little fetish.” She said seductively, feet sliding forward toward my hard-on. I waited, stood there like a dog on stay command. Then her feet drew back and went under her desk into her heels. She looked at her watch and calmly exclaimed “Oh, its almost six o’ clock. Your shift is almost over. Better go get your things. Don’t worry, take some time to... um ... cool off.” She nodded toward a small refrigerator in the corner of the room. I walked to it and found and ice pack. She said it was okay to use it, and I placed it on my attentive member as she began packing her brief case. It took a few minutes, but I was limp again and began to walk out of her office. She called after me as I opened the door. “Be sure to have those papers on my desk ASAP, Mr.*Relent<*” I nodded.

Part 2 “Getting To ‘Know’ Your Officers”
I was on the elevator to the ground floor, heading home I guess. I stood alone in the elevator, having stayed 10 minutes after 6 most of my fellow workers had left already. I reminisced about the executive. Her feet almost touched my... stop. Don’t need to get hard AGAIN today. The elevator was moving up, someone else leaving late must be trying to get on this elevator. I was almost home-free too. I sighed to myself. The door opened and a woman stepped in wearing a black business jacket, black skirt, white nylons...
The exec! Oh sh*t!! I looked up hastily as she stepped in. She smiled at me, something I hadn’t see her do too often to be quite honest. “Fancy meeting you here.” She said cheerfully. I made a nervous response that I don’t remember. The five minutes it took to get to the ground floor from the 15th seemed like a short eternity. We made small talk, but my mind was elsewhere, about 5 and a half feet lower. I was beginning to resent her high-heeled shoes. She stopped talking, and I realized this after about thirty seconds. She was looking at me look at her feet, her familiar, slight smile on her pristine face. That's when the conversation shifted to my fetish. “So, what about feet arouses you?” I was a little rattled by the question and made a respectful retaliation. “What about my fetish interest you?”
“I asked a question first” Damn. I was hoping to avoid the subject. I was honest, I told her I didn’t know why pretty feet got me so aroused, they just did.
“So, you think my feet are pretty?” she chuckled.
“Well yeah.” I scoffed. “They are very nice.” I added respectfully.
She looked at the meter on the wall near the ceiling of the elevator. We were on the fourth floor, third, second, ground. We stepped out. I walked beside her, or did she walk beside me, maybe we both just had the same destination, I don’t know, but we wound up in a restraint chatting. I guess you could call it a spontaneous date.
It was a japanese restraunt, wouldn’t feel right about usin’ its name in this story either. We tried sushi and sat way to the back in one of those private rooms for important people. We had to take our shoes off at the door and got cards and all that good crap to pick them up later. I hoped somehow, a mishap would occur and they’d keep those damned heels of hers. Anyway, we sat on the floor at a low table, traditional japanese etiquette (not saying I knew much about it). We ordered a bunch of sushi with names I couldn’t pronounce, so she ordered for me, and these kinds of resteraunts take forever to get your food to you so it was a good thing we weren’t that hungry yet. On the plus side, we got a lot of alone time to talk. She was a lot more fun of a person outside of work. She joked about our boss a lot, mostly about how fake his toupee’ was and his shiny forehead. She was actually quite the comedian and we spent a good deal of the time laughing our asses off. An appetizer arrived, a fried shrimp platter of some kind. I ate most of it, Misato said that she was saving her appetite. It was kinda cool to be able to call her by her first name. Her legs got cramped sitting at the low table and she stretched her legs out. I was sitting cross-legged, and she placed her toes right on my package. She quickly retracted her legs, and there was a bulge left where her feet had been.” Oh I’m sorry. Wait, you’re into that sort of thing aren’t you.” she joked. I was stunned but replied in good humor. “Well, I can’t say I’m not grateful for your little ‘oops’.” we laughed. and then the conversation circled around again to my fetish. “You know, you never answered my question. Ya know, from the elevator?” She looked reminiscent for a second, then replied softly, back in a tone she usually used in the office ( I hoped I hadn’t killed the mood). “Something about guys with fetishes that aren’t totally disgusting. I like, to know I have a simple quirk that arouses them, it makes me feel dominant. A foot fetish definitely something I could work with.” She said looking into my eyes. I’m an idiot, so I’m not sure if that was her way of coming onto me, but I definitely wouldn’t mind getting into a relationship with her. She was a dominionative type (I guessed) so I played on the submissive role. “Well, I have to say, I wouldn’t mind being your pig.” I was joking of course, but her eyes got an excited light in them, like a “Really?!” kind of look. From all of the foot fetish porn I’d watched online, I have to say that being a foot-slave seemed pretty sweet. Foot jobs, getting walked on, “forced” to suck toes and all that good stuff. I’d have no problem with that, then she said “Well, its only fair after how honest you’ve been tonight to come clean about my own fetish.” She rested her head on her hands praying mantis style. I was intrigued and moved close. She pulled a magazine out of her briefcase which had been all but invisible during our conversation.
On the cover of the magazine, a naked man tied to an X-frame with a leather hood over his face looked as if he were straining against his bonds as a woman guised all in black leather stood behind him and tickled him under the arm with one hand and stroked his penis with the other. It was all in Japanese so I couldn’t read any of it, but the pictures told everything. I thumbed through it, keeping it under the table just in case our food arrived soon. Page after page of the same two on the cover engaging in ticklish endeavors: The man hogtied on a table with his erect penis in a hole gushing cum while the woman tickled his feet; page 4, man tied with his arms above his head and legs spread wide, dominatrix tickling his junk while her bare toes danced in his underarms; page 6, man with his feet in stocks and wrist in irons being foot tickled and armpit tickled by two women. It went on for the entire book, some positions so degrading that I felt sorry for the poor bastard. In one the dominatrix had the mans mask pulled up so his mouth was uncovered , tying his arms behind her while she tickled his armpits while he sucked her pussy, the whole while the other woman tickled his feet while she jerked him off with hers. I got to the end and saw the cover of next month’s issue: a man ( I couldn’t tell if it was the same one because of the hood) with his arms and legs tied behind his back with his erection being tickled by another woman clad in leather.
I had been so involved in pondering this magazine that I didn’t notice my own erection growing beneath the book. I looked up at Misato, blushing, sweating,....excited. She wanted to do this to me? She looked kind of shame-faced, looking up at me with red cheeks. I couldn’t help but smile at her when she looked like a kid who broke something. “Well,” I replied after an awkward silence. “If you’re willing to indulge my fetish, its only fair I indulge yours, right?” I said. She brightened and smiled back at me. The waiter came in and carried the platter of sushi. I knew how to use chopsticks, but I moved next to Misato so she could teach me anyway. We ate, the meal looked scant but it was actually very filling. She drank green tea, I got Dr. Pepper. We sat side by side, I could see her sexy stockinged feet poking out from under small, firm ass. I wondered what it was she wanted to try on me. These objects of my affection, would they be as lovely as I had fantasized or would I soon fear them?

Part 3 “An Interesting Memory”
Dinner was good, I was full of fish, rice, and Dr. Pepper. We were still in the room, talking. Her foot found its way to my crotch again and it stroked me through my pants. I massaged the other foot and as I bowed to kiss it, I realized the deliciously pungent odor coming from them. I smiled to her, “You have stinky feet.” She kicked me playfully in the arm. I tickled her foot quickly as a punishment and she began squirming and kicking, her other foot digging into my crotch. She had a sweet laugh, a tittering “hee-hee”. Part of the foot fetish was tickling feet. I guess it was a way of gauging softness. She dug her toes into my side just above my hip and I lurched away. “So, how ticklish are you?” she asked me placing both of her feet on my lap rocket.
I couldn’t answer, I’d never really thought about it. I didn’t get tickled a lot as a kid. I lived with my mom, who wasn’t home a lot. I was an only child, well that’s a lie. I had a brother in college. I remember when I was 16, I got a baby sitter who was about 17 or 18 (my mom just didn’t trust me in the house by myself). She was a real bitch, all she did was make me stay in my room and watch our TV. Even at this age, I still had and acknowledged my foot fetish. The only reason I didn’t tell my mom how horrible of a baby sitter she was was because of how damn nice her feet looked. She was a blue polish girl. She always kicked her shoes off, let her feet air out as she watched TV. In the summer she’d take off her sneakers and socks. She always left her socks inside of her shoes, and sometimes, when she’d fall asleep watching TV, I’d sneak into the den, steal her socks, give her feet a quick kiss, and run back to my room. I’d sniff those socks for hours, it was my one true addiction at that age.
So one night, Karey, my baby-sitter, was asleep (or so I thought) and I was sneaking in to steal her socks again, already hard from hours of spying on her feet as they dangled over the edge of the couch. I got the socks and leaned in to give her size 7’s a goodnight kiss when she shot awake and grabbed me. “So it was you whose been stealing my socks.” she said plainly. “Why my socks, huh? What does a little brat like you do with girl socks? Eat them?” I was to shy to respond to the question, to scared to try and escape. They were tube socks, very sweaty tube socks. Still damp in fact. She tied them around my nose to “punish” me with theirs stink, and the other around my mouth like a gag. She went into my room and found my... I mean her stash of socks. She fished out every pair of tube socks and tied my wrists and ankles together. She was still barefoot, and seeing her feet while smelling the sweet stench of them was making me greatly aroused. Thankfully I was wearing a pair of baggy PJ bottoms and a t-shirt, so she didn’t see it right away. She stood there, probably wondering what to do with me. She sat on me because I tried to inch away like a worm, but her feet were right in front of my face.
I couldn’t help but stare, if her gag hadn’t kept me from doing do, I would’ve licked her heels. She looked down at me from between her legs. Saw me staring, told me to stop but to me her voice sounded distant and I ignored her. She kicked me, but I didn’t feel it. Then she realized something and it was at that point she became a little more... interested. “So, you’re one of those weird foot guys, huh? That explains everything.” She grinned at me. I was embarrassed. She black mailed me with this information, seeing as we went to the same high school. Unfortunately, this was spring break, my mom was on a 3-day trip somewhere and Karey was making me her servant. She would humiliate me, like if I knocked something over (though she usually did it and said I did but I wasn’t in a position to argue) and I crouched down to pick it up, she’d use me as an ottoman, and if I complained she’d say “Shut up, you know you like it down there.” and of course she was right, but I guess it was just to embarrassing to indulge in at the time.
One day, I rebelled. I said, “I don’t care. Tell everyone I like feet, its better that waiting on--”
“--Hand and foot?” she retorted.
“--Some bitch who can’t even do her job! All I have to do is tell my mom how terrible you are and your ass is outta here!”
She took her feet off of my back and actually seemed to be rattled by this. Then she said quite severely “You aren’t going to tell ‘mommy’ sh*t.” She chased me into my room, trapped me on the floor, and took my stash of stolen socks (that she let me keep and that I still have) and got her tube socks out of it. She straddled me on the floor and tied me up like before in her socks. Only this time, instead of just leaving me there to rot, she lifted my shirt and revealed my ab-less stomach and tickled me. I squirmed and churned and laughed into my sock-gag. She got my ribs but they weren’t as ticklish because at the time, I had more muscle to protect them. Then she got my underarms and I actually screamed into my gag. She worked that area until I peed myself. She laughed at me and stopped for a few seconds. I inhaled sock stink as I tried catch my breath. I wasn’t given that much time, because she ripped my socks off and tickled my feet until I peed on myself again. But this time she didn’t stop, she kept tickling and tickling and the front of my pants was getting wetter by the second. She watched me squirm, the muffled screams of my laughter drowned out by the sound of my bound limbs pounding the floor as I writhed. She was straddling me backwards feet on my face, I was actually getting hard during this entire ticklish ordeal. Then something started wetting my pants that wasn’t pee. I was still laughing my ass off, but I was cumming all the same. She didn’t realized it. She turned around to see my face, saw something else and got almost horrified.
She stopped tickling, got off me and hurriedly untied me. The room seemed to ring with the reverberation of my laughter, though I had finally stopped. She told me to change my pants and underwear, then and there, the digital clock on my bed stand read 4:21pm. Maybe she knew something I didn’t, but I did as she said, disregarding her standing right there. I changed my underwear, having to peel it off seeing as how soaked and sticky it was. She was terrified, looking nervously around the room casting a quick glance at me, raising her eyebrows at my erection, but shook her self from a short trance and continued panicking. I changed into a pair of briefs, but it wasn’t enough to hide my erection. I heard distant keys clacking steps. My mom was coming home. That’s why Karey was panicking. I hurriedly through on a pair of jeans but my soldier was still clearly visible. Now I was panicking. Why did she have to go and arouse me so much. I through my soaked clothes in the hamper and then heard the door open. “Karey? *Relent<*?” She called. Her footsteps were coming closer. Karey was afraid of losing her job, and I was afraid of losing Karey. Acting as quickly as I could, I sat on the bed and tried to look casual. Karey jumped on the bed and put her feet in my lap trying to hide my erection (actually making it worse), snagged a comic book off my bed stand and pretended to read. My mom opened the door and looked in. “Oh here you are. Karey, why didn’t you pick up the phone? I called to say I was on my way.” She greeted/scolded Karey and me. Fortunately, the stereo was on, so my mom took that as an excuse. “Hi mom. How was your trip?” I asked, still sitting in order to hide my erection. She told us about her convention and all the new stuff her company would be selling, but me and Karey were just glad to see that she didn’t suspect anything.
Karey got her pay and went home. I stayed in my room until I calmed down and put the socks back in the box under my bed. As I was doing this, I found a sweaty, white, ankle sock. Written on it in permanent ink was Karey’s phone number. That “penal-flash” must’ve left more of an impression on Karey that I thought. Naturally I called her, and shortly after we started dating. She moved over seas to study abroad when she graduated from High school and we broke up. But she learned that a foot guy could be a lot of fun.”
I finished my story. Misato looked intrigued. “Sounds to me like you’re pretty ticklish. Can’t wait to have a go at you myself.” She chided, jabbing me in the rib with her big toe, making me lurch again.

Part 4 “Making A Stop”
“Give me your foot.” She said quickly, clearly excited by my memory. I was a bit scared to, seeing as she was a tickle maniac and I was quite ticklish. (I’m a size 12, in case you were wondering) She pressed her feet into my crotch. “Please?” She added seductively. I couldn’t resist (I’m a sucker for feet). I slid my foot under the table beside her leg. She took her chopstick and slid it down my foot. It didn’t help that I was wearing those damn black church socks. I swear they’re like nylons for men. I laughed, restraining myself because we were in public. She started using the other chopstick to poke at my foot while the other dragged all over my sensitive sole. I shut my eyes tight and laughed into my hand. She dropped the chopsticks and started using her fingernails and at that point I had to pull my foot away. She laughed at me. ‘Oh we’ve got to get you home, nice and tied up, and tickle you till you piss yourself.” She cooed, leaning over the table. I leaned over to her, kissed her quickly on the lips, and replied “Could we do my fetish first? I blow my stack pretty easy.”
She pouted. “Whatever happened to ‘ladies first’” she joked.
“Well,” I said apologetically. “If you’re sure you want to do it that way...”
“How about this,” She piped, pulling her feet from my lap. “Getting your foot job, and sucking my toes, and sniffing my feet will be your reward for being a good boy during the tickling session?” She stared starry-eyed at me waiting for a response. I agreed, and after a few minutes of cooling off, we started out of the restraint. I looked at my watch. It was 11:12pm. “Damn.” I said to myself. “Where does the time go?” I said emphatically. We spent the last five hours talking and reminiscing. A good first date, I thought, and it was going to get even better.
We went to the parking lot back at the office building. We’d walked to the restraunt as it was only around the corner (and seeing as gas prices were the way they were nowadays...) Well, I ride the bus to work from my apartment across town, but seeing as Misato was an exec, she had a car, and a damn nice one at that. An import, jet black, silver grill and matching caps. Leather interior, nice stereo. It still smelled new, but I discovered a “new car smell” air-freshener under the glove box. I gave her a “look”. She shrugged and unlocked it and we got in. We drove out of town first, to an off-highway sex store. They had videos, bondage equipment and, well, generally sex-store-stuff. She walked in, quite confident. In her blouse, stocking’s and skirt. Most people had low hats, heavy coats, she was just as confident as though she belonged there. I wanted to wait in the car, but she said she needed me for measurements. We walked in, the clerk, female, piercings, tattoos, net shirt on over a black tank top and a pair of black and red parachute pants, looked up at us and raised one pierced eyebrow. Misato walked right to the desk and asked where the bondage equipment was. The clerk spoke, lip-piercings jingling, “In the back next to the flavored condoms.” I followed Misato to the back and sure enough, next to a shelf of “Strawberry passion” condoms, were racks, hooks and shelves full of leather cuffs, straps, frames, and a plethora of things I didn’t even understand how they worked.
Misato browsed through everything, mumbling their names under her breath (probably knew so much about these things because of her kinky-ass magazines). Most people that came into the store came in, got a porno, walked shadily to the counter and got out in less than 2 minutes. So a good deal of the time, we had the store to ourselves, save for the clerk. The clerk, whose name tag read: Charred Orchid, but I doubted it was her real name, but I called her Ms. Orchid anyway, came to the back and aided us like any good saleswoman. Misato was looking for stuff to buy, while I was trying to learn about this stuff without disturbing her (she was in the groove, ya know?) Ms. Orchid showed me everything from binding cuffs to penis rings, explaining how they worked and using an inflatable sex doll that was on display to demonstrate. I was amazed at the strange positions the human body could be manipulated to. “Now this is one of my favs.” She said picking up a bundle of straps. She showed on the sex doll how proper application could leave the body completely immobilized and the genitals completely exposed. She started telling me how her boyfriend had used it on her and and teased her clitoris until.... well you get the idea. I also found out that her boyfriend was into tickling as well, and he used more than half of the stuff in the store on her at least once. I was getting aroused just listening to her talk, imagining doing some of this stuff to Misato. “So, what you in for tonight?” She asked looking around me at Misato and her armful of toys. I was a bit embarrassed to talk about it, but she had just told me quite a bit about her sex life so I figured why not. “Well.... I have a foot fetish and she’s into bondage and... tickling.” she nodded with a smirk, looked at Misato’s load of toys again, then smiled “Oh, you are IN FOR IT.” She chided patting my arm. I thought about what she said, I mean, how bad could tickling be?
Misato slopped her pile down on the counter. I gaped at it it must’ve been at least fifteen pounds of leather! Ms. Orchid rung it up and it came to a total of about $300. Misato threw down a couple of 50’s and got $10.34 in change. I forgot how rich executives were. I would’ve used a VISA for sure. Misato and I were about to leave when Orchid pulled Misato to the side. “This your first time? Yeah, I can tell cuz you’re buying so much. Listen...” She started whispering into her ear. Misato nodded, some of her expressions went from intrigued to disgusted to as excited as a school girl who got new easter shoes. “Thanks for the advice” Misato said cheerily to Orchid as she turned to leave. “Don’t push yourself to hard.” Orchid called back tossing her what looked like a leather bag. “This one’s on the house.” She said with a wink.
I carried all the stuff (in 4 doubled up plastic bags) to the car and put them in the back seat. I rode shotgun and Misato drove. We had the radio on a rock station and Misato didn’t complain, even sung along to some of the older stuff. It was almost time, I was a bit nervous, excited but nervous. We drove further down the highway. I guess Misato lived in the suburbs, well, she was loaded, even if I did pay for dinner it was only out of courtesy. I wouldn’t have any groceries but ramen for a while. I wondered what her house would be like...

Part 5 “First Endeavor”
It was an hour long drive to her house and I thought I ‘d fall asleep before we got there. Misato was as bright as ever, her business jacket hung over the back of the seat. She kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye. “Tired?” She’d ask. “Nope.” I’d blurt sitting up to hide my sleepiness. “Go ahead and take a nap. Its a long drive and you’ll need the energy.” She didn’t have to tell me twice. I was passed out in the passenger seat a minute after she gave me permission.
I woke up in the car in the driveway. Misato was taking a nap on me, leaning over the arm rest using my chest as a pillow. I kissed her forehead. She strummed a finger over my stomach and I smiled. “You awake?” She opened her eyes sleepily. “Mostly.” I replied simply. She sat up, her hair was a mess and it looked like we’d had sex already, but alas, I was not yet soiled by her insides and she was still a virgin. Holy sh*t. She was still a virgin!! I was burdened with the responsibility to make it memorable. Little did I know it would be QUITE memorable, for the both of us. I let her nap to regain her energy.
Misato woke up after a few minutes more of sleep, and by this time I was fully awake and had been watching her sleep. She kissed my chin and took the keys out of the ignition (innuendo not intended). I walked her to the door and she unlocked it after a few minutes of key-hunting. Her houses exterior was nice, nice wood paneling and tiled roof; a typical suburbian house in other words. The inside was lightly decorated. An oriental rug to leave your shoes on in front of the door, which led to a kitchen that connected to a small dining room that connected to a living room which connected to a study which connected to a hallway with bedrooms that circled around to the entrance and living room. A hallway on the other side of the kitchen led to a small restroom and the master bedroom. As I studied her house, taking a short tour, she was taking off her shoes and leaving them on a corner of the rug, sliding on some house slippers I didn’t bother with. She caught up to me in the kitchen and led me by the hand to the master bedroom.
It was nice, white carpet, some nice chinese drapery on the walls, a futon bed. “Nice digs” I said admirably. She led me to the futon mattress that lay on the floor. She tucked the corners under and revealed four holes in the floor. They were metal lined, serrated, so I assumed something screwed into them. Sure enough, she brought four post from her closet that were also serrated near the bottom. I helped her screw them in place, one per corner. Then she started pulling things out of the bags we’d gotten from the sex store. Chains, cuffs, straps, and even after the short lecture I’d gotten I still couldn’t recognize most of it. I did, however, recognize a penis ring. They were supposed to restrict my orgasm, though I doubted anything had that kind of power. She walked sensually forward, unbuttoning her blouse to about midway. Her bra was black, thinking back to seeing them in the bathroom, I think her panties were black too. Victoria’s secret no doubt, but getting back to the present....
She kissed me and I lowered us to the floor on the mattress. I let her unbutton my shirt, it was summer so I wasn’t wearing an undershirt. She pulled my tie off over my head, it was red. She discarded my black dress shirt and my tie to the side of the mattress. ( Yeah, I’m doin' the “Billy Joe” thing”) She also removed my pants, unbuckling my belt with her delicate little hands, slid my pants down my legs. She debated on whether or not to remove my shorts. She decided to, but didn’t just take them off, she sat back and grabbed the elastic with her long nyloned toes and slid them down, grazing my member with her toes as she pulled them down. She removed them, threw them to the side. She brought some reels from the bags. “I usually would just tie you to the posts, but I saw these on sale and just couldn’t resist.” She explained. She slid the reels in place. They were kind of like doughnuts made of metal with chains inside coming out of an opening for a cuff to connect to. There was a hand-crank on one side, about 3 yards of chain inside. She slid the post through the hole, slid a silver ring on before and after the reel to secure it. She set it up on all four post the same way, brought out some leather cuffs and buckled them around my wrists and ankles. There were chain links on each of the cuffs, a steel binding ring ring connected the link to the chain. I was bound, had a little mobility still, and I was getting nervous. I’d never done anything like this before, not with the intentional intent to sexually stimulate. I’d only had one real tickling experience in my life, and it was very brief, not intended to even do what it did.
I got butterflies in my stomach, like being at the climax of a roller coaster just before the enormous plunge that starts the entire ride. I was having second thoughts, and moved to sit up. Misato had already started cranking the reels on my ankles and I fell back. “Something wrong?” she said, trying to sound innocent though she wanted this so bad. I could see her nipples erecting beneath her bra. I didn’t want to take this away from her, but I was scared. I swallowed it, forced confidence into myself, and laid down. “Nothing. Go ahead.” She straddled me and cranked the last two reels until my body was stretched taught, I was practically hovering over the mattress. She pulled a rolling chair from a desk on the far side of the room. She had it positioned next to the mattress, wheels actually on the fabric. I saw something like this in last month’s issue of “Kanojo Fetisshu Kusuguttai” ( the kinky magazine she has in her brief case. It translates to “Her ticklish fetish”) She moved her nylon foot down my arm, starting at the hollow of my elbow, sliding it gently down my bicep, I squirmed a little, her big toe made contact with the edge of my armpit hollow and I exploded. The fact that her feet were on me made me hard, but the tickling got me stiffer.
Her foot circled the rim of my pit, then she suddenly jabbed her toes into the very center. The bondage kept me from lurching away, so I had to take it. I wasn’t taking it well. I was writhing aimlessly as her long, dexterous toes wriggled like fingers in my sensitive hollows. In the midst of one of the most savage ticklings I’d ever received in my life, I was imagining how superb of a foot job she’d give if her toes were this flexible and dexterous. Toe and Foot job. That’d be nice. She seemed to notice that I was able to think and decided to put an end to it, because she dug both feet into my hollow and tickled me with all ten toes. I sprang forward in an attempted lurch but fell back flat on my back and continued with the little amount of squirming my bonds allotted.
I was drooling on myself, trying desperately to bring my knees together to keep from peeing. I cackled and howled and laughed out loud, just one armpit sent these sensations through my body. I never realized how ticklish I was, maybe because it had been so long. She rolled her chair down a bit with one foot, the other still engaged in armpit stimulation. She began poking randomly at my ribs with the toes of the other foot, causing my laughter to go up and octane and a decibel as I writhed in ticklish agony. I have to admit it was good to have my penis unrestricted, seeing as it’d be either scrunched in my shorts or tear a hole in them, I was kind of relieved to just have it wagging around. She rubbed her nylon foot from my ribs over my flat, firm stomach. The brushing of the nylon fabric on my bare skin was almost unbearable, it was only bearable because I had no choice but to bear it. I was on the verge of tears, her right foot still tickling my armpit, the left prodding and brushing my belly with the cruelest of accuracy. My cock was rock solid at this point, but the rest of my body was a jellied mess of ticklish, squirming flesh. She finally relented on my armpit to bring both tickling feet to my stomach and ribs and began a savagely precarious attack on that area. It was so horribly delightful, and I could tell she was enjoying this as well. The objects of my affection, so ruthless in carrying out her desires.
She stopped briefly and rolled her chair around to the foot of the bed. She got on her knees on the mattress, digging around in the bag for no doubt some other kinky accessory. What she pulled out was something that looked a great deal like a brass knuckle, except it was thin and wiry with a hooking clip at the back. she had two, left them between my legs and went to her desk. She opened a drawer, rummaged in it for a bit, and came back with a letter opener. I was taking this opportunity to catch my breath, taking deep heavy breaths, already profusely sweating from my previous endeavor. My penis ring glistened with my pre cum. She sat between my legs, cut the toes out of my socks, and clipped the brass-knuckle-looking attachment onto the cuff on my ankles. I watched as she slid my toes into the wire frame attachment and locked it into place with clip on the side. I tried to figure out what she’d done, and when the tingling in my armpit and on my ribs and stomach finally calmed down a bit I became aware of the taughtness of my soles. She had locked my toes back.
Now I saw things like this in “Her Ticklish Fetish”, the naked man had his toes tied back as the leather woman tickled, and compared to the pages where his toes were unrestrained, the effect seemed like it had been greatly increased. I was terrified and yet excited to see how terribly ticklish this would be. She tightened the buckle on my ankles, and thus my feet were immobilized. She sat back in her chair and looked down at me, the gleeful luster in her eyes long since replaced by a more seductive, commanding expression. The one she used in the office, the dominant expression I’d come to love. She had two separate personalities, each of which I was very fond of. She parted her lips ever so slightly as she spoke, “You and that girlfriend of yours, Karey, did you ever play footsie?” She looked somewhat curious, but like she had a remark locked behind her lips for after I responded. Of course we played footsie, its what couples did back then, even if she would use my face more often than my feet. I responded with an “I guess...”
“Did you ever play it like this?” She said sensually as she dragged her long toes down my tight sole. I cried out “NO-HOO-HO-HOHAHAHAHAHAH!” I don’t know whether I was answering her question or begging for respite, but the response seemed appropriate.
She delighted in my writhing, a sensually evil smile parted her lips. Her eyes possessed a cold, dark, loving in them. It was the strangest of expressions, but it made me feel small, insignificant, and I think that that was its purpose. She incorporated her right foot as well as her left in tickling my feet. Her nails, filmed in the soft fabric, tickled like nothing I’d ever felt before. Feather soft, claw sharp. She did this with the greatest amount of grace and precision I’d seen thus far. She had her legs crossed, right over left, right ankle slowly gyrating her foot on my sole while the left foot was propped up on its heel, toes wiggling furiously beneath mine. I should’ve gone to the bathroom before we started, because the Dr. Pepper from hours before was slowly making it way to my penis. My knees were to stretched out to clamp shut and hold in my urine. I started trickling. I looked at Misato with a kind of guilt under toning my laughter. It was embarrassing when I was 16, it was embarrassing now, to pee on myself. She made a feigned pout at me, like “bad boy.” but never stopped tickling. “Its all right. I have rubber sheets on the bed. Go ahead and let it all out.” I tried to speak, but with her ceaseless foot tickling, it was useless. “Pl-heehaahahahsss-ssshhheeehaaaa!!Le-haahahah-let-hahaha-me heeeheegooo-hohohohohahaha-to-bafffffroooohoohoom!! Haahahahahaha!!” I meant to say “please let me go to the bathroom”, but what came out was completely incoherent and she continued.
I tried my best to scrunch my bladder muscles and hold it in, but she moved one foot, the right one, over to my stomach, between my belly button and my “place that counts”. She started tickling that area with her toes with the ferocity of her armpit tickling. She was tickling and pressing my bladder forcing me to pee. She put her left foot on my penis and forced the head to the mattress, and in doing such I urinated in a continuous, powerful, flow. I could see she had her foot on my cock to keep my urine from spraying everywhere, but it was quite uncomfortable having it forced down like that, but I loved how her foot lovingly stroked me the whole while she held it down, almost in apology, I assumed. Misato kept her foot there until I had expended all of my urine and though peeing through an erection had been difficult, most of it was on the mattress, any excess had gotten into Misato’s stocking. She lifted her foot, watched a few drops drip, then removed it with the other foot, leaving it at the foot of the mattress. One barefoot, one nylon. Fortunately, none of the liquid had actually gotten to her foot, She didn’t waste anytime getting back to business. She re-crossed her legs, this time left over right, nylon toes of the right foot tickling under my toes, bare toes of the left rubbing my soles and prodding my arch. I was hysterical again in seconds, given the time to catch my breath during that entire peeing episode and was able to scream and squeal and squirm with renewed vigor. Although I was wiggling in my own wetness, I was glad that she didn’t let me go to the bathroom, or else my arousal might have subsided and I may not have wanted to let her tie me back up. She was quite knowledgeable of the science of sexual torture.
I eventually regressed into silent, wide mouthed laughter, slight wheezes escaping my throat ever so often. It had been about 30 minutes since she had restarted tickling my feet, and throughout she re-crossed her legs, changing techniques; sometimes tickling under my toes with her nylon feet, sometimes, tickling my sole with her nylon feet, sometimes using her bare toes to do the job of the nylons, sometimes using both feet on one foot at a time, using her bare toes tickle my soles and her nylon foot to tickle my still silk socked feet. She ripped the rest of my socks off, and she could see my sole had literally been tickled pink, almost to he point of glowing. Thankfully, she finally got bored with my feet, and moved the chair in closer. She extended both legs with agonizing slowness, giving me a chance to breathe, also intimidating me as her soft little toturesses’ approached the hollows of my armpits. Her bare foot was cold, frigid toes, the feeling of them was pure ecstasy. The slight stick of them on my skin from the dried sweat that had accumulated there, the soft glide of them as they were heavily lubricated. The nylon in one pit, the barefoot in the other, I was being ripped in half by the tickling; feather soft scratching on one side, sinister scratching and prodding in the other. I found my voice and began to laugh anew, screaming in some instances, at one point my laughter was so high pitched that my voice cracked and I was once again in silent laughter for about ten minutes.
She seemed to be pacing her tickling by the redness of my skin when she finished. She didn’t stop until my armpits were glowing pink, only a few shades lighter than my face. I couldn’t breathe, I was swallowing gallons of air, getting dizzier by the second. Her tickling had temporarily stopped, but I think she was just trying to keep me from passing out. A few minutes later, after my breathing had returned to normal (mostly normal anyways), Misato picked up where she left off, prodding my ribs with her toes. Its was so sudden I screamed as it began, as she had been resting her feet on my chest, I hadn’t had the time to even see it coming. My woody wagged and brushed her nylon calf as she prodded, and the brush of the fabric stimulated my head. She decided to hold my shaft in her calves as she wiggled her toes relentlessly beneath my rib cage where my stomach began. She prodded my solarplex just to tickle the wind out of me. She used a pumping motion with her legs, like to pistons side by side, thus speeding up the tickling and furiously rubbing my shaft and the base of my head against her nylon leg and smooth hairless bare one. I began drizzling cum again, a short spurt that landed on her shin began to drizzle down onto the mattress. “Ooh, I think you’re ready to cum aren’t you?” She said with a soft, intimidating tone. I could only laugh and nod as she slowly stopped her tickling. Misato lowered herself from the chair, pausing on her knees to undo her skirt and drape it over the seat. she unbuttoned her shirt and did likewise, now all she wore was black, lacy, bra and panties with one sheer nylon stocking.
Was she going to finish me? Remove that damned ring and give me my long awaited foot job? My cock twitched and shuddered as she approached. She crawled over my cock, hovering her crotch just above mine, still on her knees. Her panties were soaked, her nipples stretching the fabric of her bra. “I’m sorry, baby. Not yet.” And with that Misato began maliciously tickling my stomach, digging in with her thumbs above my hips and lightly grinding her lacy, moist encasement against my rigid member. I was cackling and screaming, but no longer had the strength to squirm. All I could do was lay my head back and shudder against her touch, laughing helplessly. My vision was blurring, every inch of my body was tingling, whether it be from sexual urges or from the tickling I had received and was still in the process of receiving. Her feet were bad, but her hands were DEVILISH! So nimble and soft they could move in complete uniformity from one place to the next and return to their previous spot before the sensation had even fully subsided. Long black nails evilly scratching my sides, prodding my navel, teasing the hair above my crotch. I was getting dizzy, foggy-eyed, my breaths came short and I passed out.

Part 6 “Second Endeavor”
I awoke to the crooning voice of my lover whispering in my ear. I opened my eyes and saw nothing blackness, I tried to speak, but something was in my mouth. Had the lights gone out or was I blindfolded? I tried to feel around to see if I was even in the same room, but I was no longer tied spread-eagle on the mattress; My arms were pinned across my chest, my legs and ankles bound tightly together. I couldn’t feel the comfort of the mattress beneath me, rather a leathery feeling that incased my entire body. Misato looked down on my helplessly bound form; (I can only describe it because she took a commemorative photo of me that I saw afterward) mummified in leather, a tight fitting cocoon that had the perfect amount restraint with no excess. The shape of my body could be perfectly seen through it, my arms could be seen folded across my chest, the points on which my nipples were located on my chest, which was still somewhat exposed, had a fishnet covering. There was a small triangle cut out of the groin section from which my balls and penis hung from, limp due to lack of stimulation. How long had I been out? The mask which gagged me was the “leather bag” that Orchid had given Misato in the sex store. It had a ball gag sown in at the part where the mouth would be and strapped around my head inside the leather hood. The ball in the gag had a line of holes that went all the way through to a line of cuts in the hood, allowing me to breathe. I had little stitched cuts under my nostrils and over my eyes. I could breathe almost as though I weren’t gagged at all, though I perspired heavily within the leather, that is, save for my bare feet, cuffed together. The chain link on each cuff was connected by the binding ring that had attached my limbs to each of the reels. Speaking of rings, I no longer felt the warm, metal ring vicing my member. My penis ring was removed. What ever Misato was planning to do to me next, she would finally allow me to cum afterward. I heard a click, a strange electronic reeling noise, like a camera. Then I heard her sweet giggle as she saw me all bound and helpless, now conscious. “You lasted almost two hours before you passed out. You’ve earned a reward.” I felt her weight on top of me. I wondered if she was till only wearing her underwear and one stocking.
“But first, we have to arouse you again. You were out for about 20 minutes, in which time your erection receded. You can’t take a proper foot job with limp one, can you?” I heard her feet sliding over the carpet, the smooth swiff of a bare foot, followed by the “frictiony” sound of nylon on carpet. I knew now that she still had on her single nylon stocking, I also heard her voice trail away somewhat. She was moving toward my feet. I tried to protest, to tell her that if she’d give me a minute I could get hard on my own, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was “MMMPH!! MM-MMPH-MM!” She was there, and there was no stopping her. She started on my left foot, holding back my toes and tickling fiendishly with her devious fingers. I screamed into my gag for respite begging when I could spare the breath between gales of laughter. I started hardening as, she predicted. I was unable to move at all, so confined by the leather cocoon the only thing I could do was laugh my ass off and try desperately to bend my toes against her grip. Of course it was useless. She switched to my other foot using the same technique. My laughter continued in a continuous stream as I shuddered under her gently torturing touch. I was erect after about 12 minutes, that is erect enough for her to consider giving me my long awaited foot job. She ceased momentarily and straddled my thighs. She flicked my penis with her forefinger. “hmmm... good...” I sighed into my gag, relaxing my muscles. “...but not quite good enough.” She said despairingly, sliding down my legs back toward my feet. She didn’t make one continuous slide, she seemed to stick to the leather, meaning that she must not be wearing panties. I imagined her naked form, and began to grow stiffer. Misato still wasn’t impressed, so she kept at her foot tickling. My sole tingled from the bottom of my heal to the tips of my toes, and then she did something terrible, though familiar in its cruelty.
She held the toes on my feet back with both hands as she used her toes once again to torment me. “I like tickling you here. So soft, but not feminine. Perfect for this kind of thing.” She said coolly, never ceasing in her efforts. The nyloned and bared feet, as they had before, indulged in my most ticklish places, utterly sensitized by the previous endeavors. I don’t think I could’ve gotten more erect. I screamed into the gag for her to finish me, pleading. And it wasn’t until pre cum dribbled down my shaft did she stop. She sat on my ankles and I felt her feet positioning themselves on my member. Nylon on the right, bare on the left. My mouth was frozen in a wide “O” shape, ready to moan when the sensations took me. She got a bottle of some sort of lubricant, whether it was lotion or baby oil, I wasn’t sure, but it was obviously close at hand ( though it was a rather thin substance, so I assumed it was the latter). She graciously applied it to my penis, then to her feet, and strangely afterward, to my feet. Then she applied another substance, a thick gel, probably vaseline, to her feet, my dick, and my feet. She wiggled her toes against my shaft, teasing me. I felt her moist, soft hands on my neck, unfastening something. A leather collar that had been so comfortable I hadn’t noticed it, came off, allowing a slight breeze under the hood. Misato reached into the hood and unfastened the gag, then pulled the mask off my face. I winced at the sudden light, despite how dim it was, but when my eyes adjusted, and I saw Misato’s naked body sitting there on me, feet around my slippery member, legs spread, shaven pussy glistening, petite breast with small, hard nipples daintily attached to her chest; all I could do was lay back and wait for what I’d earned. Lubricated nylon and bare foot, in single, coordinated movements, began pumping up and down, up and down; heels hammering my thighs as she stroked me using the space beneath her toes, toes arched backward. She reached forward and fondled my balls, obviously having forgotten my ticklishness. I started giggling as she rubbed them a little too gently, she noticed and her ow fetish was realized once again. She began lightly scratching beneath my sack , reaching into the triangular hole in that leather cocoon and forcing her hand between my thighs, aiming for the sensitive skin between the sack and the butt-crack. I started laughing out loud, this really did tickle, and was so unexpected. I lifted my head to watch her, feet continuing a graceful assault on my member, one hand vanished into the cocoon, the other not yet doing anything. Because of the position I was in and what I’d been through tonight, my neck got tired quite quickly and fell back on the pillow behind my head. It was precisely at that moment that she began tickling my balls with the other hand, the part “above ground”, the skin that connected the penis and my sack. This was also a t-spot of my mine and my laughter increased in volume and ferocity. She switched foot job techniques, using her heels near my head, grinding them in turns; right up, left down, right down, left up. It felt heavenly, but other than that the tickling had me wanting to squirm but unable. Maybe she was trying to expedite my orgasm, maybe, but I was unsure. She switched techniques again, gripping me in her long, delicate toes, that had all of the precision of a hand job, but it was much better in my opinion (being into feet and all). I began to audibly groan and I wanted to pump my hips but of course, seeing my how tightly bound I was, I could do nothing but groan through my laughter and endure both pleasure and this torture that she loved to administer and that I had grown quite fond of.
My balls started to ache, and I groaned audibly as her tickling fingers touched them, causing a great deal of pain. She took her hands away from the area, reclining slightly. I was glad to be able to moan in peace as I received god’s gift to foot fetishist when I felt her nails lightly gliding over my left sole. My head shot up, and there she was; still sitting on my ankles, immobilizing them, toes gripping my member and pumping me to orgasm, a once again devilish expression on her face. I opened my mouth to plead when she dug her nails into my left sole, the other had holding back my toes. My laughter exploded from me as did a small amount of cum as she began this fiendish act upon my already reddened sole. “BWA-HAAHAHA-YOO0HOO-SAID-HAHAHAHAHAHAHA-ITFWASS-HEEHAAHAHAH A-MY TUR-HURRHURRHAHAHA-URN!!” I laughed out, hoping she could understand me. She did, but that didn’t help me. She gave me a cold response that blind-sided me: “It is, but that doesn't mean I’m done tickling you yet. It’s not like you can object...” she said in her “executive” tone. Although my full orgasm had yet to arrive, a good few wads had ejaculated during the toe job and the foot tickling and added lube, but mostly clung to the fabric of her nylon stocking. She changed techniques again, pumping my shaft between her big and fore toe, rubbing my head with the nylon foot; stroking her own sole all over it, cum smearing from heal to toes. Meanwhile, back at my feet, Misato had compromised the ability to hold my toes back in order to tickle both of my soles at once. “Ooh, I love how your feet scrunch up like that.” she said as I tried to harden my soles against the tickling by curling my toes and wrinkling them. Her method against this was to slide her nails between the crevices, sometimes she just strummed her nails over them like my soles were a washing-board. I was laughing hard, face red, hair matted to my forehead with sweat, but with brief interjective moans as I blew another wad onto her smooth, perfect soles.
She stopped after a few more minutes, though only giving me a brief amount of respite as she roled over, repositioning her feet on my cock, now with the nylon on the right and the bare on the left, pumping me between her arches. At my feet, however, Misato pleasured her self in being able to look at my feet and use more precision tickling them. She forced finger between my toes and tickled the sensitive skin there, clawing at my heels, raking my soles. I shot another wad onto her soles. After a few more of the same-old, same-old scratching and prodding, she tried something different. I didn’t have the strength to look up and see her, but I could feel her breath on the tops of my feet and instantly became terrified. I was still laughing to hard, as she was still tickling my soles with her fingers, to say something like “what are you doing?” or “Please don’t!”. Instead, I blurted out something like “PFFWAHAHAHAHA!!”. Yeah, it was pretty incoherent, she didn’t understand me either and proceeded; licking between my big and fore toe. I had a burst of laughter at that lick, another expended wad landed on her ever-pumping arches. She craned her neck and, with the aid of her fingers prying my toes back again, licked beneath my toes. She could’ve done the most incredible things with that tongue but alas, she used it for evil. She lapped my soles, licked the bottoms of my toes, nibbled my heels. My god, it was horrible! She would randomly switch from one foot to the next with the utmost amount of prowess, a professional tickler. I felt it coming, the big one. It had just began developing somewhere in my small intestine but it caused a short spray to wash down her calf. Still tickling with one hand, she sat up on her knees, feet still pumping and removed the cum soaked stocking without so much as disturbing the motions. A strong odor from that foot struck me, the heavenly aroma of foot sweat. Most of the lubricant had soaked through the nylon, so she didn’t need to add anymore, though she did. She withdrew her tickling hand for a moment and turned her stocking inside out, then tied a knot in the top and put it beside the mattress with my shirt and pants.
Both now bare feet continued pumping with vigor, the tops of her feet slapping against my thighs. She continued tickle-licking my feet and kept me on the verge of hysteria. I felt it in the base of my shaft now, I couldn’t have warned her they way I was laughing. She had taken a shine to my toes and nibbled them and held them by the tips with her teeth and used her fingernails to tickle the bottoms of them. I wondered how red they were, or at least in the back of my mind I was, seeing as between arousal and severe nerve stimulation, I couldn’t think about anything at all at the present. Then it came, or should I say I came? Either way the “big one” started sputtering out of my head as her soles pumped; wad after wad of my seed smeared over soles and coated her arches. Her toes were all but enveloped in my thick, sticky, liquid. She looked at me over her shoulder, tickling ceasing as I moaned and squirted my stuff over her feet. She smiled and stopped pumping, and with the quickness of a gymnast, turned body over mine so that our faces met and she impaled herself on my member. Letting out a deep moan of her own, she began grinding her hips into my cock, I was still immobile so she’d have to do all the work. She slammed her hips hard, breathing heavily, quickly breaking out in a sweat. I rocked beneath her and moaned, wishing I could aid her but she had put herself in this position. Her hands clenched the sheets beside my sides. She could feel my erection spraying into her, and then in a quivering voice, she said dismally, “I don’t think I’m going to make it!”
“Quick, undo my arms!” I huffed. She reached behind me, slowing her hips pumping, and unbuckled three buckles there, then peeled the top portion of the mummy warp off. I was sweaty from the insulation and quite frankly, exhausted from the tickling, but I used my arms to roll over on her, grabbing her right ankle in the process, raised it to about her shoulder and slammed my meat into her as fast and hard as I could. The top portion of the mummy wrap started at my neck and ended just below my hips. I had the freedom without to move my back and hips and I sure as hell worked with what I was able to do.
Her foot dripped cum onto her breast as she gripped the sheets and rocked with the force of my driving. I could feel her walls tightening, her face bore an expression of pleasure in its rawest form; eyes shut tight, biting her bottom lip so hard I thought it might bleed, heavy breaths escaping her fluttering lips. She was sweating profusely, and the strenuous effort of riding her while still partially bound was wearing me out but I stayed in it for her sake. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out, then her vaginal walls clamped like a vice around my penis and she began to shudder. Then with one last moaning scream came, just as I was spent. I fell on top of her, no strength left to even roll over. She put a hand on my back as she continued to breathe into my ear. “Thank *huff* *huff* You-so *huff* much...” and she passed out. My vision blurred, but I still had enough energy to get this damn mummy thing off my legs. The top portion was connected to the bottom, but there was something like a tight fitting body bag around the leg portion, so I unbuckled the straps that wrapped around the sown in body-bag portion and with quite an effort, slithered out of it, laying next to Misato on the mattress. Then blackness overtook my vision and I fell into a deep sleep.

“Epilogue”
I awoke to the sun shining in my eyes. Misato was up, beside me on the mattress where she had been, there lay a large damp spot on the sheets. I sat up and looked around the room for something, I’m not sure what. Funny thing about waking up alone in someone else's house is the knowledge that they haven’t just left you alone, like in a hotel, because its their house, so you know their there somewhere. Misato came back into the room with my black work shirt on. It didn’t fit her, the shoulder hung off and the sleeves were too long, but damn, she looked sexy in it. She had two cups of coffee, one for me I hoped or she just didn’t have any bigger mugs. “Good morning, my knight.” she mused. She handed me the first mug and sipped the second. I took a swig of the coffee. This wasn’t like the crappyy stuff I had at home, this was the good stuff, like St*rbucks good. “Thanks for last night. “ She said in a sexy, sleepy voice as she nestled on the mattress beside me. Her feet and legs were bare, and my vision wandered to her black polished toes. She chuckled at me. “Its still a bit early, don’t you think?” I smiled at her. “Hey, next time we do this, how do you feel about being on the receiving end of a tickling?” She smiled back at me. “What do I get for being a good girl?”

End

Wonderful, intense F/m story, and highly erotic in places.

Just have to bump what is a terrific F/M story. One of my favourites.

What a very good story, hope to read more of this kind from you.