I was nervous, sitting in the waiting room with my folder and resume in hand. This was a prestigious company and if I got the job, I knew it'd change my life forever. I was waiting to talk to the CEO herself, whose name they gave me only as Miranda. Was that her first or last name? I wasn't sure. It wasn't anywhere on the internet, like she didn't exist. I didn't know what to expect.
There was one guy ahead of me. I got there early and I thought I'd have to wait 30 minutes, but he came out, completely red in the face and walking fast for the exit. I didn't know what to make of that, but I didn't have time to think before the secretary spoke.
"That means you're up, Benson." That was me. I stood up. I was dressed in a nice suit, my hair combed neatly. The secretary was a redhead, about my age, 25 or so. She smiled at me as I walked in.
"Good luck," she said. "Relax. I have a feeling you'll do just fine."
The office was huge, on a high rise with big windows. Miranda's desk was at the back of the room and she was framed by the windows behind her. I noticed there was a section of the room hidden with curtains and another part with several doors, but that wasn't my focus right now. My focus was her.
She was an older lady, maybe in her late 40's I thought, but not at all any less attractive for her age. Like a wine or cheese, she was the kind of woman who got better with a few years. She had long black hair, a nice blouse and an A-line skirt, and her full lips were done in dark red lipstick. She smiled. I felt at once I could do anything for that smile.
"Please, sit down," she said, gesturing to a chair on the other side of her desk. "This is going to be unlike any interview you've had before," she began. "I'm looking for a personal assistant with some very specific skills. Looking at you now and having already seen your resume, I think you might be a good fit."
I sat down and put my folder in front of me, opening it up to take out my resume. "Yes, Mrs. Miranda. I just graduated with my degree in business…"
She lifted a finger - long fingernails, painted red, I noticed - "Shh. Miss Miranda," she corrected gently. "And yes, I saw. You don't need to sell yourself. Just relax and answer a few questions, darling. Answer them honestly."
I was surprised by that, but I nodded my head and waited for the first question.
"Are you willing to do whatever it takes to get the job?" she asked first.
I nodded my head, "Well, yes, Miss Miranda. Of course."
She smiled. I knew what I said was 100% true. I'd do whatever she asked me to, if she smiled like that. "Benson, are you a risk-taker?"
That one made me hesitate. "I want to be," I answered. I was very new to the business world. I didn't have a ton of experience other than my degree and an internship. I was surprised I was even being considered for this position. "I think it's a little bit of a risk to be here now," I added.
She laughed a little at that and I took it as a good sign. "And Benson, do you find me attractive?"
The question caught me completely off-guard. I felt my skin get hotter and my pants felt a little tighter. "Y-yes, ma'am," I admitted.
"Good." She reached out and took away my folder of papers. She closed it in front of her and folded her perfect hands on top of it. "Remember, be honest. Are you ticklish, Benson?"
Again, I was caught off-guard. I didn't know what to say other than the truth. "Um, yes."
"How ticklish?" she asked at once. "On a scale of one to ten?"
"Oh, uh… haha. Pretty much a ten?" I was really blushing now. My face felt hot and I could see the backs of my hands turning red.
"That's what I like to hear." Miss Miranda dropped my folder into her wastebasket and got up. "Follow me, Benson."
I jumped up from my chair to follow her. She led me to the curtained area and pulled back the curtain. I couldn't have predicted what I was about to see there. It was a set of stocks, black and padded with leather. It was attached to a nice looking leather chair and the seat back had a crossbeam with restraints for a person's wrists. I gulped.
"I want to do a little test," she told me. "The salary I'm willing to offer you depends entirely on this test. If what you told me is true, you'll be paid very handsomely. Up to one million dollars a year."
My jaw dropped. I was expecting a nine dollar an hour job. Maybe sixteen if I was lucky. But… a million dollars a year?
"Take off your clothes," she instructed. "Strip down to your underpants."
I hesitated, but how could I pass it up? I kicked off my dress shoes and loosened my silk tie. I pulled off my coat. When I went to unbutton my shirt, my hands were shaking. Miss Miranda saw this and hushed me softly.
"Shhhh, Benson." She reached out with her beautiful hands and began to undo the buttons for me. "Don't be nervous. Don't think about it. You're doing just fine. So far, you have everything I want."
I felt my heart flutter a little. I wanted nothing more than to work for this woman and do a good job. In no time, I was down to nothing but my socks and briefs. She told me to sit in the chair and I did. My heartbeat was in my ears as she strapped me in. My arms were spread out like a T. My legs were stretched in front of me. She peeled my socks off inside out and giggled when she saw my bare feet.
And then she shut the stocks around my ankles and locked me in tight, spinning the key on her finger before tucking it away into her cleavage. My underpants felt too small.
But that wasn't all. She took a thin cord and began to tie my toes. I was really surprised by that and squirmed a little. But it was too late. I was already in this vulnerable position and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. She tied each toe individually, spreading them all out. I never felt so helpless and so nervous.
"Wonderful," she said, stepping back to my head. "But one more touch." She brought out a long strip of black silk and wrapped my eyes. I gasped as the world went dark and she tied it snugly around my head, blindfolding me effectively. "There. You look good, Benson."
I felt her fingers trail down my torso. It was a light touch and sent a shock through me. I giggled a little.
"That's good," she cooed. I heard her heels on the floor and I heard a sound, like she was opening up a box nearby and rummaging around. "Where are you most ticklish, Benson?"
I was really breathing fast now. I had never been tied up like this and I'd definitely never been tickled while tied up. Words fell out of my mouth, "M-Miss Miranda. I'm really ticklish. If you tied me up to tickle me, uh, I don't know what I'll do. I don't know if I can take that, Miss Miranda."
Something soft and feathery touched my belly. It felt like a duster. I couldn't help but giggle. She teased my stomach and gently drew it up my side. I felt my anxiety spike as it went up towards my armpit.
"Aah!"
"Kootchie-kootchie," she teased. "Shh. I know, darling boy. Don't you worry about that. Answer my questions." She dragged the duster back down and teased it along the waistband of my briefs. I didn't know I was so ticklish there and I was giggling again.
"Heehehee. Um! M-my stomach," I answered. She lifted the duster to give me a moment to think. "My … armpits. My, um, feet. Those are the most t-ticklish, I think?"
"Let's find out if you're right."
She put her fingernails down by my hip and lightly dragged them up my side. I felt like I'd jump out of my skin. My back arched and my body tensed. Nervous laughter started out of me. And when she got to my armpit, I couldn't help but yelp out.
"Gotacha," she said. I heard the duster hit the floor and what happened next was a nightmare. I felt Miss Miranda's body press against mine as she put her fingers into both my armpits and began a scribbling assault with her polished fingernails. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"
My head fell back against the chair and I let out a loud SCREAM of laughter against my will. "AAAAAAAAAIIAAAA-HAAA HAAA HAAA!! AAaaah HA HAAAA!!"
I tugged hard in my bonds and my ass bounced in the chair. I couldn't control myself. I was at the mercy of this woman's tickling hands and she showed me none. It seemed like minutes went by, where she just scribbled and stroked and poked deep into the hollows of my armpits, driving me wild. All I could do was shriek and laugh and struggle helplessly.
Finally, she relented and my lungs relished deep breaths of air. My skin was on fire, still burning with the lingering sensations of the torturous tickling.
"Oh, my goodness. You really are so ticklish, aren't you?"
"P-please," I said, now that I could talk again. But I didn't get a break. I felt a soft, stiff feather stroke my right nipple. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a desperate giggle, "Paah-leee-eease, M-Miss Miranda. Heee-heee. Oh, no…"
"Oh yes." The feather swirled effortlessly, around and around, then flitted over my stiff nipple. I wheezed and my chest lifted against my will. I tried to turn my chest away, but the feather followed, relentless.
And then a second feather started teasing my left nipple too. My giggles increased. "Hee-hee-haa haaahaa. Ohmygod. Oh my god, no, please, n-not haahaaa… not this. Hnn!"
I was writhing, twisting, trying to get away from the bright, vibrant tickling to my nipples. The tickling sensations crawled through my nervous system, sending ripples into my belly. And I felt heat in my cock. I was bulging in my underpants, which felt way too tight now. My pelvis squirmed and I wished she'd stop tickling me and rub my cock instead.
"Oh, beg all you want, my tickle-boy. I've got you right where I want you," she taunted. "Mm. We booked forty-five minutes for your interview. And you were half an hour early, too, weren't you? You do the math, silly tickle-boy."
One of the feathers began swirling down my torso. I couldn't help but squeal and squirm. To my dismay, Miss Miranda began to trace along the waistline of my briefs. I had no idea that I was so damnedably ticklish there. My back arched and my laughter and squeals increased.
"Heee! Hee-heee ho-hooo no! No, p-lease, I'm g-going insa-haane!"
Miss Miranda chuckled, a rich, sweet sound. "Hmm hmm. Yes, you are. You're going insaaaane from the tickling. Tickle, tickle…" I felt the feather start to swirl around my bellybutton. I choked a little on my own laughter. I shook my head back and forth and breathlessly tried to beg, "No… hoo-hoo, noo…"
The feather cruelly swirled into my hypersensitive navel and dipped in deep. I felt my whole body spasm with ticklishness. My back arched and my ass bounced in my chair. "AAAH-HAAA HAAA HAAA! NOOO-HOOOO!"
The feather at my nipple was abandoned and the CEO's terrible nails began flittering down my torso, driving me crazy when they got to the line of my briefs. My hips bucked energetically, trying to get some attention to my yearning cock. All the while, I yowled and laughed and pulled in my binds to no avail. I couldn't escape. I had to just writhe and take it as this woman had her way with me, however she wanted to.
"What a ticklish little bellybutton! What a tickle-tickle-ticklish little tummy!" Her words burrowed in my mind and seemed to heighten the sensations. Coupled with the blindfold, taking away one of my vital senses, this was making my already ticklish skin even more vulnerable to her touches.
I quaked and struggled while she scribbled her fingernails along my waist and up my ribs. Her incessant feather just kept dipping and twirling around in my navel, shooting intense ticklish feelings deep into my gut and straight to my groin. I was in hell. And she tirelessly tortured me like that for several more long minutes. I was breathless and thought I might pass out when she finally ceased.
Again, my lungs drew in deep breaths and my head was swimming, euphoric.
"My, my. What have we here? Hmm. It looks like someone is turned on by all of this activity. Are you a ticklish little pervert, Benson?" She traced a single fingernail up the inside of my leg. It sent a shock through me and my legs shivered.
I didn't know what to say. I stammered. "I- I d-didn't think I was?" She was letting me talk. This was my chance! I sucked in a deep breath and pleaded, "B-but, please, don't tickle me anymore. I really can't take it, Miss Miranda. I'm so ticklish and it's like hell to me, really. Please, just stop tickling me and let me come, please?"
"Hmmmm." She spidered her fingernails up the same path up my leg, which made me yelp and shiver harder.
"Haa-haa. Oh, M-Mi-hiss Miraa-haanda, paaah-lee-heease." I squirmed and hoped she'd finally touch my groin when she reached the top of my inner thigh, but she didn't. She just rested her hand there, tapping her nails thoughtfully. Each tap made me flinch, despite myself. "Hn! Hn!"
"Here's the deal, Benson." I couldn't see her, but I could hear the devious smile in her voice. "You've got the job. I want you. You'll be my personal assistant. My personal tickle-slave assistant. Your salary is one million dollars a year. When you sign this contract, it means you're mine. I can do whatever I want to you during our working hours and you have to follow any and all of my instructions. And your contract is for ten years."
I sputtered. Ten years? I didn't think I could take ten more minutes! "Wh-what?! No, th-that's insane!"
"Too bad." Without further warning, Miss Miranda's fingernails began scribbling energetically up and down my inner thighs, really giving me hell.
It was a shock to my system and got me scream-laughing immediately. "AAAAAHHH AHAAA HAAA AAIAAA AAAH AAAH NOOO-HOOO AAAH HAAA AAHHH!" Anyone listening would think she was murdering me, not tickling me… except for that uncontrollable laugh in every scream.
She seemed to really enjoy this. She teased her cruel nails up and down my thighs. She traced behind my knees, which tickled like MAD and made my ass bounce vigorously up and down. She crawled her tickly nails along the line where my briefs circled my legs, right next to my groin. The crooks of my legs were insanely sensitive and she took every evil advantage of this.
"Kootchie-kootchie-kootchie! Oh no, my poor ticklish boy. You poor little thing!" Her voice was pure delight as I hollered for mercy that wouldn't come. "The only way to get me to stop now is to sign that contract. You know you have to sign it!"
For many long minutes more, this was my whole world. Her nails danced over my legs, thighs, crooks of my legs, and into my hips. They scrabbled back up to torment my stomach and navel. Miranda's evil fingers scurried up my ribs and dug back into my armpits. I bucked and begged and laughed and squealed. I felt my blindfold sticking to my face with tears. I was a wreck, a complete helpless wreck. Finally, my begging began to change tune.
"Paa-haa-LEEE-HEESE! L-let me sii-iign i-hi-hiit! AAAHHH AHahahaa! I c-can't! Let- le-het me sign, PA-LEE-HEEASE! ANY-AAAA HAAA HAAA ANY-ANYTHING P-PA-HAHAHA-LEEASE! I WA-HAA-HAANT TO SIII-HIIIGN!"
She let me cry and plead for several more minutes before finally, finally ceasing. I hung limp in the stocks and gulped oxygen. Behind my blindfold, I saw explosions of color as I drew in breath. I felt Miss Miranda's soft hand on my cheek. I heard her voice, but she wasn't talking to me.
"Emmaline, cancel the rest of my interviews. Benson is perfect, just what I've been looking for. Bring in the contract, please."
A voice answered through a phone speaker, "Yes, Miss Miranda. I'll be right there."
I moaned softly. Now someone else was going to see me like this too? I felt my gut plunge with new embarrassment.
As I heard the door open and a new set of heels stepping along the floor, Miss Miranda took off my blindfold. The light was too bright for a moment, but then I opened my eyes. Emmaline was the secretary I had seen before, the redhead. She was shorter and plumper than Miss Miranda, extremely cute, with a heart-shaped face. She was grinning brightly at me. I could feel my whole body blushing.
"Oh, he looks so cute like this," she commented, stepping closer. "Are you right-handed?"
I gaped for a moment and nodded. She put the pen in my hand without releasing my wrist from the restraints. "Ah, aren't you going to untie me?" I asked nervously.
Emmaline held up a clipboard with a stapled pile of papers and a dotted line. "Sign here, dollface," she said, instead of answering my question.
"You'll get what you want after you sign," Miss Miranda added in a low, sultry voice. Very pointedly, she looked down to the huge bulge in my underwear.
I gulped and blinked and immediately touched the pen to the paper. It was clumsy, but I scribbled my name on the line. Emmaline plucked the pen right back out of my hand and took the clipboard away. Miss Miranda pushed her hand against my cheek to turn my face to look at her.
She was smiling and I felt a wash of relief go over me. That smile could get me to do anything for her. "You're such a good boy," she told me, which sent another relieving wave through me. "Let's finish up this interview and you can go home and get ready for your first day. You're starting full time tomorrow. Emmaline, will you do the honors as I give my new assistant a fresh blindfold?"
"With pleasure, Miss Miranda!" Emmaline said. I saw her lift a pair of scissors just before my new boss placed a dry strip of silk around my eyes and blindfolded me again.
Cold steel touched my hip and I flinched, gasping. I heard a snip and felt the steel on the other side too. Then my underpants were being pulled away, revealing my rock hard penis to the two women.
I heard heels clicking on the floor. Miss Miranda's voice trailed down to my feet. "I haven't even touched these feet yet," she cooed. I felt a new, raw jolt of panic.
I was giggling nervously before she even touched me. "Oh-ho-ho, plee-hease, M-Miss Miranda, please don't do that." My toes tried to bend down, but they were tied securely and couldn't budge an inch.
"I'm going to tickle your feet," she told me. "There isn't anything you can do about it, tickle-boy. Tell me, Benson--" I felt a feather dance up my left sole and I about leapt out of my skin, letting out a sharp laugh.
"AAAH Haa-haaa! Ohgod, noo-hoo-hoo, no!"
Miss Miranda finished her thought, "--Have you ever come while being tickled?"
Before I could answer, the feather was moving again. It wiggled ticklishly along my arch and caused a shock of ticklish agony as it went higher and slid between my middle and ring toes. My back rounded and my body lifted up out of the chair as I shrieked helpless laughter.
"HOOOO-HOOO HOO NOO-HOOO! NONO NOOO-HOOO!! D-DON'T DOO-HOO THIS, PL-EEE-HEEE-HEEESE!"
"Tickle, tickle, tickle," Miranda giggled. Her feather teased and teased, flitting up and down my arch and then sliding between each of my toes in turn.
My ass bounced wildly up and down in the chair. My arms and legs strained like crazy and I rocked my head forward and back, repeatedly thumping my skull into the soft padded chair back behind me. As her feather teased one foot, I felt her nails lightly, monstrously dragging along my other foot. My agony heightened to a whole new level.
I wailed and screamed, laughing from deep down in my stomach. My whole body struggled and quaked and I just couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything but feel every horrific, ticklish moment of it. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse… that's when a new feather started stroking up between my legs, slowly, slowly approaching my helpless, naked cock. Emmaline was giggling, adding her own taunts, "Tickle, tickle, Benson. My feather's coming for you. Heehee. You can't get away from me..."
I shook my head back and forth and cried and pleaded as hard as I could. "NO-N-NO NO. N-NOT THE-HEE-HERE, PLEE-HEE-HEEASE!" I wriggled and bucked like hell trying to get that feather away. But it was no use. It slid up and teased both of my inner thighs, then both of the crooks of my legs. And finally, horrifically, the tickly feather stroked against my balls.
The sensation shot me through the ceiling. I practically levitated out of my chair, held down by the restraints. Combined with the constant, maddening tickling of my feet, this touch to my genitals drove me absolutely ballistic. I couldn't form words anymore. All I could do was just howl and laugh and sob hysterically.
It went on forever, for minutes and minutes on end. Fingernails grazed and tickled up and down my feet and up to the base of my toes, scratching lightly and sending god-awful shocks of tickling through me. Miss Miranda didn't miss a beat and followed the nails with more feather strokes.
All the while, Emmaline just lightly danced her feather around my cock. She feathered up and down my shaft, around and around every nook of my balls, and particularly studied the head and foreskin of my cock with the delicate tip of the feather.
I couldn't fucking stand it. It was hell beyond anything I'd ever felt before. My own wailing laughter filled my ears, echoing in the large room.
"AAAAAH HAAA HAAAAHHH AAIIAAA HAAA HAAAA!!! AIAAAA AAAHH HAAAAAA HAAH HAAA!!!"
Cutting right through it, I heard Miranda's voice. "You're all mine, Benson. All mine. The feather is going to tickle an orgasm out of you, tickle-boy. You feel yourself about to come, don't you? Oh, it's going to tickle sooooo much!"
Her words were hypnotic. As she said it, I felt the pressure build inside. I wanted nothing but to let go and orgasm. One wiggly touch of the feather against the ultra-sensitive slit at the head of my cock brought me to the edge. I couldn't have stopped myself if I wanted to.
An enormous orgasm rocked through me and hot semen exploded from me. I felt it shoot over my own torso. At the moment of climax, Miss Miranda really scribbled her nails into my soles and up between my toes, increasing the torment exponentially.
The tickling kept on going as the last of my semen pumped out of me and my twitching cock began to relax. The touches on my feet lightened to faint up and down strokes. The feather dragged over my even more sensitive genitals just a few more times and then ceased.
I was completely spent, just a limp, sweaty, gasping heap in the stocks.
"I do love a bit of post-orgasm torture," said Miss Miranda. I felt a thrill of panic again, until she added, "But not yet. Not today. My little tickle-boy has been through enough for his first time."
Her warm hands rubbed up and down my aching soles, soothing me. I sighed deeply. "Oh… thank you. Thank you, Miss… Miss Miranda."
"You're welcome, tickle-boy. Emmaline, let's get him cleaned up and locked up and then he can get dressed and go home for the day."
That caught my attention. "Locked up?"
A cold, wet wipe touched my torso and I flinched and gasped. Emmaline wiped up the semen and gave my dick a quick wipe as well. The sensation of the wipe on my already overtaxed cock was intense and sent new feelings through me. I felt like I could get hard again and come all over again. But instead, I felt something else. Cool metal slid over my limp dick and up under my ballsack. It tightened securely and I heard a click.
My dick was locked in something. A cage. A dick-shaped metal cage.
"This chastity device is part of your contract," Miranda told me. I felt tugging on my toes and realized she was untying me. A moment later, a lock clicked and I felt her lift the stocks away, freeing my feet. "You'll wear it in all of your non-working hours. It assures that you won't get up to any excitement without me."
Emmaline pulled the blindfold from my eyes and I immediately looked down to see my penis trapped in my shiny new chastity device. I could see I should still be able to piss through it, but there was no way I'd be able to stroke myself. My stomach felt heavy and my jaw fell. "Oh… oh my god."
Both women each unlocked one of my wrists and my arms dropped heavily. My body was completely exhausted from head to toe.
"Welcome to your new job, tickle-boy," said Miss Miranda, my new boss, as she gave me that heart-stirring smile once again. "Now get dressed. Go home. And I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."
There was one guy ahead of me. I got there early and I thought I'd have to wait 30 minutes, but he came out, completely red in the face and walking fast for the exit. I didn't know what to make of that, but I didn't have time to think before the secretary spoke.
"That means you're up, Benson." That was me. I stood up. I was dressed in a nice suit, my hair combed neatly. The secretary was a redhead, about my age, 25 or so. She smiled at me as I walked in.
"Good luck," she said. "Relax. I have a feeling you'll do just fine."
The office was huge, on a high rise with big windows. Miranda's desk was at the back of the room and she was framed by the windows behind her. I noticed there was a section of the room hidden with curtains and another part with several doors, but that wasn't my focus right now. My focus was her.
She was an older lady, maybe in her late 40's I thought, but not at all any less attractive for her age. Like a wine or cheese, she was the kind of woman who got better with a few years. She had long black hair, a nice blouse and an A-line skirt, and her full lips were done in dark red lipstick. She smiled. I felt at once I could do anything for that smile.
"Please, sit down," she said, gesturing to a chair on the other side of her desk. "This is going to be unlike any interview you've had before," she began. "I'm looking for a personal assistant with some very specific skills. Looking at you now and having already seen your resume, I think you might be a good fit."
I sat down and put my folder in front of me, opening it up to take out my resume. "Yes, Mrs. Miranda. I just graduated with my degree in business…"
She lifted a finger - long fingernails, painted red, I noticed - "Shh. Miss Miranda," she corrected gently. "And yes, I saw. You don't need to sell yourself. Just relax and answer a few questions, darling. Answer them honestly."
I was surprised by that, but I nodded my head and waited for the first question.
"Are you willing to do whatever it takes to get the job?" she asked first.
I nodded my head, "Well, yes, Miss Miranda. Of course."
She smiled. I knew what I said was 100% true. I'd do whatever she asked me to, if she smiled like that. "Benson, are you a risk-taker?"
That one made me hesitate. "I want to be," I answered. I was very new to the business world. I didn't have a ton of experience other than my degree and an internship. I was surprised I was even being considered for this position. "I think it's a little bit of a risk to be here now," I added.
She laughed a little at that and I took it as a good sign. "And Benson, do you find me attractive?"
The question caught me completely off-guard. I felt my skin get hotter and my pants felt a little tighter. "Y-yes, ma'am," I admitted.
"Good." She reached out and took away my folder of papers. She closed it in front of her and folded her perfect hands on top of it. "Remember, be honest. Are you ticklish, Benson?"
Again, I was caught off-guard. I didn't know what to say other than the truth. "Um, yes."
"How ticklish?" she asked at once. "On a scale of one to ten?"
"Oh, uh… haha. Pretty much a ten?" I was really blushing now. My face felt hot and I could see the backs of my hands turning red.
"That's what I like to hear." Miss Miranda dropped my folder into her wastebasket and got up. "Follow me, Benson."
I jumped up from my chair to follow her. She led me to the curtained area and pulled back the curtain. I couldn't have predicted what I was about to see there. It was a set of stocks, black and padded with leather. It was attached to a nice looking leather chair and the seat back had a crossbeam with restraints for a person's wrists. I gulped.
"I want to do a little test," she told me. "The salary I'm willing to offer you depends entirely on this test. If what you told me is true, you'll be paid very handsomely. Up to one million dollars a year."
My jaw dropped. I was expecting a nine dollar an hour job. Maybe sixteen if I was lucky. But… a million dollars a year?
"Take off your clothes," she instructed. "Strip down to your underpants."
I hesitated, but how could I pass it up? I kicked off my dress shoes and loosened my silk tie. I pulled off my coat. When I went to unbutton my shirt, my hands were shaking. Miss Miranda saw this and hushed me softly.
"Shhhh, Benson." She reached out with her beautiful hands and began to undo the buttons for me. "Don't be nervous. Don't think about it. You're doing just fine. So far, you have everything I want."
I felt my heart flutter a little. I wanted nothing more than to work for this woman and do a good job. In no time, I was down to nothing but my socks and briefs. She told me to sit in the chair and I did. My heartbeat was in my ears as she strapped me in. My arms were spread out like a T. My legs were stretched in front of me. She peeled my socks off inside out and giggled when she saw my bare feet.
And then she shut the stocks around my ankles and locked me in tight, spinning the key on her finger before tucking it away into her cleavage. My underpants felt too small.
But that wasn't all. She took a thin cord and began to tie my toes. I was really surprised by that and squirmed a little. But it was too late. I was already in this vulnerable position and there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. She tied each toe individually, spreading them all out. I never felt so helpless and so nervous.
"Wonderful," she said, stepping back to my head. "But one more touch." She brought out a long strip of black silk and wrapped my eyes. I gasped as the world went dark and she tied it snugly around my head, blindfolding me effectively. "There. You look good, Benson."
I felt her fingers trail down my torso. It was a light touch and sent a shock through me. I giggled a little.
"That's good," she cooed. I heard her heels on the floor and I heard a sound, like she was opening up a box nearby and rummaging around. "Where are you most ticklish, Benson?"
I was really breathing fast now. I had never been tied up like this and I'd definitely never been tickled while tied up. Words fell out of my mouth, "M-Miss Miranda. I'm really ticklish. If you tied me up to tickle me, uh, I don't know what I'll do. I don't know if I can take that, Miss Miranda."
Something soft and feathery touched my belly. It felt like a duster. I couldn't help but giggle. She teased my stomach and gently drew it up my side. I felt my anxiety spike as it went up towards my armpit.
"Aah!"
"Kootchie-kootchie," she teased. "Shh. I know, darling boy. Don't you worry about that. Answer my questions." She dragged the duster back down and teased it along the waistband of my briefs. I didn't know I was so ticklish there and I was giggling again.
"Heehehee. Um! M-my stomach," I answered. She lifted the duster to give me a moment to think. "My … armpits. My, um, feet. Those are the most t-ticklish, I think?"
"Let's find out if you're right."
She put her fingernails down by my hip and lightly dragged them up my side. I felt like I'd jump out of my skin. My back arched and my body tensed. Nervous laughter started out of me. And when she got to my armpit, I couldn't help but yelp out.
"Gotacha," she said. I heard the duster hit the floor and what happened next was a nightmare. I felt Miss Miranda's body press against mine as she put her fingers into both my armpits and began a scribbling assault with her polished fingernails. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"
My head fell back against the chair and I let out a loud SCREAM of laughter against my will. "AAAAAAAAAIIAAAA-HAAA HAAA HAAA!! AAaaah HA HAAAA!!"
I tugged hard in my bonds and my ass bounced in the chair. I couldn't control myself. I was at the mercy of this woman's tickling hands and she showed me none. It seemed like minutes went by, where she just scribbled and stroked and poked deep into the hollows of my armpits, driving me wild. All I could do was shriek and laugh and struggle helplessly.
Finally, she relented and my lungs relished deep breaths of air. My skin was on fire, still burning with the lingering sensations of the torturous tickling.
"Oh, my goodness. You really are so ticklish, aren't you?"
"P-please," I said, now that I could talk again. But I didn't get a break. I felt a soft, stiff feather stroke my right nipple. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a desperate giggle, "Paah-leee-eease, M-Miss Miranda. Heee-heee. Oh, no…"
"Oh yes." The feather swirled effortlessly, around and around, then flitted over my stiff nipple. I wheezed and my chest lifted against my will. I tried to turn my chest away, but the feather followed, relentless.
And then a second feather started teasing my left nipple too. My giggles increased. "Hee-hee-haa haaahaa. Ohmygod. Oh my god, no, please, n-not haahaaa… not this. Hnn!"
I was writhing, twisting, trying to get away from the bright, vibrant tickling to my nipples. The tickling sensations crawled through my nervous system, sending ripples into my belly. And I felt heat in my cock. I was bulging in my underpants, which felt way too tight now. My pelvis squirmed and I wished she'd stop tickling me and rub my cock instead.
"Oh, beg all you want, my tickle-boy. I've got you right where I want you," she taunted. "Mm. We booked forty-five minutes for your interview. And you were half an hour early, too, weren't you? You do the math, silly tickle-boy."
One of the feathers began swirling down my torso. I couldn't help but squeal and squirm. To my dismay, Miss Miranda began to trace along the waistline of my briefs. I had no idea that I was so damnedably ticklish there. My back arched and my laughter and squeals increased.
"Heee! Hee-heee ho-hooo no! No, p-lease, I'm g-going insa-haane!"
Miss Miranda chuckled, a rich, sweet sound. "Hmm hmm. Yes, you are. You're going insaaaane from the tickling. Tickle, tickle…" I felt the feather start to swirl around my bellybutton. I choked a little on my own laughter. I shook my head back and forth and breathlessly tried to beg, "No… hoo-hoo, noo…"
The feather cruelly swirled into my hypersensitive navel and dipped in deep. I felt my whole body spasm with ticklishness. My back arched and my ass bounced in my chair. "AAAH-HAAA HAAA HAAA! NOOO-HOOOO!"
The feather at my nipple was abandoned and the CEO's terrible nails began flittering down my torso, driving me crazy when they got to the line of my briefs. My hips bucked energetically, trying to get some attention to my yearning cock. All the while, I yowled and laughed and pulled in my binds to no avail. I couldn't escape. I had to just writhe and take it as this woman had her way with me, however she wanted to.
"What a ticklish little bellybutton! What a tickle-tickle-ticklish little tummy!" Her words burrowed in my mind and seemed to heighten the sensations. Coupled with the blindfold, taking away one of my vital senses, this was making my already ticklish skin even more vulnerable to her touches.
I quaked and struggled while she scribbled her fingernails along my waist and up my ribs. Her incessant feather just kept dipping and twirling around in my navel, shooting intense ticklish feelings deep into my gut and straight to my groin. I was in hell. And she tirelessly tortured me like that for several more long minutes. I was breathless and thought I might pass out when she finally ceased.
Again, my lungs drew in deep breaths and my head was swimming, euphoric.
"My, my. What have we here? Hmm. It looks like someone is turned on by all of this activity. Are you a ticklish little pervert, Benson?" She traced a single fingernail up the inside of my leg. It sent a shock through me and my legs shivered.
I didn't know what to say. I stammered. "I- I d-didn't think I was?" She was letting me talk. This was my chance! I sucked in a deep breath and pleaded, "B-but, please, don't tickle me anymore. I really can't take it, Miss Miranda. I'm so ticklish and it's like hell to me, really. Please, just stop tickling me and let me come, please?"
"Hmmmm." She spidered her fingernails up the same path up my leg, which made me yelp and shiver harder.
"Haa-haa. Oh, M-Mi-hiss Miraa-haanda, paaah-lee-heease." I squirmed and hoped she'd finally touch my groin when she reached the top of my inner thigh, but she didn't. She just rested her hand there, tapping her nails thoughtfully. Each tap made me flinch, despite myself. "Hn! Hn!"
"Here's the deal, Benson." I couldn't see her, but I could hear the devious smile in her voice. "You've got the job. I want you. You'll be my personal assistant. My personal tickle-slave assistant. Your salary is one million dollars a year. When you sign this contract, it means you're mine. I can do whatever I want to you during our working hours and you have to follow any and all of my instructions. And your contract is for ten years."
I sputtered. Ten years? I didn't think I could take ten more minutes! "Wh-what?! No, th-that's insane!"
"Too bad." Without further warning, Miss Miranda's fingernails began scribbling energetically up and down my inner thighs, really giving me hell.
It was a shock to my system and got me scream-laughing immediately. "AAAAAHHH AHAAA HAAA AAIAAA AAAH AAAH NOOO-HOOO AAAH HAAA AAHHH!" Anyone listening would think she was murdering me, not tickling me… except for that uncontrollable laugh in every scream.
She seemed to really enjoy this. She teased her cruel nails up and down my thighs. She traced behind my knees, which tickled like MAD and made my ass bounce vigorously up and down. She crawled her tickly nails along the line where my briefs circled my legs, right next to my groin. The crooks of my legs were insanely sensitive and she took every evil advantage of this.
"Kootchie-kootchie-kootchie! Oh no, my poor ticklish boy. You poor little thing!" Her voice was pure delight as I hollered for mercy that wouldn't come. "The only way to get me to stop now is to sign that contract. You know you have to sign it!"
For many long minutes more, this was my whole world. Her nails danced over my legs, thighs, crooks of my legs, and into my hips. They scrabbled back up to torment my stomach and navel. Miranda's evil fingers scurried up my ribs and dug back into my armpits. I bucked and begged and laughed and squealed. I felt my blindfold sticking to my face with tears. I was a wreck, a complete helpless wreck. Finally, my begging began to change tune.
"Paa-haa-LEEE-HEESE! L-let me sii-iign i-hi-hiit! AAAHHH AHahahaa! I c-can't! Let- le-het me sign, PA-LEE-HEEASE! ANY-AAAA HAAA HAAA ANY-ANYTHING P-PA-HAHAHA-LEEASE! I WA-HAA-HAANT TO SIII-HIIIGN!"
She let me cry and plead for several more minutes before finally, finally ceasing. I hung limp in the stocks and gulped oxygen. Behind my blindfold, I saw explosions of color as I drew in breath. I felt Miss Miranda's soft hand on my cheek. I heard her voice, but she wasn't talking to me.
"Emmaline, cancel the rest of my interviews. Benson is perfect, just what I've been looking for. Bring in the contract, please."
A voice answered through a phone speaker, "Yes, Miss Miranda. I'll be right there."
I moaned softly. Now someone else was going to see me like this too? I felt my gut plunge with new embarrassment.
As I heard the door open and a new set of heels stepping along the floor, Miss Miranda took off my blindfold. The light was too bright for a moment, but then I opened my eyes. Emmaline was the secretary I had seen before, the redhead. She was shorter and plumper than Miss Miranda, extremely cute, with a heart-shaped face. She was grinning brightly at me. I could feel my whole body blushing.
"Oh, he looks so cute like this," she commented, stepping closer. "Are you right-handed?"
I gaped for a moment and nodded. She put the pen in my hand without releasing my wrist from the restraints. "Ah, aren't you going to untie me?" I asked nervously.
Emmaline held up a clipboard with a stapled pile of papers and a dotted line. "Sign here, dollface," she said, instead of answering my question.
"You'll get what you want after you sign," Miss Miranda added in a low, sultry voice. Very pointedly, she looked down to the huge bulge in my underwear.
I gulped and blinked and immediately touched the pen to the paper. It was clumsy, but I scribbled my name on the line. Emmaline plucked the pen right back out of my hand and took the clipboard away. Miss Miranda pushed her hand against my cheek to turn my face to look at her.
She was smiling and I felt a wash of relief go over me. That smile could get me to do anything for her. "You're such a good boy," she told me, which sent another relieving wave through me. "Let's finish up this interview and you can go home and get ready for your first day. You're starting full time tomorrow. Emmaline, will you do the honors as I give my new assistant a fresh blindfold?"
"With pleasure, Miss Miranda!" Emmaline said. I saw her lift a pair of scissors just before my new boss placed a dry strip of silk around my eyes and blindfolded me again.
Cold steel touched my hip and I flinched, gasping. I heard a snip and felt the steel on the other side too. Then my underpants were being pulled away, revealing my rock hard penis to the two women.
I heard heels clicking on the floor. Miss Miranda's voice trailed down to my feet. "I haven't even touched these feet yet," she cooed. I felt a new, raw jolt of panic.
I was giggling nervously before she even touched me. "Oh-ho-ho, plee-hease, M-Miss Miranda, please don't do that." My toes tried to bend down, but they were tied securely and couldn't budge an inch.
"I'm going to tickle your feet," she told me. "There isn't anything you can do about it, tickle-boy. Tell me, Benson--" I felt a feather dance up my left sole and I about leapt out of my skin, letting out a sharp laugh.
"AAAH Haa-haaa! Ohgod, noo-hoo-hoo, no!"
Miss Miranda finished her thought, "--Have you ever come while being tickled?"
Before I could answer, the feather was moving again. It wiggled ticklishly along my arch and caused a shock of ticklish agony as it went higher and slid between my middle and ring toes. My back rounded and my body lifted up out of the chair as I shrieked helpless laughter.
"HOOOO-HOOO HOO NOO-HOOO! NONO NOOO-HOOO!! D-DON'T DOO-HOO THIS, PL-EEE-HEEE-HEEESE!"
"Tickle, tickle, tickle," Miranda giggled. Her feather teased and teased, flitting up and down my arch and then sliding between each of my toes in turn.
My ass bounced wildly up and down in the chair. My arms and legs strained like crazy and I rocked my head forward and back, repeatedly thumping my skull into the soft padded chair back behind me. As her feather teased one foot, I felt her nails lightly, monstrously dragging along my other foot. My agony heightened to a whole new level.
I wailed and screamed, laughing from deep down in my stomach. My whole body struggled and quaked and I just couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything but feel every horrific, ticklish moment of it. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse… that's when a new feather started stroking up between my legs, slowly, slowly approaching my helpless, naked cock. Emmaline was giggling, adding her own taunts, "Tickle, tickle, Benson. My feather's coming for you. Heehee. You can't get away from me..."
I shook my head back and forth and cried and pleaded as hard as I could. "NO-N-NO NO. N-NOT THE-HEE-HERE, PLEE-HEE-HEEASE!" I wriggled and bucked like hell trying to get that feather away. But it was no use. It slid up and teased both of my inner thighs, then both of the crooks of my legs. And finally, horrifically, the tickly feather stroked against my balls.
The sensation shot me through the ceiling. I practically levitated out of my chair, held down by the restraints. Combined with the constant, maddening tickling of my feet, this touch to my genitals drove me absolutely ballistic. I couldn't form words anymore. All I could do was just howl and laugh and sob hysterically.
It went on forever, for minutes and minutes on end. Fingernails grazed and tickled up and down my feet and up to the base of my toes, scratching lightly and sending god-awful shocks of tickling through me. Miss Miranda didn't miss a beat and followed the nails with more feather strokes.
All the while, Emmaline just lightly danced her feather around my cock. She feathered up and down my shaft, around and around every nook of my balls, and particularly studied the head and foreskin of my cock with the delicate tip of the feather.
I couldn't fucking stand it. It was hell beyond anything I'd ever felt before. My own wailing laughter filled my ears, echoing in the large room.
"AAAAAH HAAA HAAAAHHH AAIIAAA HAAA HAAAA!!! AIAAAA AAAHH HAAAAAA HAAH HAAA!!!"
Cutting right through it, I heard Miranda's voice. "You're all mine, Benson. All mine. The feather is going to tickle an orgasm out of you, tickle-boy. You feel yourself about to come, don't you? Oh, it's going to tickle sooooo much!"
Her words were hypnotic. As she said it, I felt the pressure build inside. I wanted nothing but to let go and orgasm. One wiggly touch of the feather against the ultra-sensitive slit at the head of my cock brought me to the edge. I couldn't have stopped myself if I wanted to.
An enormous orgasm rocked through me and hot semen exploded from me. I felt it shoot over my own torso. At the moment of climax, Miss Miranda really scribbled her nails into my soles and up between my toes, increasing the torment exponentially.
The tickling kept on going as the last of my semen pumped out of me and my twitching cock began to relax. The touches on my feet lightened to faint up and down strokes. The feather dragged over my even more sensitive genitals just a few more times and then ceased.
I was completely spent, just a limp, sweaty, gasping heap in the stocks.
"I do love a bit of post-orgasm torture," said Miss Miranda. I felt a thrill of panic again, until she added, "But not yet. Not today. My little tickle-boy has been through enough for his first time."
Her warm hands rubbed up and down my aching soles, soothing me. I sighed deeply. "Oh… thank you. Thank you, Miss… Miss Miranda."
"You're welcome, tickle-boy. Emmaline, let's get him cleaned up and locked up and then he can get dressed and go home for the day."
That caught my attention. "Locked up?"
A cold, wet wipe touched my torso and I flinched and gasped. Emmaline wiped up the semen and gave my dick a quick wipe as well. The sensation of the wipe on my already overtaxed cock was intense and sent new feelings through me. I felt like I could get hard again and come all over again. But instead, I felt something else. Cool metal slid over my limp dick and up under my ballsack. It tightened securely and I heard a click.
My dick was locked in something. A cage. A dick-shaped metal cage.
"This chastity device is part of your contract," Miranda told me. I felt tugging on my toes and realized she was untying me. A moment later, a lock clicked and I felt her lift the stocks away, freeing my feet. "You'll wear it in all of your non-working hours. It assures that you won't get up to any excitement without me."
Emmaline pulled the blindfold from my eyes and I immediately looked down to see my penis trapped in my shiny new chastity device. I could see I should still be able to piss through it, but there was no way I'd be able to stroke myself. My stomach felt heavy and my jaw fell. "Oh… oh my god."
Both women each unlocked one of my wrists and my arms dropped heavily. My body was completely exhausted from head to toe.
"Welcome to your new job, tickle-boy," said Miss Miranda, my new boss, as she gave me that heart-stirring smile once again. "Now get dressed. Go home. And I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."
