Po Lazarus
Registered User
- Joined
- May 24, 2011
- Messages
- 42
- Points
- 6
Note from the author:
I am writing this as a long-time holder of a different account to this one (I have written the specifics of the situation here -http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326614-New-account-Same-Me!-(Member-of-15-years-makes-new-account!-Read-all-about-it!)
This is the beginning of a one-off piece of erotic fiction that I have recently written, having not written anything, of any kind, for almost 15 years. I am in the process of planning for the writing of a book (Or trying to!) and have found that writing this is helping me to dust the cobwebs off of my literary craft - which are extensive, as I contracted Covid-19 in April and am suffering with some of the remnants of so-called long-Covid, the most maddening of which is "brain fog", which is intellectually debilitating to say the least. I'm still not writing as fluently as I previously had, and even then, I was no match for some of the wonderful writers we have here on the TMF, some of whom I am highly suspicious are professionals. But I've had a go.
Anyway, this is is the *prelude* to a fantasy that I have had for years, after working in the place and with the people described. If people like it and show an interest in reading more, I will continue to write it. If it sucks, the public will decide! The two women involved are real people and so the names have been changed for that reason, and I have changed them to the names of the female celebrities that the two real life girls resemble the nearest - Ruby Rose (But not quite as skinny) and Jennifer Lawrence, with that gorgeous golden tan she sometimes has. I was fortunate to have worked in an office which was populated almost exclusively by beautiful women, and if anyone is bothered I will continue to write this as if "he" were going on a tickling rampage through the office, and again I will change the names of the girls in question to the celebrities that they resemble the closest, so it will work on that level too from a fantasy point of view.
So here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
Something had changed.
He just felt it; it couldn’t be explained at first. He felt his body, his mind, alter in their essence. The appraisal – see: pontification of his endless professional faults – that he had been thus far struggling through with the two beautiful women sat across from him, in the poky office, became something more than another dreary workplace occurrence. It felt like a significant event, although he couldn’t say exactly why. He suddenly felt a shift, a move into some different scope of existence. Some wordless instinct, something was telling him he could do anything. He decided on a test. He flicked his finger, and Ruby’s pen launched out of her hand. The monologue she had been filibustering (about how she wanted – no, really wanted – to see him succeed, if he would just do this, or that, or whatever the hell it was she had been prattling on about) stopped, and she reacted with mild surprise, moving her head back slightly, and lifting a pencilled eyebrow. “and…Oops, dropped my pen” was all she could stammer out before leaning forward and picking it up, but he could see she was confused, and she had every right to be: he had forced the pen from her hand as she had been holding it; she knew full well that she hadn’t just dropped it, even if she wasn’t sure what had caused it to escape her possession. His inner befuddlement, curiosity, anticipation, and excitement had become further aroused. What was going on? A Dream? Had he lost his grip on reality? Were they finally going to come and cart him off? Was it some telekinetic, physically impossible marvel? Had he turned into a God? Had he died? Had his coffee been spiked with a hallucinogen? He supposed it was too early for such questions, and they would be academic anyway, as he was fairly sure no answers would be forthcoming. There was only one certainty: he should test things further, to confirm that he wasn’t imagining things.
He spent the next few minutes continuing the pretence of actively engaging with the asinine feedback that Ruby and Jennifer incessantly dictated to him, whilst conducting further clandestine experiments, the results of which only he would appreciate or even notice. He rotated his finger clockwise, and anticlockwise, and made the hands of the clock on the wall behind Ruby and Jennifer move the corresponding direction. He unlocked the clasp on the window, high above Ruby’s desk. He opened the window – it was silent – and closed it again slowly. He unfolded paperclips that were sat in the stationary jar, again in silence. It was whilst he was running the private trials of his newfound abilities that a plan started forming in the back of his mind that was so potentially exciting that he was becoming more than slightly giddy inside. But he had to be sure, and so he continued. With each micro-experiment he became surer.
He became slowly bolder. He pushed Jennifer’s office chair to the left ever so slightly, shifting it on its wheels. He could almost read her thoughts as she silently struggled to comprehend why her chair was moving when she herself had placed no physical effort into doing so. He made Ruby drop her pen again, just to see what she’d do. “What the hell?...” was all she could articulate. He plucked some of the pins out of the noticeboard on the wall, making them rain down onto the desk, and various pieces of paper drift down after them. The girls both span around to look, looking incredulous. “What’s going on in here!?” Jennifer asked. Of course, the question wasn’t aimed at anyone specifically. “Maybe it’s the office.” Ruby offered, without much conviction. Her usual office was being redecorated and she had had to temporarily decamp into a box office that had previously been a printing room. So that was a possible explanation for the strange events of the previous few minutes, and it was the best she had. But the girls were unsettled, unsure of themselves and were probably experiencing the same kind of mini-existential musings that he had had minutes earlier, even though they were probably less internally conscious of what they might mean if their suspicions were correct, and the fabric of reality had become altered. They looked at one another quizzically, and then at him, and he sensed some accusation in their eyes, even though of course they couldn’t allow themselves to believe that he was influencing the unexplained events in the room.
He, however, had become more advanced in his thinking. As the girls looked at him, the plan was growing in his brain, was edging further and further to the forefront of his mind, formulating. The plan was something he had thought of, fantasised about, for years, and the mere outside possibility of it becoming reality almost made him physically shudder. It was now – astoundingly – a legitimate possibility. But it required a further physical miracle. He would have to be able to produce objects out of thin air. After discovering the unlikely fact that he had somehow become possessed of an increasing telekinetic ability, it didn’t seem a stretch to wish for it. He knew what he was going to need, so he just thought about the items. Sure enough, they appeared where he wanted them to. Then more. All the equipment he would need, at least to start with. The joy that had been suddenly instilled in his heart made it pound. His suspicion had become tangible knowledge. He could do whatever he wanted. Maybe he was a God. At this point, he didn’t care. He just thought about what he was going to do, and he smiled. The stuff had appeared floating in mid-air, just above the desk behind the girls, who were presumably wondering why a huge grin had come about his face. He air-typed something on the keyboard towards the back of the desk, and watched it appear on Ruby’s open computer screen, on a Word document. He enlarged it, filling the screen. Then he let the items drop.
The clattering noise made both girls physically jump in their seats, and simultaneously turn in their chairs to face the desk. No one spoke, but the women’s thought processes were clearly the same, as their resultant simultaneous dramatised gasps and shudders wordlessly confirmed the answer to the question he had mischievously placed upon the screen, in a font size of 130: ‘Should we see if you’re ticklish?’. He didn’t allow the girls any chance at a further reaction. Spreading his fingers, he pinned both girls back into their office chairs. The handcuffs that, having just fallen, were still rocking slightly on the desk, rose up into the air, along with the gags, and both sets flew at the girls into exactly the places he wanted: a set of handcuffs rapped on each of their wrists and secured their arms to the armrests of their office chairs, and the gags went snugly into their mouths, affixing at the back of their heads.
The first thing he wanted to make sure was that they were physically comfortable. Aside from the specific way he had planned, he had no intention of otherwise causing anybody physical discomfort. It just wasn’t his thing to push things in that direction. But he would certainly have to restrain them as tickling – as he enjoyed it – was not a consensual enterprise. Not by a long shot. He thought about this a little further. This whole wonderful happening that he had for some reason been chosen to experience, just wouldn’t work if the women were to adhere to the conventional laws of biology. He wanted it so that they would not suffer hunger, dehydration, or feel the need to answer any calls of nature. He wondered, for a moment, if he could do this, and had some doubts. If he couldn’t, he would most likely be in a time-restricted situation, the prospect of which curbed his enthusiasm. He figured he might as well find out now if his newfound capabilities had limits. He concentrated on trying to make it happen. Both of the girls, as alarmed, confused and slightly upset as they were, shuffled noticeably in their chairs. He knew it had worked: the physical change in their bodies as they suddenly had pleasantly enriched nutrition and hydration must have been palpable to them. Aside from their mild dismay and apoplectic puzzlement, they showed no signs of physical distress. This was getting good. As a final touch, he clicked his fingers, and the door locked. Ruby whimpered meekly into her gag, and her eyes widened.
The key items were still to be produced. He had chosen not to produce them as part of his initial experimentation with fabricating objects because they would have been too bulky and too noticeable had he created them at the same time as the other restraints. But he couldn’t conceive of going further without them. He had a thought; he was learning constantly. Could he produce them instantly in the precise position that he required them? He couldn’t see why he shouldn’t try. He made a fist, then fanned out his hand. Both of the girls’ legs lifted in front of them and at precisely the same instant there appeared a set of bulky wooden stocks, trapping their feet. He had ensured in his imaginings that the stocks be the perfect height, both for him to access the targets within and also to not cause the trapped women discomfort. He had achieved both outcomes, although Jennifer had screamed into her gag at the shock of the event. Both girls were still looking alarmed and confused, and were probably questioning their own sanity. He now took some time to really study the girls and their differing but equally striking beauty. It was, he realised, a novelty to be able to do this unimpeded in their presence, as previously it would have seemed odd and possibly perverted, even though he had never been able to help but notice their obviously stunning good looks. Everyone did.
Ruby, his boss, was a sexy thing. Long, black curls adorned her svelte shoulders, framing her cherubic, yet slightly angular facial features. She had previously been overweight but had worked herself almost to death in the gym for the past couple of years and the results showed in her perfect physique. She wasn’t muscular, or too skinny, she was of a perfectly desirable build to most men. Her body also showed the effects of the alterations that her other extracurricular passion had caused: her love of getting tattooed. Looking at them, as he took in her bound form he remembered, on less formal visits to her office, her explaining what some of them were images of or were supposed to represent, but for the life of him couldn’t remember any of it now. All he could think about was how erotic they looked. It was moderately warm weather, and despite the slightly conservative leanings of the company, Ruby was very much her own person and had chosen today to wear a sleeveless blouse. This exposed the impressive full sleeve tattoo that covered her left arm, and a couple of others dotted about her right arm and on her wrist. He remembered a social media post that she had shared when she was getting a foot done, and how arousing it had looked, and he became even more animated at what was to come. She had a pale, milky complexion and the black ink of the tatts complemented it beautifully, working in tandem with her coal black hair to make her irrepressibly attractive. The skirt she had paired with the blouse was straining slightly against the tight thighs that were raised in a sitting position, as her legs were lifted up into the stocks, where her feet were fixed. She had medium red high heels on, and black nylons. Thinking about all of the stock ‘Hot boss’ characters from formulaic films and TV shows, he had always considered himself lucky to have the real thing for himself. And what a position he now had her in!
Jennifer, whilst not his boss, was senior to him in the office, but subordinate to Ruby. One area in which she was not subordinate, however, was her looks. She either equalled or surpassed Ruby in desirability, depending on your point of view. Dark brown hair, with elegantly, expensively dyed dark blonde ends, was today pulled back into a ponytail, pulled taught and forcing her beautiful face to the forefront of the attention of any eye that took her in. She had a strong nose, full lips and detailed makeup framed her wide, green eyes, with black mascara on display every time she slowly blinked. She had much bigger breasts, wider hips and a larger backside than Ruby did, however this was not offset by any excess baggage; she had a lovely, flat stomach. She lived near the office and he had seen her, after he had been working late, out for an after work run in tight, colourful lycra, so she also clearly looked after herself, although she had had to have time off for severe backache, which some had speculated had been caused by the size of her voluptuous but possibly impractical bosom. She wasn’t in lycra now, of course, with a cream coloured top and tight, black trousers that skirted dangerously into the territory of contravening the company’s “No jeans” rule, given that on close inspection they did appear to be denim. On her feet were grey suede ankle boots, and he could see black socks riding up between the top of the boots and the bottom of the trousers, with some of her delicious looking golden skin showing fractionally above the top of the socks.
He made sure to savour the sight. Then he moved on.
He started with Ruby, to the right. He quickly popped off her heels, taking them in his hands and letting them fall to the floor with a tap. Her black fabric-covered toes instinctively wiggled slightly on the removal of the shoes. He was getting the hand of the telekinesis, and raised a hand to beckon a pair of scissors from up out of the stationary box, into the air and across the room into his open hand. He grasped the nylons above one of Ruby’s ankles and cut around the circumference, slipping the nylon free off the foot as if taking off a sock. It was the foot with the tattoo, and he held the foot lovingly in his hand, admiring the ink. It was an image of a black flower, which complemented the milky-white flesh of the foot in the same way that the other tattoos that Ruby had did on the rest of her body. Seeing it on social media was one thing, but holding it in his hand something else entirely, and so he simply held it for a second, cherishing the moment. He then repeated the process for the other foot, which was not itself tattooed, but did have one wrapped around the ankle, giving the impression of a charm bracelet. Charm, indeed.
He didn’t want to beat around the bush, and so moved onto Jennifer quickly. The suede boots had zips going from her instep to her ankle, and he felt that he could already detect some ticklishness as he unzipped them down the side of her feet: she subtly flexed both feet from side-to-side slightly as he did this on each boot. After they were off and had hit the floor, the black cotton socks did not last long, and the sight he was greeted with after they were both removed was sumptuous. Jennifer’s golden tan skin positively lit up the tops of her feet and toes, with the soles being a slightly lighter shade of tan, almost to the point of being pale but not; an almost indescribable, positively edible colour which he could not think of the name for. He was struck. He moved his chair back to compare the stocked bare feet before him.
The lushness was arresting. Ruby’s pale, white feet, with black toenail polish (He doubted she bothered alternating the colour of her nails; her fingernails were almost always black) contrasted deliciously with the outstanding aesthetics of Jennifer’s buttery soles, which were facing him full-on as she was pointing her toes upwards, probably in apprehension. He realised, with unbridled glee, that both girl’s toes were perfect, with not an odd angle or irregular length among the twenty staring at him; they all plateaued perfectly, and the under pads were lovely. Their arches both had the requisite height that he loved to see in a woman’s foot, and there was no sign of stubble or other disfiguration. They were approximately the same size – average – although Jennifer’s feet were perhaps slightly more fleshy, in keeping with her physique in comparison to Ruby. They had both made the effort of keeping their feet well, and there was no rough skin in sight, although Jennifer had clearly had the more recent pedicure: her gelled toenails were a candied pink colour, a cute effect which caught the light from the bulbs in the ceiling and matched the polish on the elongated, manicured nails on her hands. She was just that sort of girl, he supposed. He savoured the sight before him, appreciating that this would most likely never happen to him again.
There was one thing left to do, and he set about doing it, at first with his hands and then with the newfound ability he had apprehended, as he realised that he could spare himself the physical effort. When it was finished, soft material held the girls toes snugly but comfortably upright in the tops of the stocks, pulling their soles taught and primed for targeting, just like in his beloved Tickle Abuse clips. Even though he had not said a word – he had never been one for monologing, and the situation would almost have been cheapened by speech – the girls seemed to have sensed what he was going to do, and started to plead in glottal, high whimpers through their gags. He didn’t see the sense in talking to them. He just began.
I am writing this as a long-time holder of a different account to this one (I have written the specifics of the situation here -http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326614-New-account-Same-Me!-(Member-of-15-years-makes-new-account!-Read-all-about-it!)
This is the beginning of a one-off piece of erotic fiction that I have recently written, having not written anything, of any kind, for almost 15 years. I am in the process of planning for the writing of a book (Or trying to!) and have found that writing this is helping me to dust the cobwebs off of my literary craft - which are extensive, as I contracted Covid-19 in April and am suffering with some of the remnants of so-called long-Covid, the most maddening of which is "brain fog", which is intellectually debilitating to say the least. I'm still not writing as fluently as I previously had, and even then, I was no match for some of the wonderful writers we have here on the TMF, some of whom I am highly suspicious are professionals. But I've had a go.
Anyway, this is is the *prelude* to a fantasy that I have had for years, after working in the place and with the people described. If people like it and show an interest in reading more, I will continue to write it. If it sucks, the public will decide! The two women involved are real people and so the names have been changed for that reason, and I have changed them to the names of the female celebrities that the two real life girls resemble the nearest - Ruby Rose (But not quite as skinny) and Jennifer Lawrence, with that gorgeous golden tan she sometimes has. I was fortunate to have worked in an office which was populated almost exclusively by beautiful women, and if anyone is bothered I will continue to write this as if "he" were going on a tickling rampage through the office, and again I will change the names of the girls in question to the celebrities that they resemble the closest, so it will work on that level too from a fantasy point of view.
So here it is. I hope you enjoy it.
Something had changed.
He just felt it; it couldn’t be explained at first. He felt his body, his mind, alter in their essence. The appraisal – see: pontification of his endless professional faults – that he had been thus far struggling through with the two beautiful women sat across from him, in the poky office, became something more than another dreary workplace occurrence. It felt like a significant event, although he couldn’t say exactly why. He suddenly felt a shift, a move into some different scope of existence. Some wordless instinct, something was telling him he could do anything. He decided on a test. He flicked his finger, and Ruby’s pen launched out of her hand. The monologue she had been filibustering (about how she wanted – no, really wanted – to see him succeed, if he would just do this, or that, or whatever the hell it was she had been prattling on about) stopped, and she reacted with mild surprise, moving her head back slightly, and lifting a pencilled eyebrow. “and…Oops, dropped my pen” was all she could stammer out before leaning forward and picking it up, but he could see she was confused, and she had every right to be: he had forced the pen from her hand as she had been holding it; she knew full well that she hadn’t just dropped it, even if she wasn’t sure what had caused it to escape her possession. His inner befuddlement, curiosity, anticipation, and excitement had become further aroused. What was going on? A Dream? Had he lost his grip on reality? Were they finally going to come and cart him off? Was it some telekinetic, physically impossible marvel? Had he turned into a God? Had he died? Had his coffee been spiked with a hallucinogen? He supposed it was too early for such questions, and they would be academic anyway, as he was fairly sure no answers would be forthcoming. There was only one certainty: he should test things further, to confirm that he wasn’t imagining things.
He spent the next few minutes continuing the pretence of actively engaging with the asinine feedback that Ruby and Jennifer incessantly dictated to him, whilst conducting further clandestine experiments, the results of which only he would appreciate or even notice. He rotated his finger clockwise, and anticlockwise, and made the hands of the clock on the wall behind Ruby and Jennifer move the corresponding direction. He unlocked the clasp on the window, high above Ruby’s desk. He opened the window – it was silent – and closed it again slowly. He unfolded paperclips that were sat in the stationary jar, again in silence. It was whilst he was running the private trials of his newfound abilities that a plan started forming in the back of his mind that was so potentially exciting that he was becoming more than slightly giddy inside. But he had to be sure, and so he continued. With each micro-experiment he became surer.
He became slowly bolder. He pushed Jennifer’s office chair to the left ever so slightly, shifting it on its wheels. He could almost read her thoughts as she silently struggled to comprehend why her chair was moving when she herself had placed no physical effort into doing so. He made Ruby drop her pen again, just to see what she’d do. “What the hell?...” was all she could articulate. He plucked some of the pins out of the noticeboard on the wall, making them rain down onto the desk, and various pieces of paper drift down after them. The girls both span around to look, looking incredulous. “What’s going on in here!?” Jennifer asked. Of course, the question wasn’t aimed at anyone specifically. “Maybe it’s the office.” Ruby offered, without much conviction. Her usual office was being redecorated and she had had to temporarily decamp into a box office that had previously been a printing room. So that was a possible explanation for the strange events of the previous few minutes, and it was the best she had. But the girls were unsettled, unsure of themselves and were probably experiencing the same kind of mini-existential musings that he had had minutes earlier, even though they were probably less internally conscious of what they might mean if their suspicions were correct, and the fabric of reality had become altered. They looked at one another quizzically, and then at him, and he sensed some accusation in their eyes, even though of course they couldn’t allow themselves to believe that he was influencing the unexplained events in the room.
He, however, had become more advanced in his thinking. As the girls looked at him, the plan was growing in his brain, was edging further and further to the forefront of his mind, formulating. The plan was something he had thought of, fantasised about, for years, and the mere outside possibility of it becoming reality almost made him physically shudder. It was now – astoundingly – a legitimate possibility. But it required a further physical miracle. He would have to be able to produce objects out of thin air. After discovering the unlikely fact that he had somehow become possessed of an increasing telekinetic ability, it didn’t seem a stretch to wish for it. He knew what he was going to need, so he just thought about the items. Sure enough, they appeared where he wanted them to. Then more. All the equipment he would need, at least to start with. The joy that had been suddenly instilled in his heart made it pound. His suspicion had become tangible knowledge. He could do whatever he wanted. Maybe he was a God. At this point, he didn’t care. He just thought about what he was going to do, and he smiled. The stuff had appeared floating in mid-air, just above the desk behind the girls, who were presumably wondering why a huge grin had come about his face. He air-typed something on the keyboard towards the back of the desk, and watched it appear on Ruby’s open computer screen, on a Word document. He enlarged it, filling the screen. Then he let the items drop.
The clattering noise made both girls physically jump in their seats, and simultaneously turn in their chairs to face the desk. No one spoke, but the women’s thought processes were clearly the same, as their resultant simultaneous dramatised gasps and shudders wordlessly confirmed the answer to the question he had mischievously placed upon the screen, in a font size of 130: ‘Should we see if you’re ticklish?’. He didn’t allow the girls any chance at a further reaction. Spreading his fingers, he pinned both girls back into their office chairs. The handcuffs that, having just fallen, were still rocking slightly on the desk, rose up into the air, along with the gags, and both sets flew at the girls into exactly the places he wanted: a set of handcuffs rapped on each of their wrists and secured their arms to the armrests of their office chairs, and the gags went snugly into their mouths, affixing at the back of their heads.
The first thing he wanted to make sure was that they were physically comfortable. Aside from the specific way he had planned, he had no intention of otherwise causing anybody physical discomfort. It just wasn’t his thing to push things in that direction. But he would certainly have to restrain them as tickling – as he enjoyed it – was not a consensual enterprise. Not by a long shot. He thought about this a little further. This whole wonderful happening that he had for some reason been chosen to experience, just wouldn’t work if the women were to adhere to the conventional laws of biology. He wanted it so that they would not suffer hunger, dehydration, or feel the need to answer any calls of nature. He wondered, for a moment, if he could do this, and had some doubts. If he couldn’t, he would most likely be in a time-restricted situation, the prospect of which curbed his enthusiasm. He figured he might as well find out now if his newfound capabilities had limits. He concentrated on trying to make it happen. Both of the girls, as alarmed, confused and slightly upset as they were, shuffled noticeably in their chairs. He knew it had worked: the physical change in their bodies as they suddenly had pleasantly enriched nutrition and hydration must have been palpable to them. Aside from their mild dismay and apoplectic puzzlement, they showed no signs of physical distress. This was getting good. As a final touch, he clicked his fingers, and the door locked. Ruby whimpered meekly into her gag, and her eyes widened.
The key items were still to be produced. He had chosen not to produce them as part of his initial experimentation with fabricating objects because they would have been too bulky and too noticeable had he created them at the same time as the other restraints. But he couldn’t conceive of going further without them. He had a thought; he was learning constantly. Could he produce them instantly in the precise position that he required them? He couldn’t see why he shouldn’t try. He made a fist, then fanned out his hand. Both of the girls’ legs lifted in front of them and at precisely the same instant there appeared a set of bulky wooden stocks, trapping their feet. He had ensured in his imaginings that the stocks be the perfect height, both for him to access the targets within and also to not cause the trapped women discomfort. He had achieved both outcomes, although Jennifer had screamed into her gag at the shock of the event. Both girls were still looking alarmed and confused, and were probably questioning their own sanity. He now took some time to really study the girls and their differing but equally striking beauty. It was, he realised, a novelty to be able to do this unimpeded in their presence, as previously it would have seemed odd and possibly perverted, even though he had never been able to help but notice their obviously stunning good looks. Everyone did.
Ruby, his boss, was a sexy thing. Long, black curls adorned her svelte shoulders, framing her cherubic, yet slightly angular facial features. She had previously been overweight but had worked herself almost to death in the gym for the past couple of years and the results showed in her perfect physique. She wasn’t muscular, or too skinny, she was of a perfectly desirable build to most men. Her body also showed the effects of the alterations that her other extracurricular passion had caused: her love of getting tattooed. Looking at them, as he took in her bound form he remembered, on less formal visits to her office, her explaining what some of them were images of or were supposed to represent, but for the life of him couldn’t remember any of it now. All he could think about was how erotic they looked. It was moderately warm weather, and despite the slightly conservative leanings of the company, Ruby was very much her own person and had chosen today to wear a sleeveless blouse. This exposed the impressive full sleeve tattoo that covered her left arm, and a couple of others dotted about her right arm and on her wrist. He remembered a social media post that she had shared when she was getting a foot done, and how arousing it had looked, and he became even more animated at what was to come. She had a pale, milky complexion and the black ink of the tatts complemented it beautifully, working in tandem with her coal black hair to make her irrepressibly attractive. The skirt she had paired with the blouse was straining slightly against the tight thighs that were raised in a sitting position, as her legs were lifted up into the stocks, where her feet were fixed. She had medium red high heels on, and black nylons. Thinking about all of the stock ‘Hot boss’ characters from formulaic films and TV shows, he had always considered himself lucky to have the real thing for himself. And what a position he now had her in!
Jennifer, whilst not his boss, was senior to him in the office, but subordinate to Ruby. One area in which she was not subordinate, however, was her looks. She either equalled or surpassed Ruby in desirability, depending on your point of view. Dark brown hair, with elegantly, expensively dyed dark blonde ends, was today pulled back into a ponytail, pulled taught and forcing her beautiful face to the forefront of the attention of any eye that took her in. She had a strong nose, full lips and detailed makeup framed her wide, green eyes, with black mascara on display every time she slowly blinked. She had much bigger breasts, wider hips and a larger backside than Ruby did, however this was not offset by any excess baggage; she had a lovely, flat stomach. She lived near the office and he had seen her, after he had been working late, out for an after work run in tight, colourful lycra, so she also clearly looked after herself, although she had had to have time off for severe backache, which some had speculated had been caused by the size of her voluptuous but possibly impractical bosom. She wasn’t in lycra now, of course, with a cream coloured top and tight, black trousers that skirted dangerously into the territory of contravening the company’s “No jeans” rule, given that on close inspection they did appear to be denim. On her feet were grey suede ankle boots, and he could see black socks riding up between the top of the boots and the bottom of the trousers, with some of her delicious looking golden skin showing fractionally above the top of the socks.
He made sure to savour the sight. Then he moved on.
He started with Ruby, to the right. He quickly popped off her heels, taking them in his hands and letting them fall to the floor with a tap. Her black fabric-covered toes instinctively wiggled slightly on the removal of the shoes. He was getting the hand of the telekinesis, and raised a hand to beckon a pair of scissors from up out of the stationary box, into the air and across the room into his open hand. He grasped the nylons above one of Ruby’s ankles and cut around the circumference, slipping the nylon free off the foot as if taking off a sock. It was the foot with the tattoo, and he held the foot lovingly in his hand, admiring the ink. It was an image of a black flower, which complemented the milky-white flesh of the foot in the same way that the other tattoos that Ruby had did on the rest of her body. Seeing it on social media was one thing, but holding it in his hand something else entirely, and so he simply held it for a second, cherishing the moment. He then repeated the process for the other foot, which was not itself tattooed, but did have one wrapped around the ankle, giving the impression of a charm bracelet. Charm, indeed.
He didn’t want to beat around the bush, and so moved onto Jennifer quickly. The suede boots had zips going from her instep to her ankle, and he felt that he could already detect some ticklishness as he unzipped them down the side of her feet: she subtly flexed both feet from side-to-side slightly as he did this on each boot. After they were off and had hit the floor, the black cotton socks did not last long, and the sight he was greeted with after they were both removed was sumptuous. Jennifer’s golden tan skin positively lit up the tops of her feet and toes, with the soles being a slightly lighter shade of tan, almost to the point of being pale but not; an almost indescribable, positively edible colour which he could not think of the name for. He was struck. He moved his chair back to compare the stocked bare feet before him.
The lushness was arresting. Ruby’s pale, white feet, with black toenail polish (He doubted she bothered alternating the colour of her nails; her fingernails were almost always black) contrasted deliciously with the outstanding aesthetics of Jennifer’s buttery soles, which were facing him full-on as she was pointing her toes upwards, probably in apprehension. He realised, with unbridled glee, that both girl’s toes were perfect, with not an odd angle or irregular length among the twenty staring at him; they all plateaued perfectly, and the under pads were lovely. Their arches both had the requisite height that he loved to see in a woman’s foot, and there was no sign of stubble or other disfiguration. They were approximately the same size – average – although Jennifer’s feet were perhaps slightly more fleshy, in keeping with her physique in comparison to Ruby. They had both made the effort of keeping their feet well, and there was no rough skin in sight, although Jennifer had clearly had the more recent pedicure: her gelled toenails were a candied pink colour, a cute effect which caught the light from the bulbs in the ceiling and matched the polish on the elongated, manicured nails on her hands. She was just that sort of girl, he supposed. He savoured the sight before him, appreciating that this would most likely never happen to him again.
There was one thing left to do, and he set about doing it, at first with his hands and then with the newfound ability he had apprehended, as he realised that he could spare himself the physical effort. When it was finished, soft material held the girls toes snugly but comfortably upright in the tops of the stocks, pulling their soles taught and primed for targeting, just like in his beloved Tickle Abuse clips. Even though he had not said a word – he had never been one for monologing, and the situation would almost have been cheapened by speech – the girls seemed to have sensed what he was going to do, and started to plead in glottal, high whimpers through their gags. He didn’t see the sense in talking to them. He just began.
