mistertickle123
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Mar 19, 2003
- Messages
- 320
- Points
- 28
We’ve discussed this so many times, both of us intrigued and excited about it, but today is the day and as I sit in the reception area with a full view of your work place I play the scenario out in my head over and over again.
I’ve been thinking about walking into your office, a scene we’ve chatted about countless times and after seeing you strutting around in a form fitting black dress, sheer, shiny tan pantyhose and black 4 inch heels, I continue fantasizing about something I plan to finally make happen, something we both desire.
To the receptionist, the staff and your boss I’m just another potential client, dressed smartly in a suit, carrying a briefcase containing the items I’ll use on you. When the cute girl at the reception desk tells me you can see me now and directs me to your office, I nonchalantly walk with her, then into your private room. I lock the door behind me, sit next to you, and after a few minutes of small talk, while you dangle a heel from your pretty nylon clad toes, I can wait no longer and jump from my seat, you offer little resistance and I rope tie you to your chair. Just in case you plan on getting loud, I cleve gag you with my tie. Your wrists bound to the arm rests, each ankle bound to a chair leg and rope securely tightened across your midsection and tied on the back of your seat ensure that escape is improbable, if not impossible.
Once completed, I step back to appreciate my handiwork. You look stunning, so sexy, so helpless, so vulnerable, starting to sweat, while awaiting the inevitable. I make you squirm a bit more, step in and brush your auburn hair from your face. My fingers and the tips of your hair ever so lightly brush the side of your neck, tickling you. Your senses, heightened by the predicament, magnify the tickly sensations and your shoulders scrunch as a muffled giggle and muttered plea for this to stop before the real tickling begins leaves your gagged mouth.
I open your day planner and notice that you have the entire afternoon free, “No doubt you’ve anticipated our living out this mutual fantasy” I whisper into her ear.
“No appointments other than that of your merciless tickler” I taunt.
Nervously you pull at the restraints.
Lifting your dress to your upper thighs, revealing two shapely legs, very ticklish thighs, knees and calves that you told me were weak spots. I compliment you on your outfit, especially your choice of shiny hosiery, while my fingers trace their way down your shivering legs.
I kneel at your feet and remove each of your heels, you desperately try to keep them on your feet but slipping a finger into the side of each heel and running it languidly over your warm, slippery, sensitive high arches, arches that slightly reveal themselves to me me even with your shoes on, seems to do the trick.
Looking into your eyes I ask “Are you ready for some fun?”
I’ve been thinking about walking into your office, a scene we’ve chatted about countless times and after seeing you strutting around in a form fitting black dress, sheer, shiny tan pantyhose and black 4 inch heels, I continue fantasizing about something I plan to finally make happen, something we both desire.
To the receptionist, the staff and your boss I’m just another potential client, dressed smartly in a suit, carrying a briefcase containing the items I’ll use on you. When the cute girl at the reception desk tells me you can see me now and directs me to your office, I nonchalantly walk with her, then into your private room. I lock the door behind me, sit next to you, and after a few minutes of small talk, while you dangle a heel from your pretty nylon clad toes, I can wait no longer and jump from my seat, you offer little resistance and I rope tie you to your chair. Just in case you plan on getting loud, I cleve gag you with my tie. Your wrists bound to the arm rests, each ankle bound to a chair leg and rope securely tightened across your midsection and tied on the back of your seat ensure that escape is improbable, if not impossible.
Once completed, I step back to appreciate my handiwork. You look stunning, so sexy, so helpless, so vulnerable, starting to sweat, while awaiting the inevitable. I make you squirm a bit more, step in and brush your auburn hair from your face. My fingers and the tips of your hair ever so lightly brush the side of your neck, tickling you. Your senses, heightened by the predicament, magnify the tickly sensations and your shoulders scrunch as a muffled giggle and muttered plea for this to stop before the real tickling begins leaves your gagged mouth.
I open your day planner and notice that you have the entire afternoon free, “No doubt you’ve anticipated our living out this mutual fantasy” I whisper into her ear.
“No appointments other than that of your merciless tickler” I taunt.
Nervously you pull at the restraints.
Lifting your dress to your upper thighs, revealing two shapely legs, very ticklish thighs, knees and calves that you told me were weak spots. I compliment you on your outfit, especially your choice of shiny hosiery, while my fingers trace their way down your shivering legs.
I kneel at your feet and remove each of your heels, you desperately try to keep them on your feet but slipping a finger into the side of each heel and running it languidly over your warm, slippery, sensitive high arches, arches that slightly reveal themselves to me me even with your shoes on, seems to do the trick.
Looking into your eyes I ask “Are you ready for some fun?”
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