StockNSoleStar
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- Aug 18, 2022
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I will refer to the colleague as J for privacy reasons.
I never thought I would get to live out some of my fantasies in a professional office environment, but J changed all that.
Lets start off, J is hot. She is 50 but, well...smoking. Petite frame, blonde platinum hair and very flirtacious and caring. The kind of lady that it is easy to make laugh. J is also an athlete so very competitive and fit. As a fan of feet, I can also say that J has stunning feet. I had caught her dangling a few times and between shoes changes when she was changing into her heels from her trainers. Her soles looked flawless and the skin always looked moisturised.
I introduced tickling to J as is my usual tactic, by discussing alternative methods of punishment for staff. Tickle torture is casually thrown in as a low level punishment and I wait for the shock and awe that follows when they declare "how ticklish I am" and "oh no, that would be torture". J hit these targets perfectly. "Oh no, i'm ridiculously ticklish, I couldn't survive that". And with that, my sights were set. Fast forward a few months and I inherited some of her staff from a switch around. They caused me some issues but of course I fed back to J that she had purposefully landed me with some right ones! Of course J was apologetic "Ohhhh noooo, I'm so sorryyyyy!". What were we to do about this predicament? Well of course I suggested the only thing which fit the crime, tickle torture. Of course, J played along, not realising my plans were all in motion. "Yes, that seems fair. But I am very ticklish!". Time went by and repeated references were made to her impending torment. It was called " The clock". Time was constantly added every time I deemed her transferred staff made a mistake. We even discussed where she would be tickled. As a foot man I was pushing for feet. Then jackpot "no, not my feet, I can't survive that, no, please not there." I mean, I had given her a choice of places to be tickled and she had failed to provide a suggestion. Even when I said feet, she just did a fake crying noise followed by "urghhhhh I'm in trouble". And thus the scene was set. Throw in a few references to tickle tools feathers, brushes and pipe cleaners) and all I needed to do was keep pushing the point.
Then the big day came. I was in a separate meeting room. In my bag were some feathers and my handy travel hairbrush. I was dealing with a big issue with another staff member and had a lunch date with another colleague but was desperate to catch J in between. I had already collared her and said it was time for her debt to be paid. With tickle tools in pocket I concluded my other meeting (which caused much frustration) and asked J to come into the meeting room for her tickling (and to discuss what had just happened). The latter took centre stage as we discussed the nerve of a member of staff. Especially as they had overrun and put me at risk of being late for my lunch date. We talked and talked, my lunch date time came about. But I wasn't passing this op up. J, sat in a desk chair. She was quite casual for an office day. Black trousers with a cream blouse but she had a sporty sweatshirt on as the office was freezing. On her feet, some nike trainers and a pair of brown socks. "Right", I said "time for your tickling then". "No", said J, "You haven't got time". "No, it's fine, I have pushed it back half an hour". “Oh I have been putting this off for a while, okay.” I reach for her foot and she locks it to the ground. She’s already maintaining her flirtyness with the tickling but instead goes with the tickle location as a mild fun protest. "No, not my feet, I can't. Do my neck, or my arm, here do my arm" she says as she pulls her sleeve up exposing her arm. I look at her quizzically, "No, we said your feet". I tug her leg gently again but she is planting it so down. "No, please not my feet. I know I’m a due a tickling but I don’t think I can take it there”. "Tell you what", I say. "We will just do 2 minutes today for one member of staff. Yeah". J answers “fine then” as she puts her foot on my lap and I pull out the feather from my pocket and place it on the table. Her shoe slides of easily revealing the brown socked foot. J adopts a position (it's like she was made for this!). She grips the arms of the chair and accepts her fate saying”2 minutes, start your timer”. I start to spider walk my fingers on her socked foot. I feel her tense. Her competitive nature kicks in and she tries not to laugh. "See, it's not that bad" I say, pulling her toes back and scratching her socked arches. She is struggling already, and I am not wasting anymore time on a socked foot. The sock is removed effortlessly revealing a perfect petite foot. Black nail polish covered her toes (I wasn't expecting that colour), the foot was slightly cold to touch but it was so soft. I pick up my feather and start to stroke her sole, it isn't having the desired effect. I can feel it in her foot, the tension easing off. Of course, J doesn't know I have the hairbrush in my pocket.
The brush is pulled out and teasingly waved towards J before I scrub that bare sole. She yelps, the tension comes back. She tosses her head left and right as laughter starts to trickle out. I use my 2 mins for everything they are. The brush torments the soles, goes around the heels, across her toes. All the time she plays her role, foot on my lap, chair arms gripped, begging me to stop. The worst part is her arches. I pull her toes back and firmly tickle with the brush. That's when the laughter comes and she starts to crack. "Hahahaha no more, please....I can't take it. That must be 2 mins. Is it?". I haven't set a timer of course. I am waiting for her to realise that. This starts to dawn on her. I pick up the feather again but this time use the quill end to drag up and down her arch and then we are done.
She pulls her foot back, out of breath, and slumps in her chair. "That was a workout" she says. I congratulate her on not breaking. She shows me her hand where she has an indentation of her nail from squeezing it so tight. "Am I done then?" she asks, putting her sock and shoe back on. "Oh no!", I say. That was only one staff member. Plenty of time on your clock still.
So, now I keep pressing the next time with her. Initially she swore she would never do it again but, as time has passed we have got back on to the fake crying and that perfect "urgghhhh I'm in trouble aren't I?!". Yes you are J, yes you are.
She talks about much of a fun rush it was and I do wonder if we will ever get to revisit it.
I never thought I would get to live out some of my fantasies in a professional office environment, but J changed all that.
Lets start off, J is hot. She is 50 but, well...smoking. Petite frame, blonde platinum hair and very flirtacious and caring. The kind of lady that it is easy to make laugh. J is also an athlete so very competitive and fit. As a fan of feet, I can also say that J has stunning feet. I had caught her dangling a few times and between shoes changes when she was changing into her heels from her trainers. Her soles looked flawless and the skin always looked moisturised.
I introduced tickling to J as is my usual tactic, by discussing alternative methods of punishment for staff. Tickle torture is casually thrown in as a low level punishment and I wait for the shock and awe that follows when they declare "how ticklish I am" and "oh no, that would be torture". J hit these targets perfectly. "Oh no, i'm ridiculously ticklish, I couldn't survive that". And with that, my sights were set. Fast forward a few months and I inherited some of her staff from a switch around. They caused me some issues but of course I fed back to J that she had purposefully landed me with some right ones! Of course J was apologetic "Ohhhh noooo, I'm so sorryyyyy!". What were we to do about this predicament? Well of course I suggested the only thing which fit the crime, tickle torture. Of course, J played along, not realising my plans were all in motion. "Yes, that seems fair. But I am very ticklish!". Time went by and repeated references were made to her impending torment. It was called " The clock". Time was constantly added every time I deemed her transferred staff made a mistake. We even discussed where she would be tickled. As a foot man I was pushing for feet. Then jackpot "no, not my feet, I can't survive that, no, please not there." I mean, I had given her a choice of places to be tickled and she had failed to provide a suggestion. Even when I said feet, she just did a fake crying noise followed by "urghhhhh I'm in trouble". And thus the scene was set. Throw in a few references to tickle tools feathers, brushes and pipe cleaners) and all I needed to do was keep pushing the point.
Then the big day came. I was in a separate meeting room. In my bag were some feathers and my handy travel hairbrush. I was dealing with a big issue with another staff member and had a lunch date with another colleague but was desperate to catch J in between. I had already collared her and said it was time for her debt to be paid. With tickle tools in pocket I concluded my other meeting (which caused much frustration) and asked J to come into the meeting room for her tickling (and to discuss what had just happened). The latter took centre stage as we discussed the nerve of a member of staff. Especially as they had overrun and put me at risk of being late for my lunch date. We talked and talked, my lunch date time came about. But I wasn't passing this op up. J, sat in a desk chair. She was quite casual for an office day. Black trousers with a cream blouse but she had a sporty sweatshirt on as the office was freezing. On her feet, some nike trainers and a pair of brown socks. "Right", I said "time for your tickling then". "No", said J, "You haven't got time". "No, it's fine, I have pushed it back half an hour". “Oh I have been putting this off for a while, okay.” I reach for her foot and she locks it to the ground. She’s already maintaining her flirtyness with the tickling but instead goes with the tickle location as a mild fun protest. "No, not my feet, I can't. Do my neck, or my arm, here do my arm" she says as she pulls her sleeve up exposing her arm. I look at her quizzically, "No, we said your feet". I tug her leg gently again but she is planting it so down. "No, please not my feet. I know I’m a due a tickling but I don’t think I can take it there”. "Tell you what", I say. "We will just do 2 minutes today for one member of staff. Yeah". J answers “fine then” as she puts her foot on my lap and I pull out the feather from my pocket and place it on the table. Her shoe slides of easily revealing the brown socked foot. J adopts a position (it's like she was made for this!). She grips the arms of the chair and accepts her fate saying”2 minutes, start your timer”. I start to spider walk my fingers on her socked foot. I feel her tense. Her competitive nature kicks in and she tries not to laugh. "See, it's not that bad" I say, pulling her toes back and scratching her socked arches. She is struggling already, and I am not wasting anymore time on a socked foot. The sock is removed effortlessly revealing a perfect petite foot. Black nail polish covered her toes (I wasn't expecting that colour), the foot was slightly cold to touch but it was so soft. I pick up my feather and start to stroke her sole, it isn't having the desired effect. I can feel it in her foot, the tension easing off. Of course, J doesn't know I have the hairbrush in my pocket.
The brush is pulled out and teasingly waved towards J before I scrub that bare sole. She yelps, the tension comes back. She tosses her head left and right as laughter starts to trickle out. I use my 2 mins for everything they are. The brush torments the soles, goes around the heels, across her toes. All the time she plays her role, foot on my lap, chair arms gripped, begging me to stop. The worst part is her arches. I pull her toes back and firmly tickle with the brush. That's when the laughter comes and she starts to crack. "Hahahaha no more, please....I can't take it. That must be 2 mins. Is it?". I haven't set a timer of course. I am waiting for her to realise that. This starts to dawn on her. I pick up the feather again but this time use the quill end to drag up and down her arch and then we are done.
She pulls her foot back, out of breath, and slumps in her chair. "That was a workout" she says. I congratulate her on not breaking. She shows me her hand where she has an indentation of her nail from squeezing it so tight. "Am I done then?" she asks, putting her sock and shoe back on. "Oh no!", I say. That was only one staff member. Plenty of time on your clock still.
So, now I keep pressing the next time with her. Initially she swore she would never do it again but, as time has passed we have got back on to the fake crying and that perfect "urgghhhh I'm in trouble aren't I?!". Yes you are J, yes you are.
She talks about much of a fun rush it was and I do wonder if we will ever get to revisit it.
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Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
