C.A.B.
3rd Level White Feather
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C.A.B.fessions ~ The Office Trap
(True Story. M/f, Warning: adult themes.)
A quick note: Some of you know me as a contributor to the art section or have viewed my gallery, but as of late, I have been in a writing mood. I thought it might be fun to submit some of my true life experiences as a tickle torture sadist. These are personal memories, so excuse me if I keep them short less detailed than most of my other works. Short and sweet, just as I remember them. Thanks for reading.
* * * * * * * * *
THE OFFICE TRAP
This is a short experience, but nevertheless intensely sweet like a chocolate truffle.
Years ago, I was working in a small private office with an even smaller staff. I had a snarky love-hate relationship with one of the writers there, we'll call her Erin. She was tallish and thin, reddish-blond hair and all-Irish haughty attitude. Mostly we openly fought like cats and dogs and really didn't like each other - or - there was unconfessed, sexual tension... or both. Be that as it may, we mostly avoided each other unless we absolutely needed to deal with each other. And even then, it would be curt and snippy.
One day, Erin comes into my office and has something she wants me to put ahead of other things. I, of course obliged her by saying "No," and went back to my computer screen. So she stood behind me, half-fuming and takes it upon herself to start poking my ribs until I was annoyed enough to either comply or toss her screaming from the 8th story window. But as I had plans that weekend that did not include a stay in federal prison... I gave the annoying woman what she wanted. She smiled an "I win" at me as she strut out of my office on her perky heels.
Now, in full disclosure, I have a strong foot fetish in addition to my tickle torture sadism, but I would like to preface that I am very picky, and do not find just any woman's feet attractive. I am a gourmand of shapely feet and not just any pair will do. But as fate would have it, Erin had beautiful, elegant feet, and she delighted in the bane of all foot fetishists who are trying to get work done - she was a shoe dangler.
Now this would not be so bad if she were not so fucking attractive physically, but, in her defense, she was a lean knockout with creamy alabaster skin, freckles, and a sexy moxie. The more she pissed me off, the more I dreamed of exacting revenge. The good kind; sadistic and slow.
And then one day, the opportunity came so I jumped on it.
One afternoon I found myself alone with Erin in the office. One employee gone on vacation; some sick (extended weekend sick) and some left early to get a start on said weekend. It was crunch time and I knew Erin would be slamming the phone interviews to get last minute information before deadlines. And sure enough, there she was as I passed her office, stuck on a marathon phone interview that she could not escape from (you see it coming, don't you?)
I would have ignored her and thought nothing of it, be she was her own demise. That shoe dangling from one toe. She liked to sit with one leg crossed under her and dangle or drop the shoe from an upturned sole. And they were deliciously soft and tempting... creamy smooth with just the right amount of baby pink. Not a callous or blemish in sight. I moved on the opportunity.
Like I said, she can not break protocol and excuse herself from these interviews, so she rolled her eyes when I came in smiling. She tried to ignore me and focus, but I made sure to overly pantomime that I was taking her favorite pen and post-it pad to write something. She turns away. I round the desk to her side and pull up a chair. I sit nice and close and she huffs but is deep in conversation. Then I stick it to her: I plaster the post-it note dead on the paper in front of her. It simply read, "Ticklish?"
She looks at me, half-shocked, with wide eyes, shaking her head "No," and if she could have spoken to me, it might have meant, "No. I am not." but it actually meant, "No God Please DON'T you dare!"
Too late. With her own foot trapped under her lap, all I need to do was lean on her desk with one arm propping up my gloating smile, and reach under and tickle her naked sole with the other. She had no choice but to silently laugh and endure it. I timed the torture so she could talk to the interview when she needed, but on their long winded responses, I tickled away. She could only shake in silence turning red and laughing noiselessly. Her toes were particularly effective; long and lean, and truly her Achilles heel.
At long last, 5 minutes into the ordeal, she begs the interviewee to be put on hold. When she does, she spins and pulls her foot away and under the desk, cussing at me and wiping her hair away from her teary eyes. She tries to bark me away, but I simply return her own patented "I win" smile... then she realizes I'm not going anywhere and that I am waiting her out. She must get back on the phone... or risk being fired if she looses the interview.
She huffs and clicks back on.
While she apologizes for her delay, I can tell the interview is anxious and annoyed. Now she must be really diligent. This opens me up for more devils work.
I spin her slowly towards me and reach down to grab the ankle of her shoeless foot and prop it up in my lap. I pull her by it and now she has lost leverage and its everything she can do not to fall out of the chair, let alone keep speaking like nothing is happening. Now I begin to over emphasize that I'm going to tickle her toes. She yanks and pulls and I have great fun watching her squirm and die in silent laughter. Red face pairing beautifully with her reddish-blond hair.
I did cut her loose before the interview was over, and I wondered if she noticed my thickening arousal in my slacks as I got up. When I left that evening, she was still on that marathon call. She gave me the finger as I left. And I simply mouthed,
"I win."
~ C.A.B.
(True Story. M/f, Warning: adult themes.)
A quick note: Some of you know me as a contributor to the art section or have viewed my gallery, but as of late, I have been in a writing mood. I thought it might be fun to submit some of my true life experiences as a tickle torture sadist. These are personal memories, so excuse me if I keep them short less detailed than most of my other works. Short and sweet, just as I remember them. Thanks for reading.
* * * * * * * * *
THE OFFICE TRAP
This is a short experience, but nevertheless intensely sweet like a chocolate truffle.
Years ago, I was working in a small private office with an even smaller staff. I had a snarky love-hate relationship with one of the writers there, we'll call her Erin. She was tallish and thin, reddish-blond hair and all-Irish haughty attitude. Mostly we openly fought like cats and dogs and really didn't like each other - or - there was unconfessed, sexual tension... or both. Be that as it may, we mostly avoided each other unless we absolutely needed to deal with each other. And even then, it would be curt and snippy.
One day, Erin comes into my office and has something she wants me to put ahead of other things. I, of course obliged her by saying "No," and went back to my computer screen. So she stood behind me, half-fuming and takes it upon herself to start poking my ribs until I was annoyed enough to either comply or toss her screaming from the 8th story window. But as I had plans that weekend that did not include a stay in federal prison... I gave the annoying woman what she wanted. She smiled an "I win" at me as she strut out of my office on her perky heels.
Now, in full disclosure, I have a strong foot fetish in addition to my tickle torture sadism, but I would like to preface that I am very picky, and do not find just any woman's feet attractive. I am a gourmand of shapely feet and not just any pair will do. But as fate would have it, Erin had beautiful, elegant feet, and she delighted in the bane of all foot fetishists who are trying to get work done - she was a shoe dangler.
Now this would not be so bad if she were not so fucking attractive physically, but, in her defense, she was a lean knockout with creamy alabaster skin, freckles, and a sexy moxie. The more she pissed me off, the more I dreamed of exacting revenge. The good kind; sadistic and slow.
And then one day, the opportunity came so I jumped on it.
One afternoon I found myself alone with Erin in the office. One employee gone on vacation; some sick (extended weekend sick) and some left early to get a start on said weekend. It was crunch time and I knew Erin would be slamming the phone interviews to get last minute information before deadlines. And sure enough, there she was as I passed her office, stuck on a marathon phone interview that she could not escape from (you see it coming, don't you?)
I would have ignored her and thought nothing of it, be she was her own demise. That shoe dangling from one toe. She liked to sit with one leg crossed under her and dangle or drop the shoe from an upturned sole. And they were deliciously soft and tempting... creamy smooth with just the right amount of baby pink. Not a callous or blemish in sight. I moved on the opportunity.
Like I said, she can not break protocol and excuse herself from these interviews, so she rolled her eyes when I came in smiling. She tried to ignore me and focus, but I made sure to overly pantomime that I was taking her favorite pen and post-it pad to write something. She turns away. I round the desk to her side and pull up a chair. I sit nice and close and she huffs but is deep in conversation. Then I stick it to her: I plaster the post-it note dead on the paper in front of her. It simply read, "Ticklish?"
She looks at me, half-shocked, with wide eyes, shaking her head "No," and if she could have spoken to me, it might have meant, "No. I am not." but it actually meant, "No God Please DON'T you dare!"
Too late. With her own foot trapped under her lap, all I need to do was lean on her desk with one arm propping up my gloating smile, and reach under and tickle her naked sole with the other. She had no choice but to silently laugh and endure it. I timed the torture so she could talk to the interview when she needed, but on their long winded responses, I tickled away. She could only shake in silence turning red and laughing noiselessly. Her toes were particularly effective; long and lean, and truly her Achilles heel.
At long last, 5 minutes into the ordeal, she begs the interviewee to be put on hold. When she does, she spins and pulls her foot away and under the desk, cussing at me and wiping her hair away from her teary eyes. She tries to bark me away, but I simply return her own patented "I win" smile... then she realizes I'm not going anywhere and that I am waiting her out. She must get back on the phone... or risk being fired if she looses the interview.
She huffs and clicks back on.
While she apologizes for her delay, I can tell the interview is anxious and annoyed. Now she must be really diligent. This opens me up for more devils work.
I spin her slowly towards me and reach down to grab the ankle of her shoeless foot and prop it up in my lap. I pull her by it and now she has lost leverage and its everything she can do not to fall out of the chair, let alone keep speaking like nothing is happening. Now I begin to over emphasize that I'm going to tickle her toes. She yanks and pulls and I have great fun watching her squirm and die in silent laughter. Red face pairing beautifully with her reddish-blond hair.
I did cut her loose before the interview was over, and I wondered if she noticed my thickening arousal in my slacks as I got up. When I left that evening, she was still on that marathon call. She gave me the finger as I left. And I simply mouthed,
"I win."
~ C.A.B.
Last edited:
Thanks for sharing the experience. 
