Tickled Pink and Tortured Well

Okay, so I decided, in a drunken state, that it would be interesting if I painted my boss hot pink. I mean, he had passed out at my house, and I felt like it would be funny. Everyone from the party had gone to sleep, and there he was, completely, irresistibly vulnerable.

I work in an industry of celebrities, drugs and alcohol, so we weren't known for holding simple office Christmas parties after hours. While I personally wasn't known for using drugs, I certainly was not one to hold back on the alcohol. My eyes dashed towards a tin of paint that sat next to my half dressed boss, painting him over just felt like the thing to do. No joke.

Perhaps this wouldn't have even occurred if I had placed that tin of paint in the other room. My mother always told me to put things in their correct places, but have you ever tried to renovate an apartment on your own? At the end of a days work, you can barely take off your own shoes, let alone lug around big tins of paint!

Anyway, that's why I was walking through the office halls with a napkin covering my face. Although I admit it was difficult not to notice my bright red locks, I still didn't want him to see me. You see, when my boss woke up the next morning, he didn't seem to agree with the view that being painted pink was funny. Granted, it probably didn't help that people began to take photos of him after they woke up. Boy, I'd gotten myself into a tangle.

Of course, when I woke up I denied that it was me. But I could almost swear my boss noticed the paint on my hands before I had the sense to cover them with sleeves. Now I just had to make it to my office before he spotted me. That was as far as I had gotten with the avoidance plan, anyway. Noting it's pretty hard to completely avoid your boss in a small office as it is.

Yes! I reached my office and sneaked myself in. Breathing out felt sooo good at this point. I shook my hair out of its bun and felt the waves of red hair bounce about my shoulders. I guess shaking it out like that made me feel sexy or something. And, while it's not exactly protocol to feel sexy at work, I just preferred it that way.

I scanned my office quickly. Checking with my own eyes that everything was still in place. And it was. One desk by the back wall, One pot-plant in the corner, One chair against the wall, One chair behind the desk - well you get the picture.

"Shit!" I noticed the time and quickly locked my door. Rushing over to my desk I sat and started to prepare for the day. I just so happened to be half an hour behind all my work. Thank you, traffic! The last thing I wanted was to be called into my boss's office.

I reached down to unbuckle my heels. Two red beauties I'd purchased from an amazing op-shop. They fit perfectly, made my legs look long and most importantly, they cost next to nothing! I chucked the shoes aside and pulled out a mirror from my purse to powder my nose.

Moments later, and I admit this was a little slack, I was snoozing away. It was the dress I was wearing. Silky olive green, like a nightie, and oh-so-comfortable. I started having a dream, which was equally relaxing; where someone was caressing the soles of my feet. He was massaging them gently, at the same time humming a sweet tune as I started to slide across the room. I flew gently to the floor and my feet were placed onto a thrown.

That's when I woke up.

"Jennifer," My boss smiled down at me. He looked like he had come back from a holiday in those clothes. His White shirt and tight jeans were not business-like at all, really. I blinked a few times before it occurred to me that I was lying on the floor - my feet were tied together and propped onto my chair.

"Mr. Bolts?" I blinked again and tried to push myself up from the floor. My arms felt weak from my nap, and I was a little light-headed, but soon I pulled myself together. I realized then that my dress had half ridden up my thigh, and my boss was staring at me like a little perve! "What are you looking at?"

"A very naughty employee," he leaned back against my table and crossed his arms against his chest, "or should I say, a very naughty artist."

My eyes widened at this point. He knew it was me. Oopse. What the fuck was I meant to do now? Just sit here all pretty? I moved to stand up and then slide back down. The pervert had cuffed my feet to the chair!

"Look, there's been a mistake." I smiled at him and batted my lashes in an attempt to talk my way out of this, "I didn't paint you pink."

"Oh?" He pushed himself off of my desk and walked over to the cabinet in the corner of my office, "But you are well versed with the events that took place?"

"Well," I spoke as I tried to pull the cuffs off, "I mean, I was there in the morning."

"You'll need the key to get those off," he chimed in as he opened the cabinet and pulled something out. "Do you believe in statistics?"

I didn't speak at first. I just watched as my boss returned with three paint brushes in his hands. He came over and made himself comfortable on the other side of my chair, sitting in a crossed-leg position, and smirking at me.

"Statistics?" I gulped.

"Yes statistics," he repeated seriously. Mr. Bolts was a fairly serious man as far as I could tell, so this was something I was quite used to. Every time there was a meeting, and he used that same expression, I knew to just agree with him. His eyes, warm and brown, warned me that to disagree would be fatal.

"Of course I believe in statistics." I smiled, hoping then that my lip-gloss hadn't gone on a trip down my chin while I had slept. I reached up and touched my chin to check, and was glad to find that my make-up had stayed put.

I felt self conscious laying here in such an awkward position, in front of my boss no less! It doesn't often cross my mind, especially when Mr. Bolts is often very busy with his work, but I find him attractive. It was something about his welcoming lips, or his deep voice, that made me feel a flutter of light arousal from his presence.

"Interesting," his hand came up and clasped my foot gently. Luckily he had not touched my toes; I would have giggled uncontrollably if he had. "You see, Jennifer, I've conducted a survey."

"Does this survey state that tying employees to their chairs helps them work harder?" I joked. He looked at me again with those serious eyes and I shut up. I noticed an evil grin fall upon his lips, only for a mere second, but it was enough to cause a rush of nervous panic to creep up through my chest.

"According to the survey 72% of this company's employees either saw, or heard about, a lady named Jennifer painting the boss pink at a party." I opened my eyes wide out of shock. What the fuck?!?! He actually did a survey on that?

"Well, you know, Jennifer from downstairs could have easily done it."

"Jennifer from downstairs?" He frowned for a moment, "Do you mean Joanna?" Damn, if he hadn't have known her name, I could have gotten out of this with that one.

"Look," he gave me a sympathetic look, "I'm new to this company. I've never been a boss before, so I'm stumbling onto new grounds here, but if someone paints me pink, don't you think it's fair that I get an apology?"

"Great, then you'll let me go and pester whoever it was that actually painted you." I wished I could swallow those words away moments later. The word 'pester' was too harsh, I knew this. A smile curled soon after these words, upon the lips of my boss; I was in trouble.

He picked up a paint brush and moved it closer to my foot. Slowly he tickled the area between my toes, carefully pointing the soft bristles between them and back out again. I pulled at my legs, and felt the cuffs strain against my ankles. I reached out to push him away but I was not flexible enough. Ohhh, crap.

"What are you doing?" I started to laugh, feeling a tingly tension build in my lower stomach. I continued trying to reach and stop him from tickling away, but he was relentless. And his expression was of complete amusement. He did not care that I was being humiliated. He did not care that I was out of control. In fact, he grinned at me mischievously and then yawned mockingly at me.

"Jennifer, Jennifer..." He tilted his head to the side with fake sympathy, "did you know that you ex-boyfriend who works on the 3^rd floor likes to boast in great detail about his lays?" I fell back on the floor and became crazy with giggles. I clutched firmly to the sides of my dress, hoping to release some tension through my fists. A thin film of sweat began to form on my forehead at my helplessness.

"No... I... didn't," was all I could muster in response. While my eyes filled with tears and my face was scrunched up in giggles, I managed to glance at my boss who had begun to laugh a little himself. He found it absolutely hilarious how powerless I had become at the touch of a brush stroke.

"Told me everything I wanted to know about you, in return for the promise of a small raise in his income. It was an interesting conversation, I must admit." He continued on, and then reached out to touch my toes with his fingertips. He wriggled my toes as if I were a child, heightening all the sensations in my poor feet. He used his other hand to rub tenderly the souls, which were now equally as sensitive to the touch.

Then he stopped. Oh thank the heavens he stopped. I felt my head come back from the clouds. My mind returned from all the chaos of laughter and the crazy tingling feeling dancing around my skin.

"You know what's worse?" He began to speak again. I felt around me and could sense he was nearing me. He had left my little toes alone and was closing in on me. I had to escape somehow.

"Mr. Bolts, please..." I whispered with my eyes shut. I was exhausted and simply wanted to rest. But would he let me go?

"Call me Nicolas," He corrected me, "what's worse is how your push-over ex told me exactly how and where his pretty little ex was ticklish all over. What did he say? Oh right, he said, 'she became so weak and submissive, I almost left her then and there'."

My eyes opened with shock. He had said that? Barry was going to leave me because of how submissive I had become? I though he left me because our lives were going in different directions? I thought it was because he wanted what was best for me?

I realized at that moment that a new kind of pain entered my eyes. Not the pain of being tickled, but the pain of rejection. It hurt. Bad. Especially knowing that I had loved Barry. I had loved him completely, and I had no idea he thought that way of me.

"Jennifer?" My boss Nicolas reached out and caressed my cheek. I gazed up at him and found a tender expression had fallen across his face. Did he care that I was in pain? He swung a leg over me and kneeled over my lower stomach. He placed each of his hands on either of my ribs and said, "Actually it might please you to know that I had to fire Barry in the end. I couldn't have someone working for me who could be bribed so easily, you see." He winked.

I frowned for a moment, wondering what the purpose of all this was. Wasn't he trying to seek his revenge on me? I felt his fingers clamp around my ribs and wriggle a little. I bit my lip in an attempt not to smile. My own hands rushed down to stop him but he easily fought me off.

"Wait-wait-wait," I pleaded, "what do you want me to do? Admit I painted you pink? Apologize?" He looked down at me, his soft hair curling sweetly around his ears, and his eyes looking oh-so-yummy. I almost wanted to kiss him, but that was absurd.

"Well, that was the plan," he nodded.

"Okay, it was me. I'm sorry." I put up both my hands in defeat. Nicolas smiled with amusement and stopped the torturous tickling. I felt this rush of relief; I could breathe once again!

"I said that was my plan," Crap; he wriggled his fingers evilly about my ribs again, "now I'm just having fun because I can." He lent in closer to my ear and whispered, "Would you quit right now if I asked very, very politely to finger you?" I gulped. He moved away from my ear slowly, taking with him the heat of his breath and the sweet smell of his aftershave. Fooling around with the boss? Bad idea?

Nicolas reached behind himself and pulled gently at my underwear. He slid them up around my ankles and left them there. I noticed how slowly, how carefully he did this. He left my skin to feel in need of more contact; in desperate need.

His hand gently traced a line back from my ankle to my inner thigh where he drew little circles with his index finger. He moved to slip his finger unexpectedly across the slit of my pussy. I jolted when he touched my clit. I reached up and clawed his chest, a habit I had formed over the years with previous partners.

"Mmmm," I heard a groan escape his lips, "I'd be careful if I were you Jennifer, I might go back to tickling you." He slid his finger inside me and felt around for my G spot. I, quite unfortunately, began to breath much more heavily than I would have liked to. I was terribly turned on.

"And you wouldn't want me to stop this and start tickling you, would you?" I felt my pussy tighten at the suggestion. I blushed, knowing that I could not hide my desires so easily, when my pussy gripped his finger every time I felt turned on. He laughed at me.

"Nicolas, please don't tell anyone." I whispered, "don't tell anyone that..."

"That you fancy being tied down and tickled by your boss?" He started to thrust his finger in and out of my opening. I was so tight, the friction was intensely hot, and all I could feel was a sweet tingling about the lips of my wet pussy. "Shall I send out an email? Telling everyone to tickle you when you walk by?"

I ran hands through my hair and bit my lip. He was sooo good at touching me there. Sooo gooood. Nicolas quickly pulled a key out of his pocket with his other hand and turned to uncuff my ankles. He glanced back at me with a grin, which caught me off guard. What was he planning?

He lifted my feet off the chair and pulled me up onto my feet so fast I was lost to know what was happening. Then He pushed me up against the wall, holding me still, as I regained my sense of balance. Kissing my neck gently, tenderly, his lips were warm against my skin. I could do nothing but moan in response to the way he was handling me.

"Or maybe I should just take you home for myself?" He picked me up and swung me over his shoulder, "I could just take you home and keep you there. So I can tickle you whenever I feel like it?" He popped me down onto my desk and pulled my dress up over my stomach.

"I've always wanted someone to tickle into submission each night," he pushed my legs open and moved in close to my pussy. "Someone I could tickle torture, and humiliate with their own weaknesses." I could feel him open the lips of my vagina, exposing my clit to his will.

"I might even take a liking to tickling a certain very sensitive spot between your legs, Jennifer," He rubbed the tip of his finger against my clit, causing me to gasp in surprise. "Have you got a ticklish clit Jennifer?" He raised both his eyebrows at me flirtatiously.

"I uhm, maybe..." I stammered, unsure what the right thing to say would be. That's when I felt his tongue slide over my clit, so tender, so dangerous.

"Tell me how ticklish your clit is, Jennifer," he ordered. I pushed my hips up closer to his mouth so that he would lick me more, and faster; so he knew I liked it, "Tell me how much you desperately want to be tickled."

"But Nicolas," I gasped, "please..."

"Tell me or I'll stop," he slid his finger back inside me as he spoke. I knew this was embarrassing, and humiliating. I blushed terribly as I said it, but I couldn't help myself. I really couldn't.

"Mmm, I-I'm very ticklish?"

"Come on now," he me fingered faster, massaging deep down where it felt uncontrollably pleasing, "you can do better than that, keep talking..."

"I... mmm, I need you to tickle my clit Nicolas. I want you to do it so fucking badly, please, please don't stop!" I felt my entire body tremble as I said this. Feverish humiliation fell over me as he continued to circle my clit with his tongue. His finger moving in and out, around and again. It was H-O-T. I was melting in the palm of his hand. Oh god, but it felt good.

He stopped.

"I have a meeting," he stood up and straightened his jacket.

"WHAT!?!!" I sat up abruptly, "are you serious?" I looked at him with utter astonishment, "I was so close to... I mean, what?"

"Naww, don't be upset, Jennifer," He smiled at me and leaned over to whisper in my ear, "I might be mistaken, but you look almost pink with embarrassment."

"But..." I began to speak, but knew not what to say.

"But what?" He grinned.

"That's it? You're leaving me with that?!" I could feel my pussy itching desperately for more play. I felt hot and bothered and wanted to reach orgasm, now!

"Jennifer," he frowned at me, somehow with a gentle expression, "It might interest you to know that I almost asked you out at the party the other night. Except I could barely grab a moment with you, because you just chased after Barry the whole time, and avoided me." He crossed his arms across his chest and waited for my response.

"You were going to ask me out?" I felt shocked, actually, flattered.

"Yes I was," he ran his fingers through his hair and nodded, "but then I woke up humiliated because a certain person decided to paint me pink." I was speechless. He picked up his ankle cuffs and the key and placed it in his pocket.

"Mr Bolts... I didn't know..." My eyes followed him around the room as he moved things about, "Barry and I, we're over, and have been for a long time. I guess I just, I felt lonely last night, and Barry is the only guy I've really known like that and."

"Call me Nicolas," he stopped me from talking, "I fired Barry because I thought he was wrong about you." He walked towards the door, "but I don't know now, maybe you're not the kind of girl I thought you were."

He turned to leave. It felt like slow motion. He was almost out the door. Almost gone. But I ran towards him and pulled his collar. I pulled it back inside, and with it followed Nicolas. Shutting the door quickly, I turned the lock and looked up at him nervously.

"You fired Barry?" I looked up into his dark brown eyes; his brow furrowed above them with somberness.

"Yeah, unfortunately for him, I did."

"And you were going to ask me out?" I frowned in thought. He exhaled loudly then, and looked to the other side of the room.

"Yes I was. I was going to ask out the girl who ignored me all night and then painted me pink." He gave me a mean-ish look.

"So you came in here and seduced me only to leave me alone?" I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a mean look back, "that's stupid logic."

"Stupid logic?" he waved his hands in the air, "this is coming from the girl who THINKS it's funny to paint her boss at a party?"

"AND THIS is coming from the person who thinks it's appropriate for the boss to pass-out at a work party?" I recounted loudly.

"Well, that's well said, from the equally drunk employee who followed her ex around in hopes the jerk would take her back!" He shouted, "And who likes being tickled to orgasm - what the fuck is with that?!?!"

That was embarrassing. I started to breath heavily. I hated that I could be turned on by even the WORD 'tickle', even when it's yelled at me as an insult. And there he looked at me, so close to my face, breath hot on my skin, invasive hands reaching up to my neck, lips touching gently, fiercely to my own; a hot passionate kiss that should not have happened.

We pulled apart.

"You kissed me," I accused him, pointing my finger. He frowned for a moment and then glanced at my bare feet and back again.