Corporate Correction Pt 02

This could have been the end of my story, but for the fact that Paul was enslaved and unable to resist playing with fire. I had one more day left at company X when Paul called me to his office. He appeared to be capable of complete sentences again and looked at me sternly, asking me to close the door. I did so and took a seat to his left. I wonder if he noticed that we were in approximately the same positions that we had taken the morning before.

He told me that my behavior the day before was completely inappropriate and threatened to request another secretary from the temporary agency. The idiot didn't know that today was my last day, which was fine with me. I pretended to be upset, playing along. "Please don't do that," I whined, the defenseless women cowering in front of her boss. I also took this opportunity to cross my pretty legs and instantly noticed all the latent hunger in my victim's eyes.

I was dressed a bit differently today, in a fairly tight skirt and sheer black hose with reinforced toes. The pumps I was wearing today were much higher so I was sure my feet would be mind-numbing to my poor fetishist.

"I'm not proud of this," he said tentatively, but you pushed me too far yesterday. I'll have to ask you to finish what you started."

He was nervous about this abuse of his authority but too obsessed with what he needed. I tearfully agreed and he stood up to lower his trousers. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud; Paul was about to suffer the indignities of the day before on a much grander scale. I was sure I'd thoroughly enjoy taunting my tormented suitor again while I watched his facade of control crumble in the face of relentless sexual pressure.

He began to pull his jockeys down but I told him that I wanted to feel him through his underwear. I knew from experience that close containment would increase the discomfort of a prolonged erection. Also, men look ridiculous with a persistent hard-on attempting to poke through their clothes. Paul sat down and I slowly removed my shoes, crossing my legs twice to do it and generally taking my sweet time. I placed the heels on Paul's desk directly in front of him. Paul's eyes were locked on the sexy hose as I regally lifted my feet to his lap. I stopped just short of contact, my feet poised and pointing at his erection, and asked Paul if he liked my stockings. "They're incredible,¨ he breathed. I giggled, responding "Thanks, Paul, you'll never forget them." I went to work on his erection before he had a chance to digest that comment, and Paul moaned softly in anticipation of the orgasm he thought I was going to deliver. For the next fifteen minutes, I repeated the torments of yesterday morning. Paul was evidently expecting a different kind of contact today and couldn't stand the slow, deliberate tracing of his penis that had so thoroughly undone him the day before. Yesterday's humiliation was haunting him and he was soon crazy with lust.

I slid one foot under his balls, wiggling my toes, while the other continued a gentle exploration of Paul's now turgid member. Confused, Paul looked up to find me grinning smugly and giggling a bit. Gritting his teeth, he pushed my feet aside and stood up, removing his underwear. His equipment was agitated beyond discomfort and as he sat down again his cock rolled and throbbed unprotected in front of me. His control over the situation was deteriorating as his hunger reasserted itself and he had obviously missed some important warning signs that I was planning on cockteasing him again.

"O.K.," he gasped, "I'm ready."

I had placed my feet, crossed at the ankles, on the arm of his chair when he stood up and now I merely sat and smiled at him.

"C'mon," he whined.

I laughed audibly this time, rubbing my feet together slowly in front of his face. "Say please, Paul." I taunted. He just glared at me, which indicated I had a bit more work to do, so I finally acquiesced and applied my toes to his genitals ever so lightly. As I traced the outline of Paul's tortured organ with my pointed toes, giving special attention to the angry head and the occasional firm stroke to make him crazy, I wondered how he was going to deal with his second case of unconsummated lust in as many days. I was enjoying myself so much that I lost track of time. My satin feet were lazily traversing the head of Paul's persecuted penis when he told me he was about to terminate my contract. I pretended not to hear and barely caressed the underside of my obsessed admirer's organ with the tips of my toes. "I mean it, Belinda," he whined, "cut it out and get me off."

Let me explain something to you lover," I cooed, "today's my last day. I don't care if you talk to my agency or not. But I doubt they'll be very sympathetic when you explain that you fired me for teasing your cock with my feet!"

His panic was delicious! He began to apologize profusely, instantly realizing that I could leave him in his desperate, pitiful state if I chose. My toes continued to work their evil magic. I was confining most of my tender attention to his testicles now because Paul's penis had taken on that purple, hair-trigger look and I didn't want him spurting all over my feet and ruining my hard work. I slowly lifted his scrotum with the top of my toes and asked why his balls felt so heavy and full. I knew from experience that I could caress them without setting Paul off so I kneaded them gently with my toes. "They really must ache, Paul. What are we going to do about this?"

I'd occasionally lift one foot to his face to let him calm down a bit before pouring more gasoline on the fire. "Kiss, kiss," I said playfully. As his lips parted to suck my toes, I'd laugh, withdraw my feet, and resume the gentle attack on Paul's intolerably agitated penis and balls. I gently kneaded the base of Paul's penis and was gratified to see small clear drops of pre-ejaculate forming at the top of Paul's cock, indicating that I had him trapped on the edge of the biggest orgasm of his life. "Beg me for it, Paul. Tell me how bad you want it and what a luscious little tease I am." I breathed. And beg Paul did. "You've made your point," he gasped, "please stop teasing, for God's sake!"

I placed my lovely feet just out of his reach at eye level on his desk. It wasn't about to pass up this opportunity to be a real bitch now that Paul had rolled over and shown me his jugular. My feet twisted and flexed in painful proximity to my exhausted suitor throughout the following conversation.

"Well, if you had only been a lecher at yesterday's meeting or if you had only tried to order me to get you off today, I would have no problem with allowing you the best orgasm of your life." I mean, I can see that you've suffered." I paused and smiled for emphasis, not attempting to hide my amusement at Paul's cruelly aroused penis "But both transgressions are just too much. I'm afraid I'll have to leave you to your own devices."

I let him try to convince me to empty his swollen testicles for a few minutes longer as I displayed my feet and my skirt slid slowly up my thighs past the tops of my stockings. There's nothing like the feverish attention of a desperate man, and Paul couldn't take his eyes off my undulating feet and long legs. His erection showed no sign of abating, although I was no longer taunting him with physical contact. Apparently, the mere sight of my stocking feet was now sufficient to inspire anxiety and frustration and his pleading grew more desperate as he saw that my resolve did not waver. He was absolutely sick with lust and I found his predicament hysterical, so I tried my best to prolong it. "Are you sure you want to come, Paul? Male orgasms are so messy."

I was intrigued by where this was leading. "Tell you what, Paul," I said, laughing, "I'll stay while you take care of your problem. You better hurry, though. I don't have all day." Paul hesitated, so I crossed my feet at the ankles and moved them to the arm of his chair, which had become sort of a medieval torture device over the past half hour. He leaned over to kiss them, but I stopped him cold. "Sorry, no more touching, baby," I proclaimed, "but feel free to take a good sniff... it may help." Of course, a good sniff wouldn't help at all and I knew from experience that a nose full of my sexy feet would drive Paul right up the wall. But he was foolish enough to do it anyway, and rewarded me with a groan of abject frustration."One more time, sweetheart," I taunted, and I think it was this second dose of my scent that really pushed him all the way over the edge.

He gave in, finally, unable to protect his last shred of dignity. As he began to stroke himself I lectured him in my most self righteous tone on the proper way to treat women and asked him if he thought jerking off in his office was the best use of company resources. I sensed the beginnings of Paul's orgasm and said, "I'll take over here, Paul." I applied my feet to his dick this last time and pushed his organ against his stomach so that the business end lay against his tie and pointed straight into his red face. As I rubbed the sensitive underside of Paul's shaft with the bottom of my foot, he realized where the fruits of his labor were going to end up.

"Bitch!" he gasped, starting to get out of his chair. "You're going to make me ruin..." The rest of Paul's words were muffled as my slightly damp toes finally found their way into his mouth. He groaned and slumped back in his chair, paralyzed with lust.

I laughed as he painted his tie and his expensive looking shirt with long white strands of semen. He long-delayed orgasm lasted a long time, and I made sure to maximize the mess by massaging his testicles with my black stocking toes until the last of his spasms subsided. As I slowly removed my toes from Paul's still hard organ I wondered out loud what he would tell his dry-cleaner.

I sashayed out of his office in my stocking feet, shaking my head, snickering, and swinging the high pumps in my hand. Just short of the door I dropped the high heels and bent way over to slip my maddening feet into my shoes. I like to think, in fact I know, that Paul will be abusing himself over me quite frequently for the next few months. One of the great things about a good tease, and this had been a great one, is that it's residual effects last for days. The erections that Paul will suffer when he thinks of me will be constant, demanding reminders of his vulnerability. And I can enjoy the knowledge that there's another man out in the world dancing to my tune. I walked briskly to the door and opened it wide, not bothering to close it behind me. I was thinking of leaving work early today; middle management seemed a bit preoccupied.