The great mind reading Boot!

I did not have a request for this story. What I had was someone who said she was going to request something, but hadn't done so yet. I looked at her profile, I examined what she liked, and I found inspiration anyway. If she likes this, that means I'm a mind reader.

Or a good writer.

Honestly, I'll take either one.

The main theme for today is the idea of "thinking about kink when you should be working." So technically, you should read this while you're at work. (but don't; I wouldn't want you to get fired)

Bring your painslut to work day

Heather's fingers tapped away at the keys in a constant clicking, but she wasn't paying attention to the report she was writing. The coffee on her desk was getting cold, but she had forgotten about it anyway. She pressed her foot down and turned the toe, focusing her mind where it wasn't supposed to be.

But when he moaned, she couldn't help but smile. She pressed harder, hearing him whimper as she ground the toe of her boot into his crotch. She looked down, saw his shoulders bulge as he pulled against the handcuffs. His head was leaned back, the soft blindfold barely visible beneath the duct tape she'd wrapped around his head. She smiled, took a deep breath.

Or rather, she tried to take a deep breath. The latex under her blouse was too tight to allow much more than a painful attempt at deep breathing. Heather smiled, deciding that was, at least in part, why she was feeling so light headed.

She lifted her foot from his crotch and smiled at the sound of his relief. Then she gave him a swift kick to his tied up balls. He coughed into his gag and made sounds of pain, curling up into a ball under her desk.

She looked back to her computer screen with a smirk on her face. She tapped her heel on the floor, knowing he could hear it, knowing he would be waiting for another kick, another moment of torture. She knew he was waiting for her to stand on him, wondering if she would lean forward, pressing the toes down, trapping his skin between the treads, then twisting to give him that extra pinch. Would she do that, or would she do lean back, her heels pressing into his skin, maybe puncturing it. Before he'd gotten down there, she'd seen him look at them.

It wasn't just fear in his eyes when he saw her heels. He saw that they were metal, had heard them as they walked across the floor. He knew that they were long enough to do serious damage if they broke the skin. Six inches long; if they came to a sharp point, she could kill with them. She knew he'd thought that, knew he'd hoped the three inch platform under her toes would be the worst he'd have to worry about.

But it wasn't all fear. She remembered that very clearly. He wasn't just scared, and he wasn't just excited about the prospect of what would happen over the course of the day. He was also turned on by the shoes themselves. Heather had watched his eyes as they looked at the open toe a the front, at the leather strap around the ankle. She remembered him following the boot up to her knee, looking at the straps and the open skin behind her leg, the way the boots managed both to cover her in leather and to expose her calves at the same time.

He'd wanted to look higher, to follow the stockings up under her skirt and see if she was wearing panties. He'd even asked her. But she had work to do, so she didn't answer him. She just put the handcuffs on behind his back, locked them and then set the locks so they couldn't tighten any more and accidentally hurt him, put on the blindfold, duct taped it around his face.

Then she answered. She answered by taking off the panties that she had, in fact, been wearing, and pushing them into his mouth. Not too hard, not too deep; she didn't want him to choke. But they made a good start to the gag. Another round of duct tape over his mouth and around his head a few times covered the rest of her desire to keep him at least a little bit quiet while she tortured him.

She had work to do, after all.

Heather clicked away from the report and checked her e-mail. Normally, she'd just skip the spam file. 

But with him there, bound beneath her desk, Heather took a shot. She was not disappointed.

“There's something here for penis enlargement,” she said, looking down at him. “Maybe I should forward it to you?” She nudged his cock with her foot, feeling it against her toe. “Actually, there's a lot of them. I should probably send them to you. Maybe let them put you on your mailing list. I think it would be best if they went to your primary inbox, don't you?” she rubbed her foot against his cock, knowing he'd get erect any second. She tried to remember the last time she'd let him cum. It pleased her that she couldn't.

“I think you should. And you should read them all. And maybe send away for things. Couldn't hurt.” She rubbed her foot up and down his cock as it grew to its full length. She could feel the blood filling his erection, feel it pulsing, feel it throbbing.

Heather laughed. “I mean, it's not like it could get any smaller, right?” She pulled her foot away and gave him another kick, curling him back into a ball.

She rubbed her hands down her blouse, feeling the latex corset underneath, moaning softly under her breath. Then she stood up and gave him another kick, much harder, but higher up, not wanting to do any real damage to him. Just enough to get him coughing into his gag, to make the expression of pain visible even under all that duct tape.

She walked across the office slowly, knowing he was listening to the clack of her heels on the floor. She took her coffee mug with her, taking a few sips to see if it was still warm enough to drink.

Heather left the door to her office open, so anyone who came in could, in theory, find the naked, handcuffed, gagged, and blindfolded man beneath her desk. She knew no one would actually find him, but she also knew he would wonder any time someone stuck their head in looking for her. Was he really as hidden as she had said? Was he quiet enough that they wouldn't go looking to see what the noise was?

She dumped out her mug and washed it with a smile on her face. She made simple chit chat with a coworker, talking about the upcoming weekend, then refilling her mug, taking her time with the cream and the sugar, and then walking slowly back to her office. She left the door opened and walked slowly around the room, settling down in her chair with a sigh. She wriggled a little, feeling the latex moving on her skin, enjoying how it didn't breathe, and how the tight corset barely let her breathe.

She nudged him gently with one foot. “The door is still open,” she said. “In case you didn't notice. So don't make any noise, or someone might come in to see what's going on. Understand?”

He nodded.

She kicked him in the balls as hard as she could, then stifled her laugh behind her hand as he tried so desperately not to make any noise.

“I really should get back to work,” she said, unable to keep her eyes off the flush of his skin, the sheen of sweat, and the tension of pain railing through his body. She looked at the computer screen and pulled up her report again. Her eyes kept drifting down, seeing the strain of his shoulders as he pulled against the cuffs.

She needed to focus on what she was doing, finishing her report before the week was over. She needed to go ahead and get the report complete before it was time to go home. Paying attention to him, to his pain, was a waste of time. A bad idea.

But she kicked him again, as soon as he relaxed. He wasn't crying, but from the shake of his body, he wanted to. She ran her heel along his skin, making him shiver in terror. He couldn't see; for all he knew, it was a knife.

When she pulled her foot away, and he stopped shivering, she kicked him again.

The report should have taken her twenty minutes. But by the end of the day, she finally put the finishing touches on it. He was drenched in sweat, bruises were already forming on his stomach, chest, and cheek. His crotch was red and started to turn kind of black and blue. It was going to hurt when she put the cage back on.

So she took extra care to do it slowly, moving and tucking, mangling and squeezing, making the attachment of the cage as painful as possible. She smiled when he whimpered.

Finally, she cut his gag and his blindfold free, then pushed him over on his stomach, making sure to crush his cock and balls underneath him. She pressed her knee onto his ass, crushing things a bit more, as she unlocked the cuffs.

She rolled him over onto his back and threw his clothing down on top of him. “Get dressed,” she said. “I need to bring this to my boss. I expect you to be ready to go when I get back.”

He stretched his jaw, holding her now soaked panties in his hand. “Yes mistress.”