Naked, bound and blindfolded, I wait for her. From my kneeling position, my skin is needled with sharp pinpricks of heat from the numerous candles encircling me. My mind drifts and I wonder what my Goddess has planned for the copious drippings of hot wax around me.
The air of the room shifts as she approaches. I can't decide if the sound of her heels clicking their way through the room is more exciting or frightening. When she stops before me, instinctively I bow my head as low as possible, stretching my taught arms bound behind me. She places her boot on the back of my head and firmly brings my face all the way down to the floor. Through the strain I softly thank her for correcting my posture. She sits down in the chair before me and I am yanked up by my leash. The rush of air lets me know what's coming, and my face is 'kissed' hard by her open palm. A haughty Queen at her throne, she playfully kicks at my "manhood", amused by the trinket and the unyielding ardor she inspires in it.
Despite the cruel ministrations- or because of them, my body betrays me, her toy grows and points to it's rightful owner, silently pleading for more attention. It is her property, and she delights in bringing it endless frustration with no real hope of release.
She has kept me in this perpetually excited state for weeks, my plums tight, achy, swollen and DENIED. She takes Her time harshly binding them, a vice-like extension of her own fatal grip, and I am left enduring, longing, lusting. A steady stream of precummy tears weeps shamelessly to the floor below, and I know my slut tongue will have some clean-up to do later.
The music of leather straps flitting casually through the air informs me that she is armed with the flogger I had presented to her the first time we met. Invisible scars glow white hot as my body burns with the memory of the last time my Perfect Princess saw fit to discipline me.
I feel her foot, bound in sleek, warm leather trace its way up my body and rubbing across my cheek, before resting firmly against my shuddering lips. I am so close, separated only by the thinnest patina of supple leather, and I am oh so hungry for the steamy, sweaty treat underneath. Here is where I belong, my place in this world. With my highest and most valued element: my head, down there at her lowest part- the very bottoms of her black, commanding boots. She guides me carefully now, as I lap and suck and lick and clean, her hand clutching the leash ensures that I won't miss a single spot despite the mindless passion I have lost myself to. I suck the holy alter of Her bootheel to a hard-earned shine, kiss the ankle where she directs me, and nibble the dirt off the bottoms. And I am GRATEFUL. Not only am I honoring her by polishing her bootsoles to a glossy finish, I am washing away my independence with each and every lick.
All too quickly my prize is ripped away, my tongue left flicking the open air. Gasping, I am empty inside...until I hear the unmistakable and incomparable sound of dangerous fingers unzipping those heart-stopping boots. With a soft tug her glorious foot is released from its hot, steamy prison, and the heat rises up to greet me. Flexing her foot audibly stretches the sweet stockings rising up her silken legs, and with a flood of endorphins I am in her thrall. Flaunting her power, she both ignores and teases me, running hands up and down her luxurious hose with a soft sigh, my rapt attention unrequited as she effortlessly brings me to a place of desperate desire.
She extends a leg and holds her foot just there, just at the very tip of my nose. My self-control surprises us both. I inhale deeply, using the scent to envision the curves of her foot, tracing the contours of its perfection so that I can almost see it. I listen to the distinct crackle of the nylon spreading as she fans out her toes, and I just want to bury my nose in that gap and sniff my will away. But she holds back, smugly satisfied by her control over me and the blissful devotion inspired by the perfume of her sweaty stockinged feet. Though forbidden to speak, the scent eats away at my brain like a corrosive, and I whimper an involuntary "thank you" as my eyes roll back under the blindfold. The rest of the world fades away and with a jerk of my leash I enter Heaven. I feel her tension melting away (or is it my own?) as my tongue gives her the most worshipful massage my servile heart can muster. Her sighs of pleasure serve only to send me deeper into submission, tasting her sweetness -while she takes my soul. Gently I kiss her tender arch, rub my nose against it and suck on her heel. If I thought her foot aroma was delicious before, being this close, feeling the dampness of her perspiration, my nose pressed tight against it, I am completely intoxicated. The razor-thin mesh of her stockings razes my tongue as I lick at the holy undersides of her sexy feminine feet. My heart bursts with gratitude as she allows me to take her beautiful toes into my hungry mouth, bathing & worshiping them one by one. I honor them with sucks and kisses as she indulges my addiction. I deep-throat her foot, sucking for all I'm worth as she points her toes gracefully and fucks my face. My cool mouth washes away the heat and sweat, eliciting more sighs from my Goddess. Her sounds of contentment are a reminder that this is not for my pleasure, this is for her. It's always for her. I try to focus on this but my mind steadily recedes, dragged away by the thrall of this perfect drug. I lose myself to it all, licking & sucking, inhaling & worshiping- her arches her toes, her heels her pads. Lavishing the soft tops of her feet and delicate ankles with earnest kisses, silently expressing my ardor the only way a pet like me can. She sees me as I truly am, a puppy on a leash, and I wonder if I'll ever earn the privilege of kissing any higher. Savoring the exquisite smells and exotic taste, these are the feet of Royalty, the most precious things in my world, and I am humbled just to be beneath them, where I belong.
I am yanked from my revere by the sting of her flogger dancing across my backside. How long had she been hitting me? It doesn't matter. I embrace the pain she favors me with and continue to smother my idol with kisses. When her foot is ripped away my heart goes with it. When it is replaced by the handle of her flogger, I kiss that with equal passion, in thanks for the cruel welts it has raised. I love what she can do to me. Her delicious cruelty has made my life better through suffering for her. Her abuse teaches me about myself, and she exploits my weaknesses with such ease. She sinks her foot into my crotch, stepping down and pressing it firmly to the floor. As she crushes and emasculates my eggs, my pride flattens with it, diligently ground into the finest of powder, and I can only crave more. The silk of her toes become weapons of destruction, tormenting the denied without a hint of mercy. And why not? It's her property, she can treat it however she pleases. It's right. It's natural.
Just before abandoning me, she speaks for the first time: "Don't worry, you'll learn to love it," she says arrogantly.
I believe her.
*Sorry if that was a bit too "wall of text" to work through. I was just trying to write something evocative and expressive of my feelings towards submitting to a Goddess, and got a little carried away.
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