This story was written as a parting gift for my sweet sub, Richard, at the end of a consensual, caring relationship. It's been a wild ride, and I wish only good things for him going forward. If Femdom is not for you, then please do not continue reading. Seriously. However, if you like the idea of a powerful woman controlling every aspect of a helpless sub's pleasure, then please read on.
The other stories in order in this series include Mistress' Pleasure Slave, Sold for her Pleasure, Serving as her Shower Slut, Subslut's Dilemma, Deepening his Control Training, The Art of Seduction, Wet, Wet, Wet, Acts of Service and Trial by Goddess.
Disclaimer:
Please read and take note. This work is about D/s and might include themes, actions, dialogue, and outcomes you find offensive, distasteful, or upsetting - I have tried to be as clear as possible in the story tags so that you can make an informed decision. Please understand this is a work of fiction, directly from the creative mind of a fellow human being who may not share your opinions or views. If by commenting, you are seeking cathartic relief or hitting back at life, I highly encourage you to seek professional help. However, in the event you are here to read my words, consider my ideas and share constructive criticism with me, then you are welcome. Troll comments will be deleted with extreme prejudice.
When Richard heard his Mistress' heels clicking down the hallway, he came to full mast. It was instinctive. The sound of metal heel tips against wooden floors, the beeswax scent of the wood polish, his position, naked and kneeling in subjugation. All of this worked on his psyche, putting himself into a deeply submissive and oh, so aroused state. As she drew closer, his gaze was drawn to the tips of her shoes which was all that he could see without moving his head, and he knew that she would direct him to look up when she chose. He could, of course, snatch a look unbidden, but why would he? He loved their dynamic, the willing transfer of power. Never before had he felt so at peace as when he was kneeling at his Mistress' feet.
And now, looking respectfully downwards, he could see her beautifully manicured toes peeking out from the sky-high green and gold open-toed sandals. The two-inch soles and 5-inch heels brought them that much closer to his bowed head and he had an almost-irresistible urge to bend down and kiss them, to worship them. Of course, he'd never take such a liberty without permission, but his devotion for this woman was boundless and every part for her beautiful, perfect body was calling out to him to worship her.
Stroking her hand through his hair, she caressed his jaw and raised his head, allowing his eyes to take in the length of her foot, the delicate straps around her shapely ankles and the skin-tight black velvet leggings that encased her long, toned legs. Above that she wore a soft green tailored silk blouse that draped across the swell of her breasts, giving just a hint of her lacy bra beneath.
Taking her offered hand Richard followed her along the corridor to the bathroom; a luxuriously appointed room he'd been in before when he'd acted as her shower slut. Apart from the huge, walk-in shower, there was a deep clawfoot bath next to a marble vanity unit full of exotic-looking bottles and lotions. Along the side wall, was a plush deep-buttoned turquoise chesterfield, which is where she came to sit, legs crossed demurely at the knee, tossing a silk throw cushion down and indicating he should kneel.
'Now, my pet, I have had a long day and need to unwind. I wonder if you would be a sweet boy and run me a lovely bath and massage my aching feet?' she looked down at him indulgently. It was a request, but one that she knew he was more than eager to fulfil. She had seen the way he had eyed her shapely feet and painted toes and knew that it would be no hardship for him.