She watched as he slipped the glossy black leather carefully over her foot, his progress painfully slow as her shimmering nails disappeared beneath the final strap. She sensed the tremor in his hands, wondered at his control. She allowed a quick glance at the clock, saw there was plenty of time, and smiled to herself. He would fail, she decided.
She flexed her foot slightly and he froze. She relaxed, touched his bowed head. “Time is short, my slave..”
He continued. Was his head hanging lower still? She couldn’t be sure, but thought so. The thought brought another smile to her full lips. Her nails emerged from beneath the strap. He paused again as they came in to view. His muscles tensed and she traced their lines with her eyes. Along his forearm, over his bicep where the vein stood out and pulsed with his heart, over his shoulders, up his neck to his face. He showed no emotion, only continued sliding the shoe on to her dangling foot.
She touched him on the shoulder and he froze again. “Do you not see, my slave?” She spoke gently, but the force in her voice was unmistakable. He was motionless and did not respond. Good boy, she thought. She let her the tip of her index finger trail along his shoulder, over his neck, pausing to feel his heart racing there, then along under his chin. She lifted his head toward her slowly. He faced her, diverting his eyes automatically. “You may speak, dear. I asked you a question.”
“Yes, my Mistress. I see.”
“Yet you continued.”
He did not speak, only lowered his head slightly.
“Would you have Mistress go out imperfect?” She stood suddenly, towered over him. Raising her voice now, she continued. “Perhaps you would like your Mistress embarrassed in public this evening? Is that your desire, slave? To wait here, knowing Mistress is out in this state?! THIS WOULD GIVE YOU PLEASURE, SLAVE?!!”
She watched from above as he trembled, head lower still. He would not cry, she knew. She taught him very early, very harshly, how she felt about tears from a man. Still, despite his absence of tears, she knew how her words stung him. She knew his feelings for her perhaps better than he knew them himself. She stood over him, letting the silence that followed her bitter words speak to him.
Sternly now…”Answer my question, slave.”
He whispered harshly through pressed lips, still looking at the floor. “No my Mistress. Never. Never.”
She lowered herself to her seat again, crossed her legs so that her foot, the shoe dangling from her toes, was before his face. She watched him closely, could see the urge rise in him. She wondered again at his self-control. Speaking softly again…”What pleases you then, slave?” She knew the answer before he even spoke it, but still the words made her own heart race.
“Your pleasure, my Mistress. Only your pleasure pleases me.”
She gripped the edge of the chair with her hand in hopes of controlling her own voice. He would not hear his effect on her. “Again, my slave. Gather your things and be quick. Time is short.”
He rose before her, nodded to her and backed away slowly, never turning his back on her. He gathered the polish remover, cotton, and polish and returned to his knees before her.
She watched as he removed the shoe, then took her foot in his hands and began to remove the polish he’d applied earlier that evening. She focused on the third toe, the small blemish barely visible on an otherwise glassy surface. Just a smudge really, and not something anyone would ever notice otherwise. He applied the remover then, and it was gone. She checked the clock and knew that his next attempt would find success. She sighed to herself, sorry in a way. Still, she should enjoy the moment, his soft and gentle touch as he applied a fresh coat of lacquer. Yes, she would let him finish this time and look forward to the rest of the evening she had planned.
She read a magazine as he worked, but found it hard to focus on the articles. The familiar stirring in her mid-section kept her thoughts drifting to the evening ahead. She remembered this same feeling from her childhood, waiting in line to ride the boardwalk roller coasters or lying in bed the night before a big trip. Later in her life, this feeling had disappeared entirely. She was frightened when she first felt it again, just over a year ago. The first time he visited her. She’d considered fleeing from the feeling, forbidding him to come anymore. Instead, she confronted her fear. Later still, she embraced it. She’d made him hers, and now she reveled in this feeling almost daily.
She realized he’d finished and was waiting for her. Lost in her thoughts, she did not know how long he’d been waiting. She paused a moment longer, then lowered the magazine and leaned to consider his work. She checked carefully, knowing they would be perfect and finding them so. “Yes, darling. Proceed.”
His next action surprised her, touched her. He raised the shoe, but instead of putting it on her, he wet a swab with remover and cleaned inside the strap that she’d touched her toe to earlier. The slightest touch of red polish removed from it, he dried it with another swab and then slipped it over her foot. She watched his speed. Too quickly would show that he knew he would succeed and be cause for action. But no, of course. Instead, he proceeded even more cautiously than the last time. Slowly, he laced the strap around her ankle. She noticed the tremor in his fingertips. A small reward for him was in order for his attention, she knew. Perhaps a small reward for herself as well.
