This story is a 40,000 word novella which runs to 16 chapters. It starts as a slow burn but goes on to explore the journey of a novice as he discovers the joys of loving Femdom. I wrote it as a gift for my real life sub, David, and we hope you enjoy it.
If Femdom is not for you, then please do not continue reading. However, if you like the idea of a powerful woman controlling every aspect of a helpless sub's pleasure, then please read on.
David's eyes lit up. When she had first used that tone with him, he'd immediately felt a cold spot down behind his sternum. He didn't know how he had offended, but whatever it was he was desperate to atone. And now, he was going to be given the chance. Worshipping his strict Mistress' feet was a gift beyond compare, and he was going to relish every second of it. He was going to make her happy and then she would forgive him for whatever wrong he had done her.
Reaching up, he cradled her high heel in one hand and stroked the other reverently down the smooth, warm leather to the wickedly pointed tip, where he placed a soft kiss. No wonder his Mistress was foot weary; these boots must be strangling her poor precious little piggies. With a flood of tender feelings, he moved to her zip, slowly, teasingly, releasing it tooth by tooth. This was too good a job to rush, and he savoured the anticipation of the reveal.
Peeling back the soft leather like the skin of some exotic fruit, he released the succulent flesh of her stocking-clad calf and caressed it, massaging the tired muscle through the silky nylon, and thrilling at the soft sigh of pleasure he invoked. Easing the tight boot from her hot, cramped foot brought a rush of fragrant humidity from this most erotic of all microclimates and he breathed deeply of the moist, ripe scent. After repeating his worship on her other boot, she allowed him a few minutes to work his thumbs into her aching insteps, circle his fingertips around the delicate bones in her ankles, and manipulate each of her tired toes.
'You adore my beautiful, shapely feet, don't you, boy?' she purred as she crossed her legs at the knee, letting one flex just in front of his face.
Christ, yes, David did. Those long, heeled boots were so hot, in fact, anything that contained her sexy legs, ankles or feet got him going, but the packaging was only the prelude to the main event.
'Well then, I think it's only fair that you get to experience them more intimately,' she continued. 'Now, lie on your back and bend your knees. Spread your thighs and offer your balls to the kiss of my beautiful feet.'
Oh, fuck! Lying back on the floor in front of her, David felt supremely vulnerable. His junk was just inches from her feet, and he was offering himself up to whatever nefarious whim took her fancy. At least he had relieved her of her wicked-looking boots, but still he felt far from secure.
Idly, she swung her foot, batting at his quivering scrotum with each swing. As she warmed to her task, the taps became firmer and soon his sac was bouncing under the force. Not enough to truly hurt, but hard enough that he grunted out a breath with each impact. He fisted his hands in anticipation of the moment that she would stop holding back and start really testing his testicular fortitude. However, his Mistress was foot weary, so she had decided to postpone that particular pleasure for another day.
Stretching out one long leg, Kate traced a tantalising pathway over his quivering abdominals, past his lightly furred pecs and up the column of his throat. A throat which had gone dry with lust, causing him to swallow nervously. As her toes came to rest lightly on his lower lip, she paused in her journey, taking in his blown pupils and the fluttering pulse in his neck. Oh, yes, he was born for this.
Moving ever onwards, Kate pressed more firmly across his slightly parted lips until her hot, moist sole enclosed his entire nose and mouth, forcing him to breathe in her piquant essence with every inhale. Kate heard a muffled moan which could equally be pleasure or panic, but either way, one glance at his throbbing erection proved how much he was enjoying his subjugation. Well, she thought, it's only fair to reward such delightful submission, and she slid her other foot up over his swollen balls, pressing gently with her toes on the tenderised sac, eliciting another moan of (fear? Lust? Pain?) before grazing the humid nylon along his throbbing length. As she caressed the turgid meat, her toes parted, gripping him tenderly on either side of his sensitive head, which began to weep watery tears of precum, speeding her slippery strokes.
As David started to thrust his hips to increase the friction, she ordered, 'Open!' and he parted his lips wide to allow his Mistress to slip her elegant painted toes inside to settle on his tongue. Instinctively, David began to suck gently on the tasty treats, laving them tenderly.
'That's it, boy, tongue me well. I expect you to get into all the nooks and crannies to ensure that every inch is clean and fresh.'
The job would have been a lot easier if he'd removed her stocking first, but serving his Mistress wasn't about what was easy, but what was right. If she'd wanted her stockings removed he felt sure she would have ordered it. As it was, he started focusing on one toe at a time, Sucking it as far inside the hot, wet cavern of his mouth as was possible and using his tongue to flick and lap at the mouth-watering valleys between. Once every morsel of taste had been sucked off and between all five toes, he thought to release them and turn to her other foot.
'Uh-uh, boy. Just where do you think you are going? I hope you do not believe it is acceptable to leave a job half finished?' she admonished sternly, pressing home her point by forcing more of her foot past his straining lips.
Now David's jaw was stretched wide as her toes worked their way to the back of his mouth, triggering his gag reflex.
'Relax your throat, boy, and let me all the way in. I want to feel your tongue bathing my sole.'
David did his best to control his choking, focussing on her face as she smiled down at him with a dreamy but somewhat wicked smile on her face.
'Mind your teeth now. Trust me, you do not want to snag my pretty stockings.'
David was stuffed full of his Mistress, trying desperately to breath through his nose as her toes tickled his tonsils. However, his focus was being sorely tested as her other foot sped up its ministrations on his aching shaft. He longed to grasp her ankle and stroke her silky calf but forced his hands into tight fists at his sides, channelling his energies into pleasing his Mistress with the best tongue bath she had ever experienced. And as he savoured her salty sole, he mused that there were worse ways to replace the electrolytes he may have lost during the day's exertions.
Withdrawing her slippery foot from his mouth, Kate positioned her heel for a final mouthing then swapped feet. Immediately, David's mouth was flooded with a renewed burst of flavour, and he set to work, paying homage to his Goddess to the best of his abilities, glowing in submissive contentment. And, for this he was rewarded. Kate pressed firmer, grinding his shaft against his sweating, precum-slicked lower belly as she worked him into a frenzy of unleashed arousal, her toes tightly gripping him just below his crown in a way that had him begging her for permission to spend.
Kate held him on the edge for several more agonising moments before issuing the command, 'Cum for me now, boy!' which had him arching and groaning his release until ropes of sticky cum painted his belly and chest with a masterpiece that rivalled anything he has seen at the gallery earlier. However, his lust-inspired splashes did not remain immortalised for long as Kate ran her toes through the gelatinous droplets, transforming them into the swirls and strokes of a true artist.
As David regained his breath and opened his eyes, it was to see his Mistress unclipping and slowly rolling down her stockings, dropping them one by one in the drying mess on his chest. 'And now, pet, you will clean yourself up. Use my stockings to reach anywhere that your tongue cannot and then I want you to suck them clean while I have a nice, relaxing shower.'
David would have liked nothing better than to tend to Kate inside that steamy cubicle, but she had given him an order, so he did his best to suppress the images of her hands caressing and soaping her intimate areas and got to work on swiping up the cooling jizz. Balling the sticky stockings up, he grimaced as he crammed them into his mouth, sucking them clean of his glutinous, musky leavings as he went to make dinner.
David was a good cook, even if he said it himself. He enjoyed working with his hands, creating something from raw ingredients. And then there was the methodical nature of following a process which appealed to the task-oriented part of his psyche. It was the perfect balance of artistic and mathematical, employing both right and left brain, and it gave him a wonderful sense of satisfaction. Knowing that he was making food for his Mistress made every emotion that much richer. And, though it was probably not a very submissive thing to think, David admitted to himself there was a caveman part of him that got a kick out of providing for 'his woman'. He wondered at some level, whether she would get just a little thrill out of that too? Or probably, most likely, she'd have him back over the ottoman with a hot, welted bottom and a well-stuffed ass, learning his place right quick!
It wasn't long before the whole loft apartment was infused with the fragrance of Moroccan chicken with butternut squash; a surprisingly simple dish that he'd learned to cook after travelling in his youth. Luckily, Kate kept a well-stocked kitchen, whose fridge had an overabundance of fresh, healthy food. The spicy, exotic scent once again transported him to that cushioned boudoir, and he felt that he would be right at home serving as a body slave to his beautiful, reclining Mistress.
However, exotic fantasies were soon swept away by the view of Kate returning from her shower. She was dressed in a diaphanous negligee, which gave a tantalising tease of her naked body beneath. When she passed in front of the window, her lithe silhouette was outlined by the bright late afternoon sun and she appeared an ethereal creature, an other-worldly figment of his fevered imagination. And then she was standing right in front of him, the orange blossom scent from her shower cream eclipsing that of the dinner, while her fresh pink skin, devoid of any make-up, lent her a youthful innocence which was belied by the thrust of a plump, dusky-rose nipple peeking through the gossamer lace.
