Chapter 1
Maya in control
It was a sunlit room with an open window, sunlight bathing in. The room is filled with bullet sounds but no one in the room was holding a gun. Those sounds are coming from a television set, some action movie was rolling on the TV. But Maya wasn't even paying attention to the movie in front of her. She was sitting on a single couch and a man laying at her feet.
"Oh, common. Good boy, Did I tell you to stop?" She asked. With that, the man laying at her feet started licking her shoes. His eagerness, however, turned the thin line of her mouth to a smile, then to a grin. As he continued, the edges of her lips continued trying to reach her ears. In the end, half of her teeth are showing though no sound left her.
After a few moments passed, she kicked him back, more of a push than a kick. The man came out of the shadow of his mistress and the couch into the sunlight. With light falling straight onto his face his features were visible now. An ugly round face with no hair on his head or face except for small eyebrows, which were shaved a day or two ago and growing slowly back. His dark brown eyes gleamed with fervor on some task on which his life depends. He was a handsome man before all this, whatever this was, one might even say he was beautiful. The man didn't even seem to notice the pain, the kick caused to his shoulder. He crawled forward dragging his legs with him, like his mind telling him 'The mistress didn't order me to stop', and continued with his task. He started at her shoe like a wolf falling on his prey. Hungry, eager, nothing else to care.
That broke Maya, she started laughing uncontrollably. The only sounds Maya could hear in the room were the soft lapping noises of the man at her shoes, louder were the dramatic dialogues on the TV which no one seemed to care and the loudest were her own laughs ringing in her ears. They were growing louder with every moment that passed. Suddenly, she uncrossed her legs and crossed them again to the other side pushing the shoe on the other foot to his face. He accepted it gladly and started lapping at the other shoe. Her laugh didn't seem to stop any time soon. She sat looking at him intently.
"Good boy," she mused "Why do you do these things?" He often asked himself the same question and promised himself he will not do those things again with shame.
But that shame just only lasted for a few minutes after masturbation. After that, he wanted to do those things all over again. He wanted to be thumped by his mistress, humiliated by her. But his mistress didn't ask him 'Have you thought about it?' No, his mistress asked 'why?' And he doesn't know why he wants to do those things.