Toe Bows

Stan finished setting up the coffee maker and clicked it on. She had called about an hour ago and asked if it was okay for her to stop by. She was due any minute now. "Whew," he said out loud to no one in particular since he was alone in the house. He marveled that just the thought of her could cause a flutter in his chest and a nearly tear-producing lump in his throat. "Damn woman, it's a good thing you don't know how deep you got your hook into me," he muttered as he consciously took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully.

But she did know because it was nearly the same for her. She found herself happy and anxious each time she met him. Waves of excitement rippled through her belly and she tried mightily to control her blushing but never could do so.

Several years before he had told her she had a standing invitation to come by for coffee. Until that day she had only met him in public places for some beverage and chat, or maybe lunch. They took turns buying. When he told her she was safe with him should she come to his home, she said, "I know. I trust you. I just don't trust me".

When she described her visits to a massage therapist she arched her back and raised her hand to touch the back of her neck and shoulder. She had just pointed out the pain and tension to him. "I would do that for you," he volunteered but she rejected his offer saying it would be best to leave that to Joe, her massage therapist.

"I'm afraid I'd like it too much and want you to ...well, never mind," she grinned at him. She began to blush. "Just teasing," she added quickly in an effort to quench her blush. He wanted to share what ever was in her mind and smiled when he asked her what she was blushing about. She grimaced and shook her head slowly and leaned into the table toward him. After propping both arms on the table she rested her chin in her cupped hands.

"You get a whole body massage when you go?" he asked.

"Yes, it's wonderful," she replied.

"What do you wear?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied. "It's a professional thing, like going to the doctor."

"I see. All you'd have to do with me is remove your blouse and slip the shoulder straps of your bra down onto your arms. You'd be lying face down anyway." She shook her head slowly from side to side. A hard knot of disappointment slowly sank from his chest into the pit of his stomach.

He even modified his offer to having her sit in a chair while he worked on her from behind and she didn't have to remove any of her clothing. He did inject the proviso that she pay him a dollar in advance so the whole thing would be a professional exchange. He had offered her a foot massage under the same conditions. Then he commented, "Don't just put down the dollar and stand up and start taking your pantyhose off...you'll give me a heart attack." Paula just smiled.

She seemed a bit on edge sitting across his dining table from him. Twirling her coffee mug she looked down into it. She was torn...wanting to leave before she submitted to this man and wanting him to possess her, embrace her with his firm arms, pulling her body to his and kiss her ravenously until she melted into him. She dug in her purse, found her wallet and placed two dollar bills on the glass table half way between them. "Neck & shoulders then foot massage" she breathed.

"Sure thing, he responded, then rose, moved behind her and began to massage the back of her neck with his thumbs. "Tell me if I hit a sore spot or am pressing too hard," he told her. She nodded her head. His fingers followed the tight muscles their length, ligament to ligament and then back again. He would have liked to work on bare skin with some lotion or oil but refrained from suggesting it. The pressure of his hands rippled the material at the front of her dress giving him little glimpses of the interior edges of her bra cups. It was white lace over white satin. It almost gleamed in contrast to the bordeaux-carmel-brown paisley print pattern of her dress. He wanted to slide his hands down the front of her and unbutton it, but he didn't. Instead he suggested she close her eyes and describe what was playing on the screen in her mind.

"Oh, I was just thinking how pleasant and relaxing this all is. Humm, at the same time there's a lot of tension in me," she said. Her hands were resting on her thighs. He saw them close just a bit and then she let her shoulders drop, realizing she was tense. He worked on her upper back and neck for several more minutes then rested his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezed

"Okay, go take off your pantyhose and get in the recliner," he directed.

"They're thigh highs," she said as she rose from the chair. Moving to the recliner she pulled up her dress and sat on the edge of the seat. After removing her shoes she slowly removed one stocking. There was a brief moment when he glimpsed what had to be her lavender panties as she worked her fingers inside the elastic top of the second stocking. He stood transfixed as she bent forward and stripped it slowly down her leg. Glancing up at him she smiled. She was teasing him and he knew it.

"You're outrageous," he scolded with a grin.

"Just a teasy bitch, huh?" she laughed.

"Yeah. I'll get the lotion. Be right back." When he returned to the living room she was sitting back in the chair with her legs crossed. The hem of her dress was back to its proper place. "Reach down with your right hand and pull on the lever," he told her. He wanted to distract her from noticing some extra things he had brought in addition to the lotion. The leg rest rose under her calves and left her feet jutting over the edge. He deposited the items he was holding just below her feet except for one. There was a quizzical little smile on her face, which he left unanswered as he installed the black sleep mask over her eyes and gently positioned the elastic band around her head. "Now lie back and relax while I put some music on," he told her. When she leaned back and the chair yielded to her, there was a mixture of amusement and anxiety showing on her mouth.

The music was some of her favorite rhythm & blues tunes. Stan sat cross-legged on the floor facing the bottoms of her feet. He pumped a dollop of lotion into one hand and then rubbed his palms together warming the creamy stuff. Starting in the center of her left foot he worked with enough pressure to insure the strokes wouldn't tickle her. After a minute or two he used more lotion to work the sides and bottom of her heel then moved up to her anklebone. He was giving special attention to her Achilles tendon when the first small moan issued from her. With a new supply of lotion he began working the basal joints of her toes with occasional excursions to her arch and outside of her midsole.

Not in protest but in pleasure she moaned as he applied firm pressure to her midsole with both thumbs, his fingers opposing them on the top of her arch. "God your good," she breathed. He said nothing but continued to work slowly, treating each toe individually. Then he went back to the underside of her arch and used more pressure until her hips bucked and she uttered a sound that was half growl and half moan.

Stan made the same slow, sensuous tour of her right foot, extracting more sounds from her. Then he put one hand on each foot and began a dual massage of the underside of both arches. He increased the pressure slowly until she began to squirm and she was repeating, "Ooh, oooh, oooh," as if she was nearing orgasm. He eased the pressure off slowly and finally stopped just long enough to grab one of the two longer lavender satin ribbons on the carpet. He wrapped it twice around her big toe after getting on his knees. Finishing with a shoestring bow, he repeated the procedure with the other long ribbon on her other big toe.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly.

"Decorating your toes," he responded. "No extra charge." He continued to work until each of her toes was ligatured with a satin ribbon. Then he stood, moved beside her and removed the sleep mask. She blinked a couple of times and smiled as she looked at her feet. She wiggled her toes and animated the bows. As she started to sit up he pushed the back of the recliner back to its horizontal position. "Actually, I lied...sort of. Your toes are decorated but I was also putting you in bondage. You are now totally under my power. You have no will of your own. You will be pleased to do exactly as I say, without question or complaint," he said evenly.

"And what if I don't want to play your little game," she smiled up at him.

"That will be your loss," he said emphatically.

"Okay, let's see where it goes," she agreed.

"Pull up your dress. I want to see those gorgeous legs again." Paula bubbled a chuckle, grasped a handful of dress and moved it as high as she could without changing her position to free the back of the dress trapped under her thighs. "Show me more," he growled at her. Her hips and legs rippled; she tugged the hem of her dress to her navel and smiled at him. There was a glow to her very brief lavender panties and a dark translucence where they were wet over the lips of her love rose. "Oh my, we must remove your panties so they can dry. Raise your hips," he commanded as he grasped the strings at the outsides of her hips. She did so and he pulled her panties off her hips, down her legs and clear of her.

Never had he seen a sweeter smile than after he glimpsed her moist, close-cropped lips and set her panties to dry on the back of the love seat just behind him. "Down the hall, last door on your right, close and lock the latch and leave your aura there for me with no less than four orgasms," he instructed her. Her eyes moved up to his as a smile of connection and compliance spread across her face.

"Your sensuality and spirituality overwhelm me, sir. How could I refuse." Evenly she moved away from him and went to do as she was instructed. He heard a couple of them, even through the closed door. A brief gasp and then a scream of pure pleasure.

Sometime later she glided down the hall, a sense of satisfaction embracing her mood and movements. "I could get to like this game," she breathed as her eyes swept appreciatively across him.

Her toes glowed with the iridescence of ten lavender bows. It went clear up into her eyes, having set her heart on fire as it passed. Her dress was in place as he encircled her waist with his hands. "My control bows are still in place around your pretty toes. Sit on the edge of the recliner and pull up your dress," he said, leaving no doubt that she must do exactly as he directed.

He knelt on the floor before her and slowly spread her bare thighs. Taking her hands in his, he moved them to the hem of her dress, caused her to grip it and hold it high and close to her navel. Then he bent forward and kissed the petals of her rose. First the right and then the left lip he sucked into his mouth and then flittered his tongue across. He began to tongue-fuck her going as deep as he could. Her hips yielded and he found her clit and sucked it into his puckered lips so he could flick it with his tongue. She yipped and gasped but he would not let up. Then her low moan rose to a scream as she went breathlessly half an octave higher with each thrust of his tongue.

Some minutes later she shrieked in ecstasy as he licked her slit and tongue-flicked her clit. First she pushed into him and then drew away, afraid that his tongue would consume her. His hands were over hers, pressing her skirt away from her hips, wanting to fill her.

It was never clear whether she slipped willingly off the chair or if he pulled her onto his purple-veined shaft. The sound she made was infinite surrender, a moan of oneness as they coupled as only a man and woman in love can. Not long after he screamed as he slammed up into her again and again.

Later he escorted her to her car in his driveway. She was barefoot and there were ten lovely lavender satin bows still tied to her toes.

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