Beths Shin Socks Feet Domination Ch 04

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The continuing story of Beth Sands, a sexy company president, and her domination of young Michael, an employee, whom she'd enslaved with her sexy calves, socks and feet. You'll be more familiar with the theme if you read the prior three stories, but that's the nutshell summary. This chapter contains more of the same - female domination of a male, with enforced cum-eating and oral slavery - and delves into male-to-male sexual contact. Please enjoy if this sort of thing appeals to you, I offer the synopsis as warning to those who may not, and enticement to those who do...

*****

Michael groused on the way back to his room, anxious to wash the scent of her off him, and with it, the growing shame over what she'd done to him.

She was Beth Sands, a sexy 60-year-old woman who happened to be the CEO of the company Michael worked for. She'd dominated him sexually in a hotel bar, and later in his room where the unnerving truth came out: He'd be speaking the next day at the company conference, finding out that she was his boss, much to his chagrin and her controlling delight.

And she'd dominated him that day as well, by her stares throughout his stammering speech, and later in the lady's room, taking his face prisoner of her lusty old ass and powerful legs and smelly socks. The humiliation continued later when she curried favor with another young worker, Bradford, going as far as letting the young man caress her supple calves under the table at lunch, making Michael watch. The shelling of Michael's confused mind continued when Beth revealed Bradford and Michael were both in the running for the job as her administrative assistant.

And the way she carried on with the handsome, doting, sycophantic Bradford, Michael feared the job he longed to have would escape him.

At the end of the day, she'd told him to meet them in the hotel lounge at 8, where the "interview" process for the job would continue. Dinner for three: Herself, Michael and Bradford.

He went to his room, turning on the shower as hot as it would get, and climbed beneath the scorching spray, scrubbing himself practically raw, thinking of how she'd dominated and shamed him earlier. Though he washed her ass scent from his face, and rinsed the taste of his own cum from his mouth that she'd made him suck off her muscular old calves, no amount of cleaning could cleanse the guilt he felt for allowing himself to succumb to her deviant wishes.

And it made his dick hard. He groaned, trying not to think of her ageless body, her wrinkled, sexy neck, her alluring muscular legs, her dirty black socks and smelly shoes, all of it. But it was all he could think of as he slowly stroked his cock with a handful of soapy lather, cursing the readiness of it.

He stopped just short of cumming, his mind racing with thoughts of her, perversely thinking she'd want him to save his cream for her. For Mother, as she made him call her. That thought alone nearly made him shoot his load even as he'd stopped touching himself.

He entered the hotel lounge a little before eight, looking nervously around at the small dining area toward the rear. She was nowhere in sight, so he flagged down a waitress.

"Uh, I'm supposed to meet Mrs. Sands, Beth Sands, for dinner here, but I'm not sure...," he said.

"Oh, she reserved the private dining area out back, follow me," the young woman said brightly.

Michael did, and she walked through a door into a very small room with only a few tables. All were empty save for one tiny, cozy booth - where Beth sat laughing, Bradford by her side, leaning into her to tell her what Michael presumed she wanted to hear.

"Fucking kiss-ass," he hissed to himself.

She'd seen him before he'd seen her, laughing more loudly on purpose at young Bradford's bad attempts to humor her, and noticed Michael's reaction, a mix of anger and disappointment. It pleased her.

"Michael, dear boy, do have a seat!" she announced brightly as the waitress brought him over.

They'd been there awhile, that was clear, from the two empty wine glasses next to two full ones. The waitress took away the empties, and turned to Michael as he sat. At the only available seat, the one at the other end of the table, behind which his boss and the kiss ass sat quite closely on the single bench seat.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

"Yes, I'll have a Stoli, straight up," Michael said.

"No, he'll have the house white wine," Beth corrected with a smile and a quick look at Michael, adding, "company expenses mandate it."

The waitress left and Beth leaned over to him.

"Actually, Michael, the company will pick up the tab for just the two of us, Bradford and myself," she sighed. "Some silly rule my late husband instituted that I haven't gotten around to changing yet. So I thought I'd save you some of your own money by ordering the cheaper wine for you. You don't mind, do you dear? Of course you don't. Your dinner is on you as well. Check out the menu, I'm sure there's something someone on your salary can afford!"

"Me, I'm thinking of the filet for dinner, and crab legs for an appetizer!" Bradford laughed, his hand tucked down under the table drawing Michael's eyes to them as he was sure he was fondling Mrs. Sands' gorgeous gams. "That OK, Beth, you pretty little boss lady? Crab legs?"

"Of course, my dear, of course!" Beth answered brightly, lifting her glass of what Michael presumed to be expensive wine to her red lips and sipping. "Legs are perfect! Don't you think so, Michael? Legs?"

Her eyes widened staring at Michael as she said it. Legs. Her legs. Her legs are all he could think about, those marvelously muscled old calves bulging above the dirty black socks she wore. His dick stiffened in his pants and he wished now he'd relieved himself in the shower.

Never had Michael felt more like a fifth wheel, completely out of place as Bradford continued to chatter away, a mindless blather that contained no easy way in for Michael to cut in, to offer something witty, something pertinent. He was left out of the conversation completely, saying nothing and just stewing in his own gathering gloom and anger as the evening progressed, far more slowly than he would have liked.

The appetizers came with Michael's cheap chicken tenders and the ridiculous suck-ass Bradford's $40 crab legs, into which he dove noisily, sucking the sweet meat from the shell as Beth delicately ate her escargot.

"Good legs, Bradford?" she cooed to the slurping young man sitting so very close to her. "Nothing like good legs, are there Michael?"

"I wouldn't know," he answered dryly. "I can't afford them."

"Now, now, don't be like that, Michael," she said curtly. "Do have a leg, Michael. Bradford, since the tab is on me, do be a dear and offer Michael one of my legs..."

He thought his dick would explode in his pants as she said it, staring straight into his eyes, her sexy wrinkled lips puckering into a sly smile. Bradford shrugged and clattered the smallest crab leg he could find into Michael's plate. He picked it up and grimly cracked the shell, sucking out the flesh inside, trying not to notice how insanely good it was.

Dinner continued, with Michael's single pathetic pork chop, Bradford's filet, Beth's lobster. He picked at it, appetite dissolving by the second as the young kiss ass inched closer to their boss, making jokes that got worse with every one, her laughter, and stares at Michael cutting him to his core.

Between dinner and dessert, Bradford excused himself to go to the bathroom, stumbling as he did, clearly having had too much to drink. Beth smiled at Michael, leaning on her folded hands.

"Young man, your stand-offish behavior has been noted," she sighed.

"For Chrissakes, Beth, what the hell...what the hell do you expect!" Michael found himself saying loudly. "How can I...he's such an ass...this isn't far, dammit, it's just not fair!"

"Michael, what did you just call me?" she growled. "Did you just call me Beth?"

"Mrs...oh, dammit, Mother, I'm sorry, Mother, please..." he cried, remembering her insistence on being called that when they were alone. "But please...Mother...it's not fair!"

She smiled that smile, dark and foreboding, leaning back. Suddenly Michael's balls were compressed. She'd extended her legs up, kicking off her shoes, and rammed her socked feet right into his crotch. He winced in pain as she pressed harder, crushing his balls against his body. A small sweat broke on his brow. He looked under the table where her socked toes wiggled against him, and beyond them, a flash of the calves that drove him wild as she slowly pulled up her trouser legs to the knees.

"Fair has nothing to do with life, Michael," she cooed darkly. "Pleasing me does. Pleasing me is all that matters right now, young man. You do want to please me, don't you."

She didn't state it as a question. Michael gulped, inhaling deeply as she punched her socked feet harder into his balls. The sudden breath brought with it the pungent scent of her feet and socks. She had clearly not changed them in awhile. She smiled.

"They're so foul, aren't they, my black socks?" she giggled. "I decided to give you the pleasure of wearing the same ones I've had on for days now. The same ones I fouled with your sperm last night. The same ones you sniffed and licked today in the bathroom as I used my calves on your hard. Young. Cock."

His was in full flower now. Which Beth found, inching her feet up over his mashed balls and onto his stiff prick. She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

"You are so predictable, Michael, I'm not sure I want someone as predictable as you on my team," she sighed, wiggling her soles against his dick, making him moan, making his balls ache to give release even if it meant cumming in his pants and adding to the already heaping mountain of humiliation. "The slightest touch of my socks...the scent of my feet...the sight of my shiny shins and muscular calves...makes you hard! So predictable, Michael, so very predictable..."

She stroked his cock now, rubbing her feet up and down it, making him groan and fight the urge to cum. She suddenly dropped her feet to the floor and Michael's hips instinctively pumped the air, eager for the friction to return.

"Get under the table, son," she snarled. "Now."

Michael groaned, obeying, sliding under the table and kneeling in the dark. Only a couple feet away were those shiny shins and muscular calves and dirty socks as Beth crossed her legs, the top leg creased in a sexy flare around the shin, her filthy socks coming up to the bulge of muscle in back.

"Smell that sock," she growled.

Michael blindly obeyed. He bent his head forward to that nasty old socked foot bobbing at the end of her sexy crossed leg, burying his nose in the fabric. The stench was overpowering, funky and raw, smelling of his old crusty cum and her foot sweat. He inhaled deeply, blanching at first at the pungent flavor, then reveling in it, his cock at the bursting point in his pants.

"Where'd Michael go?"

Bradford had returned, sliding in next to Beth, his hand appearing to Michael's eyes, caressing her solid thigh through her black slacks.

"Oh, he had a family thing, he had to attend to, by phone, he offered his regrets but he had to leave for awhile," Beth sighed, her hand coming into view and patting his. "You are a randy young man, aren't you Bradford? You can't keep your hand off this old lady's thighs or calves, can you?"

"This sexy old lady," Bradford growled. "Glad the little shit is gone, more time alone with you, pretty woman!"

Michael cringed, still smelling her reeking sock and watching her point to the solid bubble of her calf, indicating that was his next destination. He traced his slavish tongue up over the top of her sock, lapping the salty shin and then around back, nervously licking the freckled, meaty thickness of Beth's supple calf, feeling the steely muscle quiver under his tongue.

He heard wet sounds, kissing sounds, and knew the punk was making out with his boss, making his growing humiliation all the more acute.

"My neck, Bradford," she cooed. "Do be a dear boy and suckle my neck, it's very sensitive and loves to be worshipped."

"You got it, boss lady," Bradford groaned and then Michael heard the slobbering sucking sounds of the punk sucking on Beth's gorgeous neck wattle, delicate folds of wrinkled flesh that he had adored himself. "God, you got one gorgeous throat, Beth, you really do...mmmmmm..."

Michael's eyes watered from shame as he lapped at Beth's calf, which she playfully tensed and relaxed, the muscle dancing in his lips. He looked up her thigh, which Bradford was still massaging with his hand, and then at her hand, which slowly slid up the young man's leg to the hard cock above.

"Mmmm, very nice, very nice," she cooed and to Michael's gathering horror, unzipping his pants and tugging out a thick, long, veiny cock, stroking it with her thin fingers. "Much larger than anything I've seen lately!"

The words ripped his heart out but Michael continued sucking and licking her hard calf, more eagerly now, anxious to please her, to outdo the asshole whose dick she now jerked faster and faster. Bradford groaned, nuzzling her neck with increasing urgency. Michael looked up and now Beth worked her fingers over the head, smearing them with the copious pre-cum flowing from Bradford's dick.

And then to his horror, she switched hands fluidly, jerking him with the other, and running the pre-cum soaked fingers of the other under the table. To wipe on the muscular calf Michael was worshipping. And then pointing to it.

He froze. He never in his life had entertained the notion of having sex with another man. This wouldn't be it exactly, but licking up the fluids of a man's cock was close enough. But as he looked at the thick sheen of clear juice coating his boss's undulating calf, he knew he had no choice.

He licked. He ran his tongue into the clear gel warm on her gorgeous calf and scooped it into his mouth. The fluid was tasteless, he noticed to his relief, and he licked it again and again, cleaning every sticky drop from his boss's supple calf, trying to ignore how turned on he was. He felt her shiver as he did, moaning under Bradford's sucking mouth at her wrinkled neck.

Then the other hand came into view, with even more pre-cum coating her fingers, as she moved her other hand back to his cock, stroking it. She wiggled the sticky digits in Michael's face. He gamely opened his mouth, sucking them inside, washing his tongue over them and cleaning them of Bradford's moistness.

His cock throbbed harder. The reason sickened him but made him suck her fingers all the more intently.

The door to the dining room opened, and Beth pulled her fingers from Michael's mouth. He watched her drop her napkin onto Bradford's lap, covering his cock and moving slightly away from him.

"Chocolate mousse for two!" the waitress announced, and Michael heard her put the plate on the table. "Where is..."

"Oh, he left, he won't be joining us, but do charge his meal to his room, which I believe is 223," Beth said politely. "In fact, charge everything to his room, he won't mind, he actually insisted!"

Michael moaned silently beneath the table, calculating the bill in his head and fearing his paltry salary would hardly cover the charges.

He heard them noisily devour the chocolate mousse, stealing wet kisses in between bites, Beth's free hand stroking Bradford's cock and treating Michael to the precum on it as she did. He sucked her fingers harder and with more urgency every time, wondering when the madness would end.

It got worse. The waitress came back, with Bradford and Beth covering their tracks briefly, and cleared the table.

"Miss, we'll be ending our business dinner soon, and do not wish to be disturbed for a bit," Beth said in businesslike voice. "Do make sure no one comes in, we'll leave when we're done."

"Certainly, Mrs. Sands, of course," the waitress answered, leaving the room.

"Now then," Beth growled, turning to kiss her young employee.

Michael watched as she unsnapped her pants, slithering them down to her knees, her massive, pungent hairy bush exploding into view. He heard her blouse being unbuttoned, her bra unsnapped, Bradford's anticipatory moans.

"God, they're beautiful, Beth, so fucking beautiful!" the young man gushed.

"They're all yours, Bradford," she sighed, scooting her butt down a bit, pushing her pussy toward Michael, the scent wafting over his face. "Have at them..."

Michael heard the groans, the insistent slobbering over Beth's thick white tits, Bradford's mouth suckling madly at her huge brown nipples. Bradford's hand came down between Beth's saggy brown thighs and she grabbed it, directing his thumb to her engorged clit.

"Right there!" she groaned as he rubbed the nubbin with his thumb. "Just my clit, work my clit and suck my tits! I love that, my old tits worked while you play with just my clit!!"

Michael knew what she was up to. Diddling just her clit left the pussy below free for him. He moaned silently, pushing his face forward and under the bunched slacks around her bony knees, and up to face that matted, rank pussy. He inhaled the pungent aroma of his boss's pussy, a mix of piss and sweat and musk, forcing aside the hairy lips with his nose, feeling the clammy wetness on it. He moved his head back, his chin forward, his tongue out. It slithered into her creamy hole, deeper and deeper, thrusting into the moist grip of her ageless cunt, her juice flowing quickly and thickly onto his tongue.

"Yeah, like that, Bradford, just...like...that..." she cooed as the young man feasted on her tits and thumbed her clit as Michael devoured her gushing cunt.

The double dose of attention brought her to the edge quickly and with a sudden expulsion of her woman cream, a milky squirt of gel that filled Michael's mouth, washing over his probing tongue. He gulped and smacked his lips, another squirt coating his lips and into his nose. He lapped madly, eager to please her and now she came with a violent clapping of her thighs, slamming them around Michael's sucking face as she twisted Bradford's thumb from her clit, scissoring Michael's head in the quivering, saggy flesh, making him dizzy as her corded inner thigh muscles knifed into his neck, slowing the flow of blood to his brain.

"Wow!" he heard Bradford say, but just barely as Beth's thighs thickened around his ears, crushing his head, muting the sounds of his enthusiasm and her orgasmic grunting. "You cum so damn good, Beth!"

"That I do, that I do," she finally said with a sigh, relaxing her vise grip scissors on Michael's head to let him breathe again, his face soaked with her essence. "You give good thumb, young man!"

They kissed wetly for a few moments, and then Michael saw her lean the young man back against the booth back, tugging his pants down around his knees, and bend over to pop his cock into her puckered mouth.

"Now it's your turn," she snarled, ingesting his huge cock to the balls with one gulp, making the young man who owned it gasp at her proficiency.

"Oh, God, Beth...shit..oh, fuck, NOBODY deep throats me like you, NOBODY!"

"Well, and don't let this go to your head, young man," she laughed, popping his dick free of her sucking mouth for a moment. "But nobody I've known has had a cock quite this big, either!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Bradford laughed.

Michael winced and hated him all the more.

She blew him long and slow, pacing herself, backing off when he seemed to want to burst, speeding up and slowing again. All the while, her eyes were just below the table level, and she would wink at Michael as he watched, eyes wide, full of teary shame. She would occasionally run her fingers into her mouth as she sucked him, coating them with his flowing pre-cum, and then stuff them under the table and into Michael's waiting lips.