Elusive Desire

At first, I don't even consciously notice it. It's little things. The click-clicking of your heels on hardwood floors, the way your foot hangs somehow just in the corner of my vision when stopping in at my favorite coffee shop in the morning. I don't know when it started. I know that it wasn't as frequent as it is now. Maybe I only sense you, or was it even you, every few days. But something seems to have changed. Everywhere I go now, I seem to find you waiting, just leaving as I enter, or entering as I'm leaving. It seems too often to be any kind of coincidence, but I shrug it off.

But the feeling that I'm missing something is too insistent. How are you everywhere I go and everywhere I've been? Why are my eyes so drawn to your heeled feet? Why do I find my ears listening intently for the first echoes of your shoes as I walk around, never knowing when I will see you next, convinced that it has at last proven to be a complete coincidence, right up until I see you again.

Eventually, I decide that I need to confront you. And yet every time I see you, I make excuses to myself. I'm in a hurry after all, or I don't want to cause a scene. My brain seems to fuzz whenever I'm near you, even though I don't know that I've ever seen your face. I'm honestly not even sure I've ever seen more than your heels and legs, although I must have looked you in the face at least once, even if I can't remember it now for the life of me.

Soon, I figure out a plan. Since I never seem to be able to recall your face, I clearly need to find a way to be able to see you even when I'm not in the same room as you. And so I set up a GoPro on my bag, so that even if I don't look at anything other than your feet, I will at least be able to eventually get some video of you to study at home. And yet, now that I've set up the camera, I don't seem to ever see you again. Where before you were ubiquitous, now you're scarce. I almost think I see you a few times, but it turns out to be a complete stranger.

I have to give up my search, heading back to my apartment. And once I've shut the door and start walking toward the lamp, I'm suddenly interrupted by the sexiest voice I've ever heard, "Someone's been a very bad boy..."

The voice stops me in my tracks. It sounds strangely familiar, as if I've heard it before in a crowded room, but I can't place it. You hit the lights, walking slowly toward me, your heels clicking across the floor, your hips swaying seductively. At last I am able to see your face, but again, I'm haunted by its hazy familiarity. My eyes are drawn to yours, to the delightfully cruel smirk on your lips, drinking in your entire body as if I've been wandering through a desert and the sight of you is a glittering oasis.

You stop just short of me, your heels bringing you surprisingly close to my height. You look at me in silence for a moment, before slowly bringing one finger to rest against my forward. I feel so confused about what's happening. Why are you touching me like this? Why don't I want to stop you? Pressing gently against my forehead, you whisper, just at the edge of hearing, "Strip for me, slave."

I want to laugh. Who do you think you are? I want to slap your hand away. I want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, demanding to know who you are, why you're here, why you've been following me. I want to shout and scream. I want to do so many things.

Imagine my surprise when I begin to do the very last thing I want to do. I can feel my mouth hanging open as I rip off my clothes, keeping my eyes on yours as much as possible as I'm ducking out of my shirt and shimmying out of my pants. When I'm down to my underwear, I flush bright red, but don't stop. And I'm in for another surprise. I'm rock hard for you, standing naked in front of you, as your eyes rake up and down my body, weighing me against some ideal known only to you. Though I have stripped, my hands are still desperately trying to conceal my cock, although it's hard to conceal something standing straight out from your body, and you run one finger down my chest, all the way to my cock, tracing its length, as my hands fall away.

"You may be wondering how you found yourself in this situation," you say, echoing my thoughts exactly.

With the nail of one finger pressing into the head of my cock, you tilt your head and look at me thoughtfully. "Before I explain why I have this power over you, I really think there is something else you should be doing...On the floor, slave. Worship me."

Like lightning, my legs collapse under me, and I find myself crouched before you, my mouth kissing your ankles and feet, my tongue washing the slick surface of shining black heels, exploring the gap between the heels and the arches of your feet, kissing your toes peeking out at the front. And as I worship your feet and heels, you continue to talk, just loudly enough to be at the edge of hearing, forcing me to split my concentration between listening and showing my devotion to your feet.

"You won't even remember the first time you saw me. I found you walking home one night, a light buzz giving you just enough confidence to say hi to me as our paths crossed, but also making you just suggestible enough to fall under my spell. We only spoke a little, just enough for me to deepen the haziness of the alcohol fogging your brain and to plant the desire to serve me, a desire that would start small and steadily grow every time you saw my heels, blossoming eventually into outright and complete devotion to me.

From then on, I was waiting for you wherever you went. I'm not sure that you even noticed me much at first, but as time passed, it became evident how deeply you were falling under my spell, your head falling slack, your eyes vacant, losing time in a half-asleep trance in coffee-shops, wandering aimlessly on streets as I led you around, my heels as sure a guide as a ring in your nose. But when I saw you trying so fruitlessly to catch me out, I knew that it was time."

As you've been talking, my mouth hasn't ceased in its ministrations to your feet, each kiss and lick an orison offered up in worship of you. Your heels are slickly shining, drawing me deeper into you, and the whole time, I'm desperate to look up, to see the point where your legs meet, to stare at your breasts, to see once more your eyes piercing me, but my entire world is occupied with your feet and the sound of your voice washing over me.

"And now, my dear little fuck-slut, it's time to see how well you can serve me. Lie on your back please. Every time I snap my fingers, I want you to say these words, 'I worship you, goddess,' no matter what else your mouth might be doing."

And as I turn onto my back, you step up so your heels are planted on either side of my head, and my vision is occluded by the sight of your pussy slowly coming towards me.

As your pussy covers my mouth, you snap your fingers for the first time. "I worship you, goddess," I mumble into your cunt.

"Oh, surely we can do better than that," I hear from somewhere above me, followed by the snap of your fingers. This time, I try to say it as loudly as I can, and as my mouth opens fully, you grind your pussy into it, releasing the pent-up wetness in your pussy into my mouth in a slow flood, filling me with the coppery clean taste of you. My mouth wrapped around your cunt, my tongue begins to explore you, pressing into your pussy, tasting every inch of you inside, straining to reach further and further into you. As I eat your pussy, every once in a while you snap your fingers again, and though the words are barely distinguishable with my tongue inside of you and your pussy muffling my mouth, I call them out into you as loudly as I can.

The whole time I'm eating you, I'm quite in the dark, as your dress covers my eyes, but as you ride my face, you slowly begin to lift the dress over your head, bringing my eyes back into the light of your form, your tits hanging above me, and your mouth smiling deliciously at me. I'm entirely conscious of your heels on either side of me, penning me in, and my thoughts are occupied wholly with serving your pussy with my mouth. As you begin to press harder and harder on me, settling your weight onto my face, you reach down, with your fingers just inches from my eyes to snap your fingers, and as I begin my prayer to you once more, you use your fingers to massage your clit, riding me to orgasm, releasing yourself fully into my mouth.

As you slide down my body, I think my service is about at an end, but you move past my cock, settling yourself on the floor between my legs, your own legs pressing against my chest, as I find myself helplessly staring at them, and past them at you. Then, taking my cock firmly in your hand, you begin to stroke me, commanding me as you do, "Suck my heel as if it were a cock."

I find myself taking all five inches of your heel inside of my mouth, letting my tongue roll around it, trying desperately not to lose focus as I can feel my eyes rolling back into the head at the sensations in my cock. As I suck on one heel, the other is playing with me, pressing into me, making itself known, until you have your heels switch places, and I'm sucking on the other, all the while as I stare intently up your legs to your hand pumping my cock, and I can feel my balls tighten, as you snap your fingers once more, and I moan out with a gasp, "I worship you, goddess," as my cum spurts into the air, falling back onto your hand.

Somehow, you manage to gather all my spunk up with your hand, and bringing it to my mouth, you order me to suck it clean, swallowing every last drop of my cum.

"Now, my little pet, it's time to really play," you say, your eyes so close to mine I can't think of anything else but pleasing you.

You allow me to my feet, walking around me in a slow circle, judging and examining every inch of my body, until at last you have finished your inspection. Leading me over to my own dining room table, you order me to place my hands flat on the table away from my body, my chest pressed to the table, so that my ass is the highest point on my entire body, lifted up into the air, legs slightly spread. Once I'm positioned exactly how you would like me, my chin resting on the table, you give each of my ass cheeks a hard slap, pausing after each slap to squeeze tightly, making me clench, and stirring my cock to an erection once more.

You run one finger along my shaft, causing it to grow even harder, longer, and then walk away. I can hear your footsteps retreating with the sound of your heels, moving to another room, and all I can think about is how much I want you back, how much I want to serve and worship your body with my every word, thought, and action, even as a shrinking corner of my consciousness recoils in horror at the thought. When you come back, you enter my field of vision slowly, and out of the corner of my eye I can see a harness around your hips and something in your hands. At last I can see that it's a long dildo.

"Hmmm, worried about something, baby? This isn't anything. Just a little something fun. I'll slide right into your tight little asshole, reminding you that I own you, inside and out. Now, you better get it nice and wet, or else it won't be very pleasant for you."

With that suggestion lingering, I open my mouth and take the dildo down my throat, your hands guiding it in my mouth, pushing it further and further into me. With each thrust, the dildo is getting wetter and wetter, and I can feel how full it is in my mouth, the way the silicone texture of it begins to warm up with the heat of my body. And I can also feel my body beginning to resist this invasion, my throat closing up, my whole body clenching, though incapable of any overt movement. Sensing my discomfort, you use one hand to knot your fingers in my hair, pulling my head up off the table, my throat opening involuntarily as it does.

"Be a good little fuck-toy and take it all the way in now."

Though I'm starting to gag, I swallow your cock as far as I can, feeling it in my throat, pressing against me, and as it pulls back in your hands, I can feel myself coughing onto it, coating it even more with thick saliva. And as you fuck my mouth and throat, my eyes begin to water, the tears rolling and joining with the drool coming out of the corners of my mouth to form indistinguishable rivulets of agony mingled with desire, until at last, you slide the long dildo all the way in, its flared base pressing against my lips, and I hold it inside of me for a moment, until with one large burst, it slides all the way out into your hands.

"Very good, pet. I just hope your asshole is as hungry for my cock as you are," you say, winking at me lasciviously.

The dildo is glistening with my saliva all over it as you slide it into the harness and walk around to my ass, the sound of your heels my only cue as to where you are. A vague sense of unease lingers in the back of my mind. What if it hurts? What if it hurts and you don't stop? Or...what if it doesn't hurt? What if I don't want you to stop?

You start slowly, using the head of the strap-on to tease my asshole, tricking it into loosening up. Your heels have lifted your hips to the perfect height to enter into me, and once the head of your cock is inside me, my ass begins to hungrily swallow the rest, in little thrusts from your hip, each thrust going a bit deeper, until at last it is pressed all the way in, and you stand motionless astride me, your hands grasping my hips and you pull almost all the way out, and slide back in, slamming into my ass in one great thrust that parallels the rush of my in-drawn breath as I take you so fully and quickly into me, your strap-on stimulating my prostate, driving me to leak pre-cum from my cock.

Suddenly, I hear a buzzing noise, which is soon muffled as it translates into a series of vibrations moving up and into me. As you begin to moan, I realize that you've slipped a vibrator into the base of the strap-on, causing it to pulse inside of me as it massages your clit. Our moans are coming in counterpoint as you thrust into me, until at last they reach a zenith, and you slam all the way in and hold the cock in place, reaching for my cock and pumping, spraying my load all over the floor, the table, down my legs, and as I cum, you're grinding your pussy against the strap-on, bringing yourself to orgasm, riding that wave again and again and again.

As you pull out of my ass, you pat my hip, whispering, as much to yourself as to me, "Good boy. We're going to have a lot of fun together."