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| I need a strong, guiding hand to complete me. Looking for total domination, my world dedicated to the Domme's needs and pleasures. Foot and body worship, beatings and discipline, humiliation, chastity, cbt, tt, financial control, chores, errands, giving massages, reflexology, unrelenting dominance. I go to sleep with thoughts of how to be a better slave, I awake thinking of how I may serve the Mistress. Not looking for casual service, but a strict, demanding Woman. I'm attractive, fit, personable as needed, intelligent, but most importantly, understand my place in the world: to serve. I am also picky and I won't settle for anything but the right person and right situation
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I took off her shoes, the smell was strong from her long day in the heels and she noticed me flinch as I slipped off the shoe. "What's the matter, don't you like the smell." With that comment, she took the ball of her foot and mashed my nose with it and laughed. "That feels good grinding you under my foot." She then tapped my nose several times bringing slight tears to my eyes.
"Please stop that."
"Don't tell me what to do," she snapped. "Take off my other shoe and get to work." She leaned back in the chair, rested one foot on my shoulder like I was her footstool as I massaged the other foot. |
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"Bring me the mail and a glass of water." A simple command and as I stood to comply to her order, I think we both realized that things had changed, I, in particular, realized the change: I was no longer her boyfriend, I was no longer her equal. I returned with her glass of water that I had put in a regular cup and the mail. She was sitting on the couch and looked displeased.
"What is that cup? Is that what you think of me?"
I was confused for a moment and then realized she was talking about the cup.
"Wouldn't a nice crystal glass or at least a wine glass be more appropriate? For once, show some style, some class, some respect." Her tone was harsh and I wanted to protest, but I didn't want to push the point.
I went to the kitchen and returned with her water in the proper glass and began to sit on the couch. "What do you think you are doing?" She saw my confused look and didn't wait for an answer. "You can kneel there." She was pointing at the floor by her high heeled feet.
I looked into her emerald eyes ready to protest, they were fierce, challenging, I knelt down. Without looking up from sorting through the mail, Trish put one foot on my thigh, the other leg crossed, the foot inches away from my face. "Take off my shoes."
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"Can I just stay here a little while longer...until I get a place arranged?"
"It would be easier if you left...and you certainly can't sleep in the bedroom."
We had a one-bedroom apartment. It looked like the couch for me. "Okay, I'll sleep on the sofa."
This wasn't going over well. "No, I don't want you getting it dirty. You can sleep in the closet." Her anger dropped a bit as she thought of suggestion.
"The closet?"
"Take it or leave it. Your choice."
"Okay, I guess it won't be that bad."
I looked up at Trish, she had an evil glint in her eye. "I want coffee and fresh juice in the morning."
"Okay." Trish was somewhat dominant, some would say pushy, at times, but this was beyond, this was a command. "I guess you're the boss right now."
She was peering down at me watching my reaction. "That's right, I like that attitude." She seemed to relax a little, back down from her angry posture. "You know, I could use a foot massage right now, I've been in these heels all day."
"Sure." I brightened at this, at least I was going to get to be with her even if only to rub her feet that I secretly adored, I never had the nerve to tell her about my foot fetish.
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My attempt at a story.
Things had not been going well. My girlfriend had been distant and it had reached the point where I knew something was wrong, what, I wasn't sure, but something. Then the world came crashing down one day when I awoke to a note in the bathroom, Trish having already left for work. Even though I sensed it was coming, I shook with despair at the written words that were telling me to pack my things and get out of the house. Not only did I not have anywhere to go, a motel perhaps? I didn't want to leave, I wanted to make things right, I loved her.
Immediate thumping deep depression hit me and I decided the only solution was to call in sick and hit the bed; I would deny the moment for as long as possible. As I hid under the covers, cried and felt like a wimp for my distress, I decided that I wasn't going to let her off that easy; she would have to tell me face to face to leave.
I waited, moped, managed to shower and dress, the clock displaying a languid tick-tock march that added to my torment. When I heard the key in the door, my heart jumped in dread in anxiety, the moment had arrived, I had to save my relationship.
The lights were off, but she immediately noticed me sitting on the couch, trying my best to stay still despite my nerves.
"Oh, you're still here." The disappointement in her voice made this even harder.
I got straight to the point. "Please, Trish, can't we try to work this out." I know I sounded pathetic, but I didn't know what to do.
She laughed. I never heard a laugh the echoed with such pain. "Jake, you've got to be kidding. I want you out of here, okay. There's no need to pretend or to take a softer tack, I'm being straight with you. It's over."
My world was collapsing. Trish had moved closer, but was still standing, looking down at me. She was beautiful. Flowing auburn, dressed in her suit and heels, the model of elegance and authority.
"Please...."
"Please what?" she snapped. She was being harsh, I was familiar with this side of her, but still...
"Uh...I don't have anywhere to go."
"That's not my problem." She was impatiently tapping her foot. It was then I realized that I was erotically charged by the moment, her authority, her power over me, I resented it, yet I found it a turn on.
to be continued |
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Let's see where this CM stuff goes. Superiority. I'm comfortable acknowledging a Domme as my superior. Many of us have bosses that are considered "our superior." There a superior athletes, musicians, mathematicians, etc. And this isn't a blanket endorsment of one characteristic as superior, female (though I lean heavily towards Female Superiority in general, but there are exceptions in the category), race, etc. but the knowledge that there are those who have authority and a accept, embrace that notion. I hope I am lucky enough to find "my superior." |
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| Age: 28 |
| London,
United Kingdom |
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