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Chapter
2
She was getting more
daring herself. During the first week, she was satisfied with making
me jerk off. As she got more into the magazine, her tastes got more
jaded. In spite of her total control over me, and her willingness
to watch me masturbate, she apparently was a little uncomfortable
with female domination. She didn't jump into the "heavy stuff" right
away.
Several days later,
there was an unaddressed, unstampped package in the mailbox which
took up almost the entire box. As soon as I opened the box, the
smell hit me. It smelled like a miniature gymnasium. I didn't have
to open the paper bag to know what the contents were, but I took
a peek anyway. Inside were a pair of old, well-worn Keds, and a
pair of gym socks. My mind conjured up a number of things she would
make me do with these. I got hard just thinking about them.
The sneakers gave me
at least one more clue about her. She wore a woman's 7-and-a-half
size shoe. It wasn't much help. There were probably only a hundred
thousand or so women in the city who fit that description.
My afternoon instructions
were simple. She had me examine the shoes.
"I want you to know
that these are a special gift from me. I hated to part with something
that I've had all summer long."
She waited in silence
and then blurted out impatiently, "You can at least show some appreciation,
boy!"
"Th-thank you, Mistress
Linda," I mumbled.
"That's better," she
said, "From now on, you will thank me for everything I give you,
or do for you."
Returning her attention
to the shoes she said, "Take a good look at them. See where my toes
have been?"
Indeed, there was an
impression of her toes on the front of the sneakers. In fact, on
one of the sneakers, there was the beginning of a hole where the
canvas was being worn through.
"Now look inside and
tell me what you see."
"Keds. They feel good."
She laughed.
"No, you ass, tell me
what it looks like in there."
"Oh! It's white, but
I can see the shape of your foot in here."
"That's better. As I
said, I've won these things all summer, and I haven't washed them
-- ever."
She continued having
me look at the sneakers. As I inspected the soles, I noticed that
the rubber was well- worn in such a way as to indicate an active
woman. These did not look like a pair of sneakers worn by a woman
to do housework, and step out into the store in.
"Do you know what I
am going to make you do with these?" She asked.
I decided to get a little
bold, "I certainly hope you're not going to make me wear them?"
She snorted, "No, silly
boy, you are going to become very intimate with them. Pull that
big wing-back chair up to the window and put on a show for me."
I pushed the chair into
position and had to climb over the arm to get on the seat.
"That's better," she
cooed. "Kneel! I like to see a man on his knees in front of me."
I managed to maneuver
myself into position for her.
"OK," she continued,
"One hand on the sneaker and the other on your penis. I want you
to put the opening of the sneaker to your nose and smell me. Tell
me what I smell like."
I did as I was commanded.
My already rigid penis became harder than steel as I raised her
shoe towards my face in an act of submission. I closed my eyes and
held my breath.
"Go ahead," she urged.
I inhaled. I the fragrance
of many months of her feet entered my sinuses and stimulated every
nerve ending associated with the sense of smell. The sense of smell
was so primitive. There is a direct connection between the nose
and the most basic part of the brain. A smell can touch off a memory
from decades ago. This smell -- her smell would be with me forever.
The events associated with sniffing her sneaker -- the smell of
any woman's foot would bring back strong and vivid memories of this
abasing experience.
I started my narrative,
"Pungent. Strong. Powerful. Feminine. Sweet."
"How does it make you
feel to be sniffing the inside of my cheap sneakers."
I knew what she was
fishing for, and I gave it to her. "I feel honored that you would
give me such a gift and even more happy that you would allow me
to use it in such a way." In the meantime my brain was reminding
me of the total humiliation of the situation. My stomach pulled
in its knot a little tighter, and I felt the slipperiness in my
other hand as precome liberally oozed from my penis.
I was within a stroke
or two of coming when she ordered me to stop. I lowered my arms
to my sides and knelt at attention with penis waving and bouncing
in front of me.
"I want you to turn
around for me," the female voice from the speaker phone ordered.
"Put that butt up high where I can see it."
I put my head on the
back of the chair.
"Now pick up one of
the sneakers and spank yourself with it. I want to see red marks."
I felt awkward reaching
behind me and slapping my ass with her tennis shoe. The "pock" sound
it made every time I hit my ass echoed through the apartment. I
could hear giggling over the phone. I was incapable of really inflicting
an serious damage on myself. Besides the issue of my administering
my own punishment, and a possible subconscious desire not to hurt
myself, I simply couldn't get a good angle on my spanking to deal
any serious blows. Nonetheless, my ass was tingling, and I could
feel the heat rising from it.
"Enough," she finally
cried. "It's time for you to get it off again.
So I was once again
commanded to sniff and jerk. This time she allowed me to come.
-=o=-
My next mail "gift"
arrived the following Monday. I opened it to find two pairs of women's
panties in there. I knew that there would be an explanatory phone
call later on that day.
I took my clothes off
and laid on the bed. Sure enough, at almost exactly 3:30, the phone
rang. "Hello, it's good to see you've been a good boy. It's nice
to see you so naked and waiting for me... Just one more thing. From
now on, you will have an erection for me when I call. A girl shouldn't
have to wait for her boy to have one. Do what you have to, fondle
yourself, jerk off, but don't come. I don't care, as long as you
have a hard- on for me."
Did you get my package?"
"I sure did, Mistress
Linda."
"The blue panties are
for you. As you can see, they're bigger than the pink ones, although
hardly big enough for that hog you've got hanging between your legs.
I bought them especially for you."
"Thank you, Mistress
Linda." I had learned my lesson from having been scolded before.
Linda continued her
instructions. "Put them on now, and pull them down in front so your
cock and balls stick out."
The pink panties are
the ones I wore last Friday while I played with myself while watching
you get it off for me. You can see the stains from my juices. Put
them up to your face. Smell the back where my ass was. Now sniff
the crotch and smell my aroma."
I looked at the panties.
The blue ones were full-sized panties. They didn't look completely
new and I wondered how many times she wore them. The pink ones were
indeed small, indicating a petite woman. I was confused by the two
different sized panties. Based on panties and shoe size I say that
I was dealing with a petite woman here.
As I drew in deep breaths
through the silky fabric, I could smell a faint, musty odor. I realized
that I was smelling something from inside her body; the dried molecules
of juices from the very font of her womanhood. My prick was almost
exploding, and she hadn't even let me touch it yet.
"Stains like that are
tough to get out," she observed. " It's been my experience that
they require a lot of soaking. So I want to see you jam those panties
in your mouth -- crotch first and chew on them. You're not going
to spit them out until you've sucked all my juices out of them."
It wasn't until I had
the panties totally soaked with my saliva that she gave me permission
to masturbate.
"I want a better view.
Stand and do it at the window again. I want you to do it right up
where I can see it."
Once again, I shot gobs
of my stuff onto the window pane.
"That was great. You
may take the panties out of you mouth now. I want you to wash them
out by hand, dry them gently and put them back into the mailbox.
I want you to wear the blue ones all of the time."
She hung up.
I spent the rest of
the day trying to figure out who she could be. I was pretty sure
she didn't work considering she was able to see me in the middle
of the afternoon. Was I dealing with some sex-starved housewife?
Was I to be her entertainment instead of a soap opera or talk show?
At least I had a first
name to work with: Linda. I had no way, of course, of verifying
that and even if I did, a first name wasn't much help. I checked
the mailboxes in the lobby of the apartments across the street.
There were no Lindas listed. There were a few mailboxes with the
first initial "L", but she probably used her husband's name or just
a last name.
I made a methodical
search of the phone book using the names I got from the mailboxes.
No Lindas listed there either. I started watching the entrance way
to the apartments. A couple of interesting looking women came in
and out regularly. I made a fool of myself approaching several of
them and calling out, "Linda" to see if they'd react.
By the end of the third
week, she became completely perverted. Meanwhile I got some more
"mailbox instructions" to go out and buy some items next time I
went grocery shopping. I could tell from her shopping list what
to expect next. She called me one afternoon and told me, "Pull that
big wing-back chair up against the window again. This time, I want
you to sit in it with your feet up on the sill."
"Now I want you to touch
your nipples. That's it, use both hands. Pinch them with your fingers
and roll them around until you get them all pointy and hard."
I fondled myself as
instructed and she continued with her next step. "Take one of those
clothes pins you bought, and clip it on to your left nipple."
I did. The pain bit
me and sent a shiver down my spinal column. It also sent a message
to my penis to stiffen even more.
"OK," she continued,
"Now I want you to clip one on the other side as well."
The painful stimulation
that this clip provided caused my penis to spasm. Tiny drops of
precome pulsed from the tip. I wondered how so much pain in one
part of the body could cause so much pleasure in another.
Linda was not done with
me yet. She wanted me to put on more of a show for her. "Now run
you hands down your thighs ... Grab you balls. Pull on them." She
directed me to touch various parts of my body and caress them.
"OK, now I want you
to kneel in the chair with your ass facing the window. Put your
head in the back of the seat so your butt is in the air."
I obeyed her order and
felt completely foolish in this silly position.
"I want you to wet your
finger, spread apart your cheeks and stick your finger up your ass."
After several more minutes
of this, she had me resume my legs splayed position in the chair.
"Good boy," she complimented
me. "Now take off the clips and rub your nipples briskly with your
palms."
As painful as they were
going on, they felt twice as bad coming off.
I knew she was getting
these ideas from the magazine, but boy, She was learning fast!
Suddenly she issued
me a command to jerk off. "Hurry. Quick. I want to see you come
in less than a minute. You have 58 seconds ... 30 seconds ... 20
... " I made it with 10 seconds to spare.
"Good boy, bye!" she
said hurriedly and hung up. One more piece of information for the
puzzle.
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