Chapter
1
I noticed him as he
gave his lecture on "Plants found in the wetlands" to my sixth-grade
class. It was the way he was looking at me that caught my attention.
He kept staring at my feet. I like men who do that. It generally
means they are submissive. I found out that I was right, but I'm
getting ahead of myself here.
It was a class outing
and it was near the end of the school year. The weather was warm,
and I was dressed accordingly. I felt in one of my white moods,
and was decked out from head to toe in total colorless fashion:
large floppy hat, halter covered by sleveless blouse tied at the
waist, shorts, and sneakers.
Sneakers -- simple white
canvas Keds, and he was staring at them. That had me confused. I've
had men worship my feet before, but this normally happened when
I was barefoot, or when I was wearing sandals. I had to assume that
this man was interested in my shoes. I paid closer attention, and
noticed that he was checking out the feet of all the females, especially
those wearing sneakers, even my students!
I wondered if I could
use this to my advantage. He was cute, and looked like he'd serve
me well. I decided to drop a few hints. After his presentation I
went up to him and asked, "You're a plant expert. Can I ask you
a question about my garden?"
"Certainly, ma'am."
"Ma'am" - I liked the
sound of that -- polite. Yes, I was sure it was part of his professional
training, but training was training, and I was sure I could take
advantage of it.
"What do you know about
fertilization?" I deliberately worded my question to check his reaction.
I looked at the flicker in his eye and caught the hesitation in
his voice.
"W-what do you want
to know ma'am?"
I looked at his name
tag and read his name. "Well, Bob, I have a problem with my plants
they are weak and limp." ("Weak and limp indeed -- well chosen words
to get a male to think of a certain part of his anatomy) I pressed
on after an awkward moment of silence, "I'm used to strong, tall
stalks."
I watched his Adam's
apple bob up and down as he swallowed.
"I could recommend some
fertilizers," he started, but I cut him off.
"Oh no, I want something
natural; completely organic."
He went into an explanation
of composts and other topics and I left him to it for a while. Finally
I said, "All this is so confusing. Why don't I show you mine and
you can show me yours."
He looked at me dumbly
and I continued before he could recover, "I mean, I'll show you
my garden, and you can show me what you know to get it to grow better."
We set up a date for
the following Saturday.
-=o=-
Cleo, my golden retriever,
alerted me to his coming. I watched as his pickup pulled into my
driveway, and called to him as soon as he got out, "Back here!"
I waved him around the
side of the house into my backyard. Cleo went to check him out and
he got the good sniffer seal of approval. Cleo's has some good sense
in that nose of hers. I found that I could generally trust people
she approves.
I normally wore my grubbiest
clothes to do my gardening, but I had something on my mind other
than gardening today. I had on the absolute minimum clothing that
modesty would allow: a yellow halter, the shortest cut-offs I owned,
and a pair of slip-on Keds.
"Hi," I beamed at him,
"It sure is hot today. Do you want some lemonade before we start?"
I had been working out in the sun, and had a sheen of perspiration
all over my body.
He simply nodded and
I led him into the kitchen. I jumped up on a high stool at the counter
and tested my theory. I slipped one shoe half off my foot, let it
dangle from my toes, and crossed my leg over the other. I kicked
this leg up and down letting the sneaker bounce up and down with
the rhythm.
I noticed how his eyes
were rivoted on my foot. I also watched as the bulge in the crotch
of his pants slowly grew. The fish was interested in the bait; all
I had to do was get him to bite, and reel him in. I figured he'd
be mine within the next few minutes.
I decided to test him
on it. i looked him straight in the eye and asked, "What are you
looking at?"
He lowered his eyes
even more and mumbled, "Nothing."
"Bullshit!" I replied,
"You're looking at my sneaker, aren't you?"
Silence.
"Look at me!" I commanded.
He raised his eyes reluctantly
to meet mine.
"Don't lie to me, boy!
I know what you're doing, and furthermore, I know it's getting you
hot."
He apologized timidly,
"I'm sorry. I won't do it again. If you want, I'll leave."
"Leave!" I laughed,
"We've hardly just begun. -- If you like sneakers, then I'm going
to give you sneakers, you'll just have to earn the privilege of
using them."
I almost laughed at
the expression on his face, but kept myself in check. It would have
ruined the mood. I wasn't in one of my playful moods right now.
I hadn't dominated a man in quite a while and I needed to dominate
one now.
I dictated my terms
before he had too long to think about them. "I can give you what
you want -- if -- " I let the "if" hover in the air for a moment
and drove home with my point, " -- if you'll give me what I want."
"What do you want,"
he mumbled dumbly.
My fish was lined up
with the bait. I was ready to set the hook and reel him in.
"I want what every good
woman wants; a good man. One who will listen to her and do as she
says."
He was mesmerized, all
he could do was sit there slack-jawed and nodding. I took it as
assent.
"OK, we don't do anything
further until you get out of those clothes."
It didn't sink in, so
I was more direct, "Get your clothes off, NOW!" I snipped.
He awoke out of his
stupor long enough to undo his shirt and take off his shoes. He
was halfway out of his pants when he asked, "All of them."
"Yes, asshole," I no
longer concealed my scorn, "ALL of them."
In a minute, he was
standing naked before me, and I smiled. It was all down hill from
here.
"Good boy!" I told him.
"Now go put you clothes in the wash room."
As he trotted off to
obey my order, I got Cleo's pinch collar and lead. Cleo got excited
when she saw the lead, and lost all enthusiasm when she got a glimpse
of the collar. We've been through many hours of obedience training
with that collar.
When Bob returned, I
pointed to a spot on the floor, and ordered, "Kneel here, you worthless
wimp."
I reached forward and
put the collar over his neck. I gave it a little tug and the "teeth"
dug in. No harm done, just enough pain to let him know who's boss.
"Heel," I commanded
as I snapped the lead on and started to walk off. He followed obediently
like a puppy.
One of the tough things
about being a dominatrix is keeping ahead of your submissive. I
had to direct all the action, and decide what would happen to him
next. I knew I had his submission, but I wanted his total surrender.
I would use his fetish as the means to his domination.
-=o=-
I led him to the bedroom
with Cleo following and sniffing at his rear end as he crawled on
all fours beside me.
I pointed to a bag on
the bed. "Open it!" I commanded. Inside were a pair of women's size
12 sneakers I bought at a discount store. They were a kind that
I would never wear because they weren't very comfortable, especially
if they were worn for quite a while. I imagined that they would
even be more uncomfortable if they were a size or two too small,
which is exactly what they were on Bob.
"Go ahead, lace them
up." I had him put the sneakers in his lap to do this task. "The
bottom lace is on the outside, sweetie." I said sarcasticly.
He completed his chore
and looked at me not know what to do next. I snapped at him, "Put
them on you idiot ... and lace them up ... TIGHTLY."
He put on the light
blue sneakers and I could see how his toes were bunched up inside.
It must have been agony. When I thought how much suffering women
go through with their shoes to please men, I thought the act was
justifiable and I laughed silently.
I sat back comfortably
in a winged back chair and ordered him, "Kiss my toes."
I smiled as I watched
his butt raise and head lower as he moved his face to the toes of
my sneakers. Cleo laid down in a corner across the room to watch
the show. She had seen several men subjegated in this room since
she was a puppy.
"Up," I said, tugging
on his lead, "on your knees." I directed him to a kneeling position.
I crossed my leg and wiggled my foot. "Take it off ... but only
use your teeth."
As he attempted that
task, I decided to lecture him. "As a teacher I see what's going
on in schools. Girls are still treated as second-class citizens.
I do my part for sure to see that this trend is reversed. I held
a 'discrimination day' where I had the boys in charge in the morning,
and the girls in charge in the afternoon. It was very enlightening."
"I look after my girls
to make sure they can stand up on their own, but I can't be with
them all the time."
By now he had managed
to tug the sneaker off my foot. I crossed my legs the other way
and just nodded. He went to work.
"I don't think it's
fair. I was not treated fairly when I was a girl, and maybe that's
why I dominate men now. I was teased unmercifully by the boys when
I was growing up, and even as a teenager. Well, now it's payback
time."
He had managed the other
sneaker by now.
"Ahhhh," I sighed, "I
needed that. My feet are so hot and sweaty. Do be a dear and do
something about that."
I smiled as he instinctively
bent forward to lick my toes. It felt so good!
Meanwhile I reached
down and retrieved one of my sneakers.
"Keep working," I ordered
him.
I held the sneaker by
the toes and waved the opening back and forth under his nose, wafting
my sweaty order for him to inhale. I watched as his penis bobbed
up and down in a dance of its own.
The smell must have
had an aphrodesiac effect. It was going right from his olfactory
center to the center of his brain. He licked and nibbled at my toes
in a frenzy, slobbering like Cleo does when I give her a special
treat.
By now his penis was
no longer bobbing, it was rigid. It was stiff, plump and red. The
head was pulsing slightly with the beat of his heart. Each vein
was fully distended as his cock continued to fill with blood.
From the pee hole, a
continuous stream of clear, viscous pre-come was oozing it's way
towards the floor.
He had it bad and I
loved it. I was controlling him with the most minimal expenditure
of energy: just holding a sneaker and waving it back on forth. This
was going to be so easy. I never worked with a man who had such
a strong attachment to his fetish.
I felt his tongue wiggling
between my toes and I started to melt. I thought of the closet full
of sneakers I owned. Hell, compared to other fetish gear, they were
cheap. I could afford two dozen pairs just for the price of a leather
corset. Sneaker subs were cheap to keep.
I allowed him and directed
him in the proper licking and cleaning of my feet. Buy the time
he was done, I was wet and ready for more action. He had a glazed
look on his face, and I doubted that he was totally in touch with
reality. His entire universe was my feet, and the scent of my well-worn
sneakers.
-=o=-
It was time to move
him on to more intense training. I made him fetch every one of my
sneakers (I had six pair in the closet alone) and had him lay them
out in a line in front of me.
One by one, I had him
handle them and bring them to me for display. I had him pretend
that he was a shoe salesman, and had him try each pair on my naked
foot. I had him sit on his heels and used his lap as a the stool
to place my foot as he laced each pair up.
I'd get up and walk
around in them, stop in front of the mirror, get up on one toe and
turn to the side and look at them from all sides. He looked at them
from all sides too! I modeled each pair for him and asked his opinion
on how they looked.
After the fashion show,
I told him to stand up and fetch a chair from the kitchen. I sent
him on his way with a swat to his rear end.
"Put it in front of
the mirror, facing it." I commanded him as he returned. I sat down.
"Get over my lap, boy!" I smiled as I watched his discomfort. He
knew what was coming and I loved the anticipation.
He tentatively and meekly
laid over my lap. "Give me the slip-on," I ordered him. He stretched
out and handed me the sneaker.
He steadied himself
with his left arm as I pulled his right arm behind his back. I closed
my legs around his penis trapping it against the crotch of my denim
shorts.
I grasped the sneaker
by the back, pulled my arm back, and brought it down hard!
POCK! The sneaker made
the funniest sound. Bob yelped, and I smiled. I looked at the bright
pink mark left by the sole on his otherwise lilly-white behind.
POCK, "OW!"
"Shut up, I haven't
even started yet! How about you count them out as I deliver them."
POCK! "One."
"That's better. You
wanted sneakers, and now you have them."
POCK! "Two"
"You know that bad boys
get what they deserve. You wanted to play with girl's sneakers."
POCK! "Three"
"And now you will. Not
in the way you thought maybe,"
POCK! "Four"
"but in the way *I*
choose to make you play with them."
POCK! "Five"
"By the time I'm done
with you. You will worship both me and my sneakers."
POCK! "Six"
"Oh, this is delicious"
POCK! "Seven"
"I just have to do this
for my friend Gayle."
POCK! "Eight"
"She likes to watch
me discipline little boys."
POCK! "Nine"
"Too bad the school
board won't let me do this to my students."
POCK! "Ten"
"It would be good for
them."
POCK! "E-eleven"
"Especially the boys."
I laughed.
POCK! "Twelve"
"I can just see the
girls spanking the boys this way!"
POCK! "Th-thirteen"
"You're getting nice
an pink there, Bob. You should see it."
POCK! "Four-teen!"
"You can see it! Look
in the mirror. Go ahead! LOOK!"
POCK! "Fifteen!"
"Don't close your eyes.
Look. Watch me spank you."
POCK! "Sixteen."
"That's a good boy.
We're almost done."
POCK! "SEVEN-teen."
"Fuck this shit" I laid
into him as fast as my arm could swing.
POCK, POCK, POCK, POCK,
POCK, POCK, POCK.
He was kicking his legs
frantically by now. He no longer even tried to keep count. It was
impossible to find an area that wasn't pink on his tush. I could
feel the dampness in my crotch, but I could tell if it was his or
mine.
My arm tired, and I
dropped the sneaker. By now Bob was sobbing uncontrollably. I placed
my hand on his butt. It felt so hot!
"Get off," I said quietly.
Seeing his tear streaked face, looking down to his straining penis,
seeing his well-padded buns in the mirror, and his feet crammed
in those ridiculously small sneakers, softened my mood. I had broken
him. He was mine.
"Kneel here," I grabbed
his head and stroked it. "Here, here," I said making soft clucking
sounds. I could feel him heave as he buried his face into my welcoming
breasts.
-=o=-
"Stay there. Don't move."
I stood up and quickly undid the snap on my cut-offs. Within seconds
I was out of my shorts and panties.
I sat back down and
draped both legs over his shoulders, headlocking his face into my
crotch. I rubbed it up and down a few times, and he got the idea
immediately. As soon as his tongue touched my clitoris, I lost it.
I remember flooding, but I don't know for how long. All I can remember
is wave after wave of pleasure rippling through my body.
I came out of my haze
long enough one time to dig the heels of my sneakers into his already
rough and raw butt to urge him on to greater enthusiasm. I had turned
into an instaitiable bitch. I was having the orgasm of my life and
I wanted even more. I didn't care if it killed me. I needed more.
Bob way practically
gasping by the time I regained even minimal control over my body.
In my excitement, I must have squeezed too tightly with my thighs.
I let him loose and he fell at my feet. He was so weak that he could
hardly move, yet even in this condition he made feeble efforts to
lick at my shoes.
I let him rest while
I wondered out to collect our unfinished lemonade. Bob seemed to
need it, and I know I certainly did. I was totally dehydrated, and
I know that I must have lost most of that fluid from my vagina.
I smiled at him and
said, "What to do with you?" He grinned back.
An idea suddenly hit
me. "Bring that chair here!" I had him place it in front of the
wing-back chair. "Sit down!" I tied his hands behind he back of
the chair and secured them to the vertical rungs holding up the
back of the chair. I tied his ankles to the back legs, leaving his
knees flung wide open and his crotch vulnerable to whatever I decided
to do with it.
I took off my sneakers
and took the laces out of one of them. I rethreaded the laces in
just the first set of eyelets, and placed the opening over Bob's
mouth and nose. I tied it off behind his head. He looked so funny
wearing his sneaker mask, but I knew that every breath he took was
one with the sweet smell of my sneaker feet.
I giggled at how ridiculous
he looked. I put my slip-on back on and sat to face him. "Are we
comfortable?" I asked him.
"Mumm-hummph," came
the muffled response through the canvas.
I placed my heels against
his swollen balls and rocked my feet forward, pressing the balls
of my feet into his dripping cockhead. I could feel the slipperiness
of the well-lubricated rubber as I ran it up and down the shaft.
His body tensed under
my ministrations. I had him under my control with just the flick
of a toe. I love having this kind of power over a man. As I brought
him closer to the edge I could hear him sucking and blowing air
through the sneaker on his face. I could actually see it bellow
out and in with his breathing.
He stiffened entirely,
nodded vigorously, crossed his eyes, and came.
I giggled again as I
watched jet after jet of come pulse up in little fountains, squishing
it with the soles of my sneakers. There is nothing like a man coming
at your feet to make a woman feel in control. I pumped him until
the seat was flooded with his come.
"My, my, my, my, my
- what a mess!" I took off my sneakers and leaned them against his
cock. I got up and untied him. Then I told him, "Clean it up ...
with your mouth." Watching him lick his own semen off my sneakers
brought a chill to my spine. I knew I made the right choice.
- Mule: mule@tpe.com
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