At my feet

I have sent a message ordering your presence. You have been at my service for years and know how you should act. At the appointed time, the intercom rings. I open the door of the building and leave my apartment door ajar. I go to the living room and sit on the sofa. I hear you open and close the door and your footsteps in the hallway. You pass by and greet me. "Good evening, sir." I ignore you. You undress and kneel before me looking at the floor and my bare feet that almost touch your face. You know you shouldn't do anything until I order it. "Lie on your back, facing my feet." You do so and I place my feet on your chest. I like feeling your body beneath my feet. I order you to caress them. You know how I like it, gently, one foot with each hand. At times I put one foot on your face and you work on the other with both hands. It is a very pleasant sensation that I make you indulge in for a while, but it is time for something more rewarding. "On your knees," I order. You do so knowing what comes next. "Kiss my foot." I feel your lips on the instep, sole, and toes. I switch to the other foot. As I prolong this moment, you couldn't resist and start to lick. Without my permission! A series of slaps with my feet in response to your boldness. I love this. I usually do it for no reason, purely for pleasure, but this time you have earned it. I enjoy the sound of each slap, and the face you make, getting redder each time, waiting for the next one. The feeling of dominance is absolute. I know you would endure whatever I want, but I have to restrain myself because I could harm you a lot. After the punishment, comes the reward for your attitude of total submission. I order you to lick my feet. After years of service, you know perfectly well what I like. With a glance or by giving you my feet in a specific way, you know what to do and enjoy doing it. You love my feet. You adore them. You are happy, you find meaning in your existence. Your tongue traces circles on the sole of my feet, revels in the arch, goes up and down the instep, and slips between the toes...

I put my whole foot in your mouth and your tongue plays with my toes. I place the other foot on your head and push it against the one inside your mouth. You gag but know that vomiting would be a big mistake. You keep licking for as long as I want. You are insatiable. Finally, I order you to put my shoes on me and I head to the bathroom. He knows the process. I step into the shower and point the stream at my feet. He, from outside and on his knees, soaps them up. Finished, I step out, he dries them and puts on my shoes. I return to the living room with my slave behind. Sitting on the sofa with my feet on a chair, it's time for a good massage with cream.

That's enough, I say. He stands up and dresses. He bids goodbye, "thank you, Sir, good night." Goodbye.

- This story is an authentic recreation of one of the many sessions I have had with my slave over the years.

Dedicated to you, you know who you are.