At Your Feet

Here is a short selection written by an admirer of mine, inspired by my lovely peds. I like it so much I have decided to post it here, and have included a picture of my feet as they were when I was reading it myself – enjoy!

“Unbuckle the ankle strap. Take your time, carefully – we’re not going anywhere.”

foot worshipDomina Liza’s legs were crossed, and Her left foot was before my face, and i was nervously trying to unfasten the tiny buckle to loosen the ankle strap of Her stiletto. i was on my knees in a small, private room at a restaurant in London where Mistress was entertaining two girlfriends from outside of the scene who looked on with sincere interest as they ate their salads. It was a private room, and Domina Liza had given instructions that we were not to be disturbed. (“We will be in many places where discretion does not matter. This is not one of them.”).

Domina Liza was patient with me, for She well understood the paradox Her being engendered: the more i was around Her, the more i was exposed to Her, the less at ease i became, the weaker i became; the sexually disorienting effect of being near Her grew more, and not less, intense through repeated contact. And there lay the dilemma and challenge of attempting to belong to Her, how to function for Her and to please Her while also being consumed by the paralyzing, ever-intensifying influence of Her power, beauty and example.

At last i succeeded with the fine strap, and then pulled the shoe away from Her perfect foot, delighting in the seductive sound of Her charcoal stocking brushing against the interior of the stiletto as it was removed. When Her gorgeous, red toes were revealed, She seductively clenched and extended them right in front of my face – i was conscious of their warmth, and sexual aroma.

“Look into my shoe, boy,” Domina Liza said slowly -“look at the impression My perfect toes have made on the insole, the impression and residue of My stockinged foot shaping My insole, and My insole conforming to the feminine contours of My perfect foot. Imagine My stockinged toes perspiring and leaving a deeper and deeper impression – so beautiful and divine . . . My essence, so vital to you . . ”

Indeed it was beautiful – i stared at the impression of my Mistress’s divine foot, and felt an intense surge of passion and lust for it, and for Her.

“Gently place your nose into the toe of My shoe and breathe. Without bending the leather, put Your nose deep into the recess of My shoe and smell the combination My toes. My stocking and the leather – very slowly, very deeply, worship . . ”

And soon i was at sea, lost in those aromas, lost to all things save the only things of real and fundamental meaning . . conscious that Domina Liza’s perfect, warm stockinged foot bobbed gently just a few inches away, waiting to put me further under Her spell, deeper under Her control . . .