10 comments/ 36803 views/ 6 favorites A Toe Out of Line Ch. 01 By: devoted95 The room burst out in laughter. As I tilted my head upward, laughing with the others, I noticed how brightly the room was lit up. It was a stark contrast to how dark it was outside. I was at a house party with my wife, Alexis, in the living room of quite an expansive house that belonged to one of her good friends since high school. Probably her best friend really. Her name was Cynthia, and unfortunately for me I had never been a big fan of her. I had actually attended high school with both my wife and Cynthia, although I never really interacted with either of them until I formally met my wife many years later (a bit after college) and started dating her. Cynthia was the type of preppy, haughty girl that knew she could get away with treating others badly because of how beautiful and popular she was. That was my opinion of her anyway. And the truth was that she was quite attractive, she was a slim 5'9" blonde with hair that seemed to always be perfectly curled. She always had a nice slim figure, despite not exercising much. I had heard a rumor that her mother had actually run in the Olympics for the marathon way back when (mind you she didn't medal, but qualifying for the Olympics is in itself quite a feat), so she probably got her good genes from her. She did swim however, and that was how she met my wife Alexis, although she wasn't nearly as competitive as Alexis was. Ah Alexis...my beautiful wife. I looked over to her, and saw her face lit up with laughter at the last joke I had made. She always liked my jokes. Alexis wasn't quite as tall as Cynthia but she still stood fairly tall for a woman at 5'6" and had a much more toned and sexy body. Alexis was quite the athlete in high school and in college as well. She wasn't the star of her college team like in high school, but swimming for a division 1 team is still something to be proud of. As I looked down her body I took note of how hot she looked tonight. She was wearing a tight black dress, with matching black pumps. Her round but slightly muscular breasts stood out quite a bit as her dressed hugged her flat toned stomach. Her dress was sleeveless, exposing her arms and amazing swimmer's triceps. I know a woman's arms aren't always what come to mind when people think "sexy," but a pair of strong, fit arms really turn my dials. My wife doesn't swim competitively anymore, but she still swims almost daily, keeping her body toned and in amazing shape. I was more of a runner myself, and I actually hit the gym around 3 times a week, so I wasn't doing too badly myself. But still, I was always unsure of if I could actually beat my wife if it came to a wrestling match... Anyhow, as the party continued and I snapped back from my reverie. I noticed my wife looking back at me. I had unconsciously been staring at her breasts the whole time! She gave me naughty smile, and then raised her left eyebrow sexily. It was almost as if she was saying "I know what you want to do to these". I returned her gesture with a faint hearted smile myself, and then turned my head, trying to pay attention to what everyone else in the group was talking about. The conversation had turned to politics, and lo and behold, the person who was going on a rant right now was the ivy-bred, poly sci major, Cynthia. I didn't catch everything she said, but as I listened in all I heard was "...Obama sucks. He's been SUCH a failure in office. Sometimes I just wish I could go up to him and slap some sense into his head." What? I have never been particularly interested in politics, but I did keep up with the news when I could. I knew that Obama had recently received a bit of criticism recently, but a failure? The man may make decisions that some people disagree with, but what president hasn't? The overly harsh criticism towards the leader of our entire country, whom WE voted into office (TWICE mind you), was getting on my nerves. Before I continue, I should first explain that perhaps my biggest pet peeve is when people overstate and exaggerate things, often to the effect of being overly dramatic. It frustrates me to no end when people misuse the word "literally" simply for emphasis for example. The English language is already so limiting in what it allows us to communicate to one another, why misuse those words even more? Anyway, that's a topic for another time. The point is, as soon as I heard her say that overly emphatic statement, I immediately became annoyed and quite irked. Who was she to criticize a man who has worked tirelessly for the good of our country and of the other nations in the world that depend on us? And to say she wants to "slap" sense into him? Seriously? I was getting quite worked up in my head as I processed what she said and how disrespectful she was being, regardless of if her insults were merited. "Well," I started, "I know some of the things he does may not seem like the right thing to do. But he's doing the best job he can. Do you really think you should insult him like that? Do you think YOU could do a better job?" As I finished my statement I replayed the pointed "YOU" I made just a few seconds earlier in my head, and quickly realized how attacking my tone must have sounded. I was attacking her with my words though, I was quite mad, but it hadn't been my intention to let my emotions show in my speech. My heart sank with that lurching sadness as I looked around at the others in the circle in the living room, and as one by one, each face looked at me with both stupor and confusion. I didn't dare turn my head to look at my wife. I knew she would be furious so I avoided making eye contact with her. After a somewhat lengthy silence passed over the room, one that ironically made me feel like the entire room was screaming "did he JUST say that?" Cynthia responded. "Well, I didn't even know you had an idea of what foreign policy meant. Why don't you tell me more about why you think Obama is doing a great job as our president," she said condescendingly, giving me a fake smile that really said "Get ready to be destroyed." "I don't really know much about politics, I admit it. But all I was trying to do was say maybe you should go a bit easier on him. I just wanted to give another opinion since you seemed to be the only one talking." I responded, quickly realizing that I had only dug myself into a deeper hole. My eyes roled upward and I closed them for a brief second as I realized how terribly this was going. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cynthia looking over in the direction I knew my wife was. I was still gravely fearful of my wife's response to my gauche jab at her best friend, in her best friend's own living room. My heart was pounding, and before Cynthia could respond, I quickly tried to cut my losses. "You know what, you're right," I said, holding my hands up in surrender, "I don't really know what I'm talking about." I gave a nervous chuckle. "I'll just go over there and get some more snacks," I said as I stood up and walked over to Cynthia's kitchen, which I had just pointed to. As I did so, not a single person sitting in the group took their eyes off me. I continued to walk away with my back turned to them and I could almost feel their eyes staring at my back, as if laser beams were being drilled in, but I fought the urge to look back and check. When I got to Cynthia's kitchen, I looked around at the array of snacks she had out. There were tortilla chips with salsa, some carrots, a wide variety of fruits, and another dish I couldn't identify. As I slowly picked out some grapes and an orange slice, I replayed the recent events in my head, basking in regret. All of a sudden I felt someone brush up from behind me and I instantly realized the sharp rapid clicks of high heels on the hardwood just then must have been my wife. "Outside. Next to the car. Now," was all she whispered into my ear, as she continued to walk past me and out of the kitchen. Her stern voice had somehow transformed all of the feelings of regret I had into a nervous fear, and I immediately threw the food I had just gotten into the trash and discreetly let myself out the front door. I stood next to our black Lexus (Alexis was quite the successful corporate executive) on the side of the street opposite Cynthia's house (almost like mansion really), and luckily there were no houses on that side of the street, allowing me to stand behind the car and be out of any passerby's vision, except for my head of course. I waited for about 5 minutes, although as most people can relate, 5 minutes of standing around waiting for something you are very nervous to face can feel like an eternity. But after 5 minutes of gut wrenching and heart pounding, wondering what my wife had in store for me after what I had done, I heard the click-clack of my wife's heels against the pavement. As the sound of her shoes against the asphalt grew louder and louder I felt my heart beating louder and louder as well, almost as if in sync. Until finally my wife came walked around our Lexus to come face to face with me. "Loo-" I started, but before I could finish even that first syllable I found myself stopped midway, my left hand instinctively raised up to my left cheek. As I processed the fact that my head was tilted to the right in recoil and what had just happened, I raised my face back up. "SMACK" This time because of the silence, and partly because I wasn't taken completely by surprise, I could hear the sound of her palm against my cheek reverberate through my ears. It felt so loud that the entire street might have heard the impact of her slap on my cheek. My right hand now instinctively grasped my right cheek, as my head was tilted to the left this time, my body in shock. Now don't get me wrong, my wife has slapped me MANY times in the past. We have a bit of a femdom marriage, you see. But I had always seen most of her slaps coming, and they had never been so painful. Or was it because I wasn't prepared that they felt so painful? Nevertheless I could still feel the burning sensation of the sting on the left side of my cheek as my mind preoccupied itself with the more recent injury on my right. I took a bit more time to readjust myself this time, rubbing my hands against my cheeks in an attempt to soothe myself, but as I did, my wife's right index finger pointed directly down. In a voice as flat as her finger was straight, she ordered, "On your knees." She didn't say "now," but in my head I somehow finished it for her, as I bent my knees and lowered myself in submission. I continued trying to soothe my pain with light rubbing. However, after only a brief second, I felt her fingers grasp my hair roughly and tilt my head backward, so that I was looking up at her. "Oh no, not again," was my only thought as I felt the pain shoot up on the top of my head momentarily, where she had pulled my hair back along with my head. Luckily the pain was quite brief, and not nearly as bad as the two slaps I had just received. But as my head was tilted up I made eye contact with my wife for the first time since my comments (when she first came up to the Lexus I had been looking down), and I could see in her face all the intense emotions she had. Her eyes looked penetrating, with a look of contained, flat anger, almost saying "I can't believe you just did that." I felt a bit of relief, knowing my wife was not blazing in anger but was rather more annoyed. But nonetheless her eyes told me that I was going to be taught a lesson. That I was going to be punished for my bad behavior. My eyes that were wide with fear initially had turned into eyes of amaze and wonder, as I studied the nooks and crannies of her face. Her nose, big and perfectly shaped, that would be looking down on me condescendingly soon, and her amazing jawline, narrow and an emblem of her fitness. As I looked up and thought about how much I adored my wife, my penis decided to show how much it appreciated her too. I noticed my wife's eyes flicker down ever so briefly, and I knew that she had noticed it too. But just as soon as that happened I saw her swing her left hand back (her right hand still holding my hair), and as I briefly prepared myself for the pain that was about to come, she angrily ordered "move your hands." I quickly obeyed, and just as quickly felt her wrath. My wife hadn't loosened her grip on my hair, so as her hand made contact with my cheek I could feel my entire face wrench in pain. My cheek twisted to the left, in a recoiling fashion that didn't extend to the upper part of my head that was being gripped tightly in place. I felt the top of my head shoot out in pain as my hair was pulled, and for a few seconds I kept my eyes shut in pain. When I finally opened my eyes I could see my wife still looking directly at me, her eyes glittering with a kind of childlike excitement. She often had this look when she punished me, I guess it was a sign that she was enjoying herself, which in turn made me all the happier to receive her punishment and be subservient to her. "When I tell you to get on your knees, that means you kneel in front of me with your back straight and your hands at your sides," she said, clearly very annoyed. When Alexis had initially trained me she explained this to me, probably once, so she had every right to be unhappy with my performance. However, in the past I had never had a reason to have my hands anywhere but my sides when kneeling, so I had completely forgotten the protocol even existed. I lowered my hands completely to my sides and kept them perfectly straight as I tried to straighten my already straight back, struggling against the tight grip she still held on my hair to perfect my posture. I lowered my eyes as well, and quietly and almost quaveringly said "Yes Mistress. I'm sorry Mistress," addressing her with the term of respect that was expected in the situation. "No." she said flatly, her anger starting to show. I lifted my eyes to look back up at her, fearful of what was coming next. "I don't think you have the privilege to speak anymore," she said calmly, and then tilted my head downward with that painfully tight grip she had on my hair, until my chin was digging into my chest. "You lost that privilege, after what you did back there. Talking like that to Cynthia, in HER house, at HER party? You embarrassed me in there. You should be ashamed of yourself for what you did. No, you WILL be ashamed of yourself." She had raised her voice at this point, and the growing fear in my heart exploded as I knew my wife was starting to vent out all of her anger. But despite what my brain was thinking, my balls seemed to get a bit excited, in anticipation of what they and I both knew was soon to follow. "I know you think you're ashamed right now, but this time I'm going to make sure you never forget this lesson. You always do this. You never respect my friends. I know you think you do, but we both know how much you've always disliked Cynthia, and this isn't the first time it's become embarrassingly obvious." What? This isn't the first time? She made it sound like something like this had happened many times in the past. I genuinely didn't remember anything like that at all. But perhaps, since this was the first time it was in a large public setting, after looking at the expressions on the many other people's faces present, it was also the first time I actually became of aware of how disrespectful I was being. I wanted to say something, to let my wife know that I didn't intend for any of this and I was genuinely sorry. But I knew better than to make even an attempt to speak. This situation had gone beyond that now. "I won't have you being disrespectful to my friends. Especially not in front of others and most of all especially not in front of me. You need to realize that your bad behavior reflects poorly on me. You humiliated me. And I think maybe you need to be shown how that feels, and to be reminded of your place." She said, almost as if she was pondering it. I immediately lifted my head back up, against the force of her hand which had been gripping me so tightly, but for some reason, I felt almost no resistance as she allowed me to look back up at her. I opened my eyes wide, pleading with her non-verbally as I tried to show her with my frowning and sad face how sorry I was. I mouthed the word "sorry" in my desperation, but was quickly met with her head smashing my head down and into my chest, forcing me to flex my abdominals in an attempt to keep my body straight. "NO!" She said again forcefully, clearly getting angry as she always did when she had to tell me to do something more than once. "Not only have you lost the right to speak like a human. You have lost the right to communicate as a human being. Because clearly when you are given that privilege you just end up embarrassing yourself. But more importantly," she paused, "you embarrass ME." I wanted to hang my head in shame, but my head was already being held down forcefully by wife's surprisingly strong arms. I knew I had let my wife down, and I was prepared to face the consequences of my actions. "You need to be reminded of your place. That you're my BITCH. My property. And its my responsibility to train you so that you don't reflect poorly on me in public. So," she said, slowing down the pace of her words, "I think for the rest of the night you're going to show me you know where your place is. No talking. No mouthing of words. Just barking. And whimpering, and begging, and groveling, like the bitch that you are. Do you understand boy?" Alexis, with her hand still tightly grasping my hair, tilted my head up and then back down a few times, forcefully nodding for me. When she let go, I immediately dropped down to my hands and knees. I lowered my head down to her beautiful feet, perfectly encased by her black pumps, and then kissed each of them, a gesture of submission. When my lips made contact with her skin I made sure to savor each kiss, feeling the slight protrusions coming up from her veins, and lightly flicking my tongue along her skin. After I had planted the two reverent kisses on her feet, not having made a sound other than smooching noise of my lips against the skin of her feet, I brought my head back up. I raised my head up to look at her, and as I mentally prepared myself I took note of how beautiful my wife looked. Her hands folded across her chest, just under breasts, and showing off her amazing biceps. It was no wonder to me anymore how her slaps and inflicted so much pain. Her posture was perfectly straight and her head tilted down. Looking down her nose at me, her subservient husband who literally worshipped her, and whom she owned. All of my thoughts (and actions) had made my penis rock hard, and I was quickly reminded of this when I felt that uncomfortable choking feeling in my groin, a feeling that all men have felt at some point in their lives. But sadly, I knew that taking my hands off the ground to unbutton my pants was out of the question. I heard a car pass by, and I realized that on my hands and knees the Lexus blocked any vision of me (unless someone got on the ground and looked underneath to see my hands and knees on the ground). But what every passerby, or even someone from the party looking out from Cynthia's balcony could see, was Alexis. Standing up tall and Looking down, with her arms folded. But at what? Something that had displeased her. That was all I had become. An object that had displeased my wife. And now I was being punished for it. What happened next was something I would never forget. I barked on my hands knees for my wife. "Arf! Arf! Ruff, ruff!," I barked, using the two barking sounds I knew how to make best. Still looking up at her, I noticed my wife's face not change in slightest. But then she moved her lips. A Toe Out of Line Ch. 01 "Louder." Her voice was still so angry that I could feel it almost pierce my heart. Louder? As I replayed what had just happened in my head I realized my voice had been a bit quiet. But it was only because we were alone. And on such a silent street, outside a high-class party where we knew everyone, it had been my instinct to keep our scene private. But Alexis wanted it louder. As I mentally prepared myself for what deep down inside I knew I would eventually have to do, I realized it didn't matter what I thought, or if I disagreed with her. I had made her mad. And now I was being punished by her for it. And regardless of how embarrassed or scared I was of what she had told me to do, I had to do it. Simply because she had told me to. "ARF! ARF! RUFF! RUFF!" I barked, this time much louder. I was almost yelling, and as I did so I felt tears coming to my eyes, realizing how much I had just humiliated myself. If anyone from the party had taken a step outside for any reason, or was on the balcony of Cynthia's house, they would have heard the dog-like sounds I had just made without a doubt. And as they looked over to where they came from, and saw Alexis from over the top of our car, with her arms folded and her head looking down angrily, they would have realized how much those dog-sounds sounded like they came from a human mouth. And anyone that knew Alexis would not be surprised at all by the revelation that would follow. I felt exposed. And so fearful of what others would think. Was this how Alexis had felt? Was this what she meant when she said I needed to be shown how humiliated she felt? The fear in my heart of the unknown, the greatest fear there is, only grew as I thought about how many people could have heard what I just did. If someone had walked out of the house, I would have surely heard it. But what about the balcony? The sound the sliding door makes would have been far too soft for us to hear over here, with all the buzz coming from the party, especially for me with my head near the ground behind the car. But I would have surely been able to hear people on the balcony talking right? Unless they weren't talking. But the only reason why people would come out onto the balcony and not speak was if they had known beforehand what Alexis was going to do to me. As soon as the thought entered my mind I realized I had to have been overthinking it. Alexis wouldn't do that to me, right? Normally I would say no, but with how angry she was with my behavior, an anger that she had clearly been keeping pent up inside her for quite sometime, I had no idea what to expect. Sadly for me, I would never know the truth. I dared not tilt my head to the left to peek a glance at Cynthia's house through the windows of the car. A dog would never do that. And I had stepped out of line one too many times already this night. The fear of the unknown, of whether or not there were people outside of my wife and I that knew of the subservience and debasement I was exhibiting for her in a public space, was a fear that would be left to linger and eat away at me. As I felt naked and exposed, humiliated and debased, and worst of all fearful of what others would think, I realized why I had done all of this. I had done it for my wife. The woman I loved, worshipped, and adored more than anything else in the universe. The woman who truly loved me and also loved to dominate over me and control me, and who knew how much I loved it and loved her. Tears began to fall from eyes as I bent my head downwards toward her legs, brushing my hair against her calves. I wanted more than anything just then to lift my hands up and grasp her amazingly toned and sexy calves, to smother then in kisses and slowly work my up. Up to her muscular and fit thighs, and then up to her crotch. I wanted more than anything to worship her there. To show her how much I adored her and how much I worshipped her and her dominance over me. But I knew I wouldn't be allowed any such thing. I had lost the privilege of showing my wife my adoration for her in the way that she normally liked to have me do so. And so, after barking out loudly for everyone that my wife had decided should hear it to hear, I accepted my place at my wife's feet. As her bitch, her object. Her property. This is what she had wanted to remind me of and this was what I knew I was. And this was how I would behave until she decided otherwise. I slid my head down along her calves, until finally, my mouth was at the top of her feet. The tears that had been rolling down my cheeks had rolled all the way down to the bottom, and all of a sudden, because of the slight shift in angle, a drop fell onto her feet. Immediately, as it fell, I knew what I had to do and stuck my tongue out and carefully licked the tear off, doing so right as the tear hit her foot. I then let out a whimper. And remembering what she had said when I had barked before, I let out another whimper, louder than the first, and then a third one even louder and loud enough for the people who I wasn't sure existed to hypothetically hear clearly. "Good boy." I heard my wife coo softly. Her two simply words of praise were somehow all I needed to forget all the fear and trepidation I had just been feeling. It had all been transformed into an invigorating and glowing happiness. The happiness that I had pleased my owner, that I had made HER happy. I could almost feel the smile of satisfaction I knew my wife was making warm up the back of my head, as I lowered the rest of my mouth further down onto her feet and began to worship them. I started out with two deep French kisses, one for each foot, like I had done before. I flicked my tongue a tiny bit like before as well. But afterwards, I returned my mouth back to her left foot. And this time, instead of a flicker of my tongue, I opened my lips further apart as I smooched my lips to her feet, and let my tongue lick up and down her skin as I made out with the tops of her feet. After I sufficiently licked and kissed her foot, I withdrew my tongue, and slowly closed the gap my mouth was making until it was fully closed. Right at that moment, I pushed my lips ever so slightly down as a kiss and then lifted my mouth up, making a loud puckering sound. The sound I knew my wife loved to hear. I then moved my lips a bit farther down her foot, and then repeated. I made sure to keep the same, slow, careful, erotic pacing of my licks and kissing, I wanted to show my wife how I was doing this out of my love and adoration for her, and that I wasn't trying to be impatient in my worship of her. I continued until I covered every inch of her foot that her pumps left exposed, and was careful not to get any saliva on her shoes, and I even got a bit of her ankle as well. For those of you who have not tried ankle worship, I highly recommend it. It shows that it is not about the foot and the foot fetish you may or may not have, but about pure servitude and submission to your partner. I myself did not initially have a foot fetish. I appreciated pretty feet, but I also appreciated every inch of a woman's body. However, Alexis enjoyed having me worship her feet, and the general sight of seeing me at her feet serving her as a sign of her dominance. After being trained by her, I sort of developed a foot fetish of my own. But only for her, only for my amazing Goddess. As I finished up her left foot, I lifted my head a bit, catching my breath. My worship had taken all of my concentration and had not left me much time to breathe. As I panted I let my tongue hang out of my mouth, panting the same way a dog does. Reminding my Mistress, that I knew my place. That I was her bitch and I knew I was expected to act like it and so I was prepared to be proactive about showing it. After briefly recollecting myself, I brought my head back down, this time on her right foot, and I gave it the most intense adoration and worship with my lips and tongue I knew how. I slipped into subspace, and after I finished I had that feeling after waking up from a nap, where you are unsure of where you are or how much time has passed. I realized that my Mistress would most likely be returning back to the party (which was why I hadn't extended my worship to her shoes), and that her feet would have to be cleaned from the trace amounts of saliva that were left on them. However, given the recent events, I considered that perhaps my Mistress wanted those trace amounts to be there. For others to see, and know that her husband had just spent what felt like an hour licking and kissing her feet, because he wasn't allowed to get up off his hands and knees and kiss anything else. But I wasn't allowed to speak or even make a gesture of verbal communication. How could I ask my Mistress for what she wanted so I wouldn't displease her? Thinking quickly on the spot, I tilted my head slightly to the side, and then brushed it against the tops of her feet. This was how she had trained me to clean up after my worship of her feet, and I made sure to only make a brief contact with her skin, so as to not accidentally clean it too much in case she wanted me to leave it that way. I then lifted my head up and craned my neck to look up at my Mistress. Making big puppy dog eyes, I let out an inquisitive whine, asking my wife whether or not she wanted me to continue. As she looked down on me, her face stoic as ever, I couldn't help but admire her beautiful nose. Again. Somehow, from down here, as I saw her looking down on me with that nose I fell in love with her even more, if that were even possible. I noticed her arms were still folded, her biceps slightly flexed and a painful reminder of the corporal punishment she was always capable of inflicting on me on a whim. But despite all this, she couldn't help but break out a bit of a smile, as she nodded and commanded, "Yes. Clean them for me." I needed no further instructions as I happily lowered my head and tilted my cheek to wipe the lingering saliva off her foot, I swiftly alternated cheek to cheek, and after I had thoroughly dried her left foot, I did the same for the right foot. My foot worship of my Goddess complete, I moved my hands and knees back, and then brought my forehead to the ground. My butt was stuck up high in the air as I tried to imitate the dog's position of submission as best as I could, and I let out two weak whimpers. I waited for my Mistress' response. Hoping she would give me permission to lift my head off the ground and look at her, giving me a chance to admire her beauty once more. Instead however, she seemed to be pondering what to do next, and left me lying on the ground in that sorry position in silence. The buzz from Cynthia's house was still lively as ever, and continued in the background. However, this momentary pause in our scene only lasted long enough for me to notice, and before I knew it I felt the bottom of her shoe on top of my head. She stepped down, pushing my forehead and nose deeper into the ground. She began to twist her foot from side to side, grinding my face into the ground. I knew she must be enjoying the pain she was getting to inflict on me, taking advantage of the perfect position of submission I was giving her. Had we been at home, she would have likely taken a lot more advantage of my ass that was sticking up off the ground, but that's a box of thought that's better left unopened. Thankfully, she only grinded my head down into the ground for a few moments, but as she did so she began to speak. "I'm glad you know your place, bitch. I really enjoyed that." She stopped grinding my head into the ground but kept her shoe on top of my head. "But you know what," she said her voice turning away from the content tone she had before, "I don't think I'm done with you quite yet." As she said that she dragged the bottom of her shoe across my hair as she returned it back to the ground. And then opened the passenger door of the car right next to us. She then took a seat inside, but sideways, keeping her legs out of the car and her body facing out where she could see me. "Up." I quickly obeyed her one word command, as I lifted my head and elbows off the ground into my previous hands and knees position. I hadn't been given permission to turn, so I kept my head facing straight forward, with my wife now on my left. However, out of the corner of my eye I could still see her, and I saw her silently stick her index finger out and curl it back towards her. She was directing me to come towards her, and quite sexily too. I obediently crawled over so that I was kneeling directly in front of her. As she was now sitting down, her knees were bent, and I was able to take in the beauty of her sexy legs. Her shapely calves that extended down to her perfect ankles. These in turn were the bridge to her amazing feet encased by sexy black heels, which I had physically worshipped so intently just moments before. But this treat was only to last for an instant. Almost as if in slow motion, I saw my wife's left foot rise up towards me. Before I could even tell what had happened, my eyes were shut tight and all I saw was darkness. All I felt was something large and VERY forceful hitting me on the right side of my face, followed by the sound of my wife laughing out loud. As I opened my eyes and realized whatever had hit me and knocked me to the ground, I noticed my Wife's left foot hovering over my face. She had crossed her left leg over her right, but before doing so had asked me to come closer so she could kick me in the face while she did it! And now she was just laughing gleefully! Her plan had worked perfectly, and there was no longer any doubt that my wife was a devious sadist. I thought about how lucky we were to have found each other, complimenting one another perfectly, and as I did so I lifted my head and body back up to get into the position on my hands and knees that I had been in before my Wife kicked my head. I knew that this what she expected. And after I recomposed myself I slowly moved my head forward, and kissed the bottom tip of her left shoe, that was dangling in mid air. I then slowly pulled my head back into the same position I held before, and then hung my head down low. As I did this, Alexis' laughter slowly died down, as she realized how I had so reverently kissed the shoe that had kicked me so harshly moments earlier. I saw her lean forward, and then felt her had patting the top of my head "Good boy." She said happily, as she gave me both praise and the condescension of being spoken to like a dog in two words. She ran her fingers through my hair, and ruffled it a bit. "But you know," she said thoughtfully, pulling her hand back, "dogs don't wear clothing." She leaned back and sat up straight. "Strip." She ordered intently, her tone now changing back to that of a harsh commanding officer. I moved back slightly, and then hesitated a bit. I wasn't sure how I was expected to maintain the decorum of being a dog while taking off my clothing. I dared not lift my hands off the ground without getting explicit permission from my Mistress first. I raised my head up at her and looked at her inquisitively, giving her a tiny whine to accompany my big puppy eyes. My wife simply smiled, knowing how much care I was taking in being her bitch, and in showing her how well I knew my place and longed for her forgiveness. "Yes, you may get up off the ground to take off your clothes. But after you finish you're going to get right back on your hands and knees." Nodding my head to show I understood, I lifted my hands off the ground and leaned back into a kneeling position, keeping my head down so that I could only see my Mistress' feet. I wanted to show her I knew that this privilege had been granted only to serve her specific need, and that I wasn't to stop being every bit as subservient as a dog would. I began to unbutton my shirt, but as I did so I realized I would have to stand up afterwards to remove my pants and underwear. When doing so, the protection our Lexus offered us would no longer be available, and any passerby could see me standing up with my shirt off, making motions as though I were removing my pants as well. So I stopped unbuttoning my shirt halfway, and then rose and took my shoes, pants and underwear off first. When I undid my belt and the button of my pants, my penis immediately shot up straight, into its position of least resistance. It no longer had anything blocking or constraining it from pointing anywhere but straight up. When I pulled down my underwear, I noticed my wife's eyes staring intently at my groin. My penis was quite enlarged, standing at full mast, but the bottom of my shirt now covered up the top. I then knelt back down, and then, keeping my head tilted down in submission, slowly finished unbuttoning my shirt. Fully naked now, I placed my shirt in the pile of clothing and shoes to my left, and then neatly folded them together. I placed this neat package in front of me, and got on my hands and knees, fully naked, now truly like an animal. I bowed my head down low, to the ground, and then pushed the package of clothes and shoes forward with my nose, inching it closer to my wife. After I had pushed it forward with my nose sufficiently enough, I let out a small whimper, letting my wife know I was done, and ready to continue my role as her pet and plaything. "Mmm," My wife murmured as she looked happily over my fully naked body. She let out a sigh of happiness. My body was quite toned, and I'm sure it pleased my mistress to see such a strong man on his knees in front of her, knowing she wasn't dominating just any weakling but a very fit and endowed man. And this man was on his knees, actively seeking to please and worship her, to show his adoration for her in any way he could, because he loved her and he loved being her pet. My wife then bent over and picked up the pile of neatly folded clothing and shoes on the ground, and then leaned back and tossed them into the back seat of our car. "You won't be needing those for a while," she said naughtily. Leaving me to think about just how long I would be out here naked like this. It was just then that it hit me that I was outside, in public, on a street, naked. Not just naked, but on my hands and knees, head bent down, in front of my wife sitting on the passenger seat of our car as if it were her throne, with one leg sexily crossed over the other. Luckily there was almost no chance of someone seeing me, unless they already knew I was here. It was pitch black outside, and there were no houses on this side of the street, only a field. Because of the car, and because I was down so low on my hands and knees, there was no way anyone other than my wife could see me, unless they walked all the way over and looked directly to the side. But both my wife and I would easily be able to hear such a thing due to the silence that accompanied this dark night. And I knew that even if seeing me act subservient in front of others were a possibility, my wife would never let me be seen naked in front of others. Not on purpose anyway. But as I felt as slight breeze brush past my skin, I felt truly naked and exposed. And as I felt my penis hug my stomach and dig into my abs because it couldn't go any higher, I realized that this must have been the same way dogs felt when they got an erection. My head still looking down as I kneeled on my hands and knees before my wife, I truly felt like I was at her mercy, that I was her object and plaything, to do with as she wished. But just then I felt the tip of her left shoe, the one that she had been dangling so sexily in front, touch the bottom of my chin. She then tilted it up, bringing my chin and head up with it as I looked up at her face. I noticed now that she had picked up her Coach bag from inside of the car, and was clutching it lightly on her lap. I wondered what she had in there that was so important, but I knew I would be finding out soon enough. A Toe Out of Line Ch. 01 As we made eye contact I saw that evil look in her eyes that told me that she wasn't finished with me just yet. The tip of her shoe dug into underside of my chin as she lifted my head up even further, craning my neck up. I kept my eyes intently on my Mistress face, looking to her for any further instruction. But as my wife pulled her shoe back, her left leg comfortably crossed over her right again, her eyes were no longer looking at mine. Her eyes were now directed a bit lower, directly at my now completely visible penis, as rock hard as steel and very engorged. As she continued to study my penis I realized she must have been taking note of all the precum that had been dripping out, which was now all stuck to my abs. Because of the angle my torso made when I was on my hands and knees, my penis was digging into my own belly. I hadn't been given permission to move so I couldn't see it for myself. But as I imagined myself butt naked, on my hands and knees, with my penis hard and wet and sticking into my stomach like a horny little dog, and my wife inspecting my meticulously with her legs crossed sexily wearing her black pumps and matching black dress, her eyes staring intently and critically, I felt my mouth open slightly ajar. And as I did so I felt a rising level of saliva in my mouth that I didn't even notice had been building up until it started rolling over my lips and dripping out of my mouth. Just as my penis had a white slimy liquid dripping out from its mouth, I too had a white slimy liquid escaping from my mouth. When my wife noticed what I was doing, she just let out a heartfelt chuckle. Just like a dog, and just like my penis, I was drooling. Neither my penis nor I knew what was coming up next, but what we did know was that we would love every second of it. And in anticipation, neither I nor my penis could control ourselves, frothing at the very thought that we were truly at our Owner's mercy. I was drooling in front of my wife, debasing myself in front of her to show her how grateful I was to be able to serve her like I do. To have that privilege of being allowed to worship her. Her. My Mistress. My Owner. My Goddess. My wife. And I was her bitch. Her slave. Her property. I belonged to her. To be continued...