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The Natural

By: adoration



Amanda Frobisher swung her Bentley Arnage into the long, leafy drive that led to her spacious mansion, set on acres of rolling land in one of the most affluent parts of Long Island.

It had been a long day of signing forms in a Manhattan lawyer's offices to take control of her late brother's estate, but now it was all over she was many millions of dollars wealthier, although the main thing on her mind was a long, refreshing gin and tonic.

That, and her young nephew, her brother's boy who was now her legal ward. He was such a handful, a moody, but handsome lad, with almost girlishly-long jet-black hair, dark eyelashes, flashing brown eyes, and a marvellously toned young body.

But Amanda was aware that the boy, 18 but in her eyes still a "boy", had been casting increasingly lustful glances not only at herself – after all, she was still an extremely attractive and well-built 40-year-old - but also her daughter, Karla, aged 18, and Karla's friend, Lucy, who was staying for the long summer break.

Lucy was almost a mirror image of Karla – both girls were busty brunettes, with superbly-muscled thighs and calves, and high, gym-toned buttocks. And the lad had been eyeing them with the sort of look that only a youngster with sex on the brain can give nubile teenagers.

Amanda sighed, as she eased the Bentley through the electronically-operated gates and aimed it towards the large house. If only the boy had behaved himself, then she could relax and enjoy a long, palate-cleansing drink. But if not ….

Once inside, Amanda Frobisher poured herself a slug of Queen Victoria Bombay gin, added ice, tonic, a twist of lime, then stepped out of her outrageously expensive Italian black dress, which left her clad only in a satin bra and panties, and Louboutin high heels.

She walked slowly out to the poolside patio, where she found her daughter and her friend, laying back sunning themselves on recliners. They were wearing skimpy little, wet-look bikinis.

In front of them, wearing only a gleaming posing pouch, was the boy, his body glistening with perspiration as he performed push-ups on a large beach towel arranged in front of where the two teenagers lay watching him.

To many, such a display would have been bizarre, to say the least, but Mrs Frobisher had no qualms about displaying her lovely, full-breasted figure, with her strong legs and brilliantly sculpted buttocks in front of the lad. Nor did she object to the girls wearing skimpy bikinis in front of him, either. They were gorgeous young girls and gorgeous young girls have a right to flaunt their fine figures in front of men – it taught them to appreciate the sight of feminine beauty, Mrs Frobisher knew.

To many, his apparel would also have been bizarre, but Mrs Frobisher liked the way the tiny satin pouch bunched the lad's "equipment". Mrs Frobisher was well aware that it served as a humiliation device, especially since the colour was pink, with little white frilled edging it added to that humiliation. It also provided her with an easy-to-spot check on whether he was aroused, as the satin clung tautly to his manhood. And that manhood, she knew, was fully shaved, including his pubic bone and his balls. Mrs Frobisher liked men – or boys – that way.

"And what," said Mrs Frobisher, as she placed her gin and tonic on a glass topped table and settled in a chair, crossing her shapely legs, "do we have here? Don't tell me the boy has been misbehaving again?"

"Sorry, mom," said Karla, adopting what Amanda Frobisher knew very well was a mock look of disappointment, "but he was really, really disgusting this afternoon, so we've made him work out in front of us as a starter before you decide on his real punishment."

The brown-haired beauty smiled at her daughter, and took another sip of the Bombay gin. "All right," she said, in a rather resigned tone, "tell me the worst."

Then, looking down at the still sweating and sit-up performing boy, she snapped: "On your feet boy and stand to attention, this pertains to you!"

The magnificently-built but slightly gasping youth sighed with relief at the end of his physical exertions, and stood, hands by his side, his eyes darting from the lovely bikini-clad girls to Mrs Frobisher in her mouth-watering lingerie.

"And while we're all listening to what you've been up to, you may as well remove that pouch – I've a feeling you won't be needing it any more!" she commanded the youth.

With a look at the girls, then back at his aunt, the boy appeared for a fleeting moment defiant, but then, sensing the older woman's tone of voice, he peeled the pouch from his crotch and stood nude before the female trio.

Mrs Frobisher noticed that despite the boy's obvious discomfort, his penis was standing out thickly in semi-erection, its shaft and heavy scrotal sac gleaming in the strong sun. She approved, then looked at her daughter, and nodded.

Karla grinned a wicked grin, took a sip from her orange juice, and started: "Well, you know you said we could go riding, mom, while you were in Manhattan? When we got back, we ordered boy here to hose down the horses and groom them while we changed."

"Yes," said Mrs Frobisher, "and he didn't do it properly? Or he wasn't dressed in his posing pouch, as per my instructions?"

"Oh no, mommy," said Karla. "He did it OK, I guess, but after Lucy and I had showered, well we were messing around in my room, a pretend pillow fight, and I heard a sort of groan at the door, or a grunt."

Mrs Frobisher leaned forward, her lovely large globes threatening to fall from their gleaming satin cups. "And?" she almost whispered.

"Well," said Karla, warming to her tale, "I sprinted to the door and yanked it open and there was this filthy slut, on his knees, with his hand on his you-know-what, and it was dripping that stuff from it."

"Pre-cum?" asked Mrs Frobisher, her voice relishing the term as she put it to her daughter.

"That's it, mommy, pre-cum, whatever – it was disgusting," said the girl, pulling a face.

Mrs Frobisher glanced at the sweating lad, then looked at the thick head of his penis. There, at the foreskin lips, she could see a blob of moisture seeping from the cockhead.

"Wipe that disgusting muck from your penis, boy," she almost barked at him.

The boy did as he was told, holding his now pre-cum-smeared palm out towards his aunt.

"Don't you dare wipe it on your thigh, boy," said Mrs Frobisher, menacingly. "Lick it!"

The boy gave a sort of shudder, but complied.

Then Mrs Frobisher addressed Karla's friend. "And tell me, Lucy, is that what happened? This isn't a hoax just to get the lad in trouble, is it?"

Lucy shook her head vigorously. "Certainly not, Mrs Frobisher – I saw him, his willy was hard and he'd been stroking it while perving on us. He was all, er, wet, sorta?"

"Aroused?" prompted Mrs Frobisher, helping the girl out.

"Correct," both girls chorused.

Mrs Frobisher felt the damp sweat running between her heaving breasts. This was all working out so perfectly.

She sipped again on her drink, adjusted her position in the chair slightly, feeling the oozing warmth at her crotch, then held out her glass to the naked, still semi-erect boy.

"Righto, lad," she snapped, "fetch me another gin and tonic and while you're doing that you'd better come up with a good excuse for your disgusting behaviour."

The lad's face reddened, but he took the glass and dashed into the house.

Mrs Frobisher looked at her daughter. "And while he's getting me my drink, you can go and fetch me my Scot's tawse, Karla, dear," she instructed the 18-year-old. "You know where I keep it."

"Why mommy, you're not going to wait to hear his side of the story?" asked the girl.

"Don't be silly, darling," laughed the mature beauty, "it doesn't really matter what he says, does it? After all, it's two women against one male. So it's pretty obvious who I'm going to believe, isn't it?"

With a whoop of laughter, Karla Frobisher dashed away to do her mother's bidding, and she was back with the evil-looking implement before the boy emerged with the gin and tonic.

Mrs Frobisher fingered the split-ended tool of torture as the lad placed her drink on the table. She saw his eyes look at the leather, as if they had been glued to it.

He stepped back and resumed his stance, his penis now noticeably less hard than before.

"Explain, boy," snapped the 40-year-old, "and make it good!"

The lad started his explanation, his eyes barely straying from the foot-long item of discipline.

"Well, aunty, you see aunty," he stammered, only to be snapped at by Amanda Frobisher.

"Out with it, child, we haven't got all day," snarled the Long Island socialite, although she knew well that she and the girls had all of the day that was left.

"I was walking past Karla's room, aunty," explained the lad, "when I saw the lace was undone on my sneaker, so I knelt down to re-tie it. And then Karla opened the door, and saw that my prick was sticking up out of the top band of the posing pouch."

"Penis, boy," murmured Mrs Frobisher, "no filthy language, if you please."

"That's a crock of shit, mommy," Karla almost shrieked.

"Yeah," agreed her friend, "since when can you tie sneaker laces up while you're wanking with one hand!"

"Lucy, please," said Mrs Frobisher, although with a smile on her face. "Masturbating, stroking, even – but not 'wanking'."

The girls grinned and then glared at the lad. His face was lowered. He knew he was in for it, the way Mrs Frobisher was threading the tawse through her fingers told him that.

"Sorry, aunty, it won't happen again," the boy spoke in a whisper.

Mrs Frobisher's hand fell from the split-ended tawse and for a fleeting moment traced over her panty gusset. It was, as she knew very well, sopping wet.

"Oh, my dear boy," she said, in a hushed tone, leaning towards him, "that's the truest thing you've said today!"

The lovely brunette sipped on her refreshed gin, then settled back in her chair and crossed her shapely thighs, allowing the lad a tantalising glimpse of the shiny satin stretched sensuously across her pubes.

"Well, it goes without saying that you have to be punished, boy," she said, quietly. "First by me, naturally, for abusing the hospitality I have been showing you since you became my ward. And second, of course, by the girls here for your disgustingly perverted snooping on them."

Then a thought occurred to Mrs Frobisher. "And speaking of snooping, were you girls dressed? You said you'd been showering."

The girls grinned at each other, and then Karla informed her mother: "We were buck naked, mommy. And I bet he got a good fuckin' look!"

Mrs Frobisher tut-tutted in mock anger. "Really, Karla, such language. Still, I see what you mean."

Then she returned her attention to the boy.

"Right, boy, we'll start with the tawse," she informed her victim. "It's 15 strokes for snooping on the young ladies, and another 15 for stroking your penis while spying on them."

Then, almost with a bound, Mrs Frobisher was on her feet and indicating to the naked lad to place his hands on the back of the chair and present his buttocks for the tawse.

The boy did as bidden with such speed it was obvious that he had obeyed such an instruction from his aunt before.

Mrs Frobisher stepped over to one side of the suntanned youth, and then looked at the eagerly watching audience.

"Girls," she announced, "I think it's a good idea if we have boy here in the same state as he was when he got into this predicament. Do you think you can make him 'aroused' as it were? Can you do that for me?"

The girls whooped with delight and quickly climbed from their recliners to stand on each side of the boy. Lucy placed a hand on the lad's abdomen, then slid it down until she was cupping his scrotum.

Karla lightly placed the thumb and forefinger of her left hand – she was on the boy's left side – on the sides of his shaft and began to stroke him, slowly, but firmly.

The about-to-be-whipped boy let out a low groan as the two 18-year-olds worked on his genitals, then Mrs Frobisher laid the tawse lightly on his buttocks and whispered: "Count them and thank me, boy!"

Gently she tapped him on his splayed cheeks, then the leather whipped down with a sharp crack.

"One, thank-you aunty," came the boy's low murmur, as the girls continued to work on his cock and balls.

Steadily, with no rush, the brassiered and pantied woman worked on the boy's buttocks. At first his responses were measured, until after the seventh stroke he let out a hiss of pain. "Owwwww, seven, thank-you aunty," was his anguished reply.

The next stroke produced a whimper, then an "Aaargh", before he managed to intone "Eight, thank-you aunty".

Mrs Frobisher was pleased, and after that eighth stroke she dragged out the boy's discipline session by taking a draught from her long glass of gin and tonic. Then she resumed her work, her body gleaming with a light sheen of perspiration as she flogged.

Finally, after 15 strokes, the Long Island socialite decided to allow the lad a pause, to let him feel the burning building in his bronzed buttocks, not striped where the martinet had done its work.

Sipping again on her gin, Mrs Frobisher surveyed his posterior and announced: "Right, girls, for the last 15 strokes, I think you can change places. Lucy, stroke his penis, Karla, take his scrotum in hand."

The girls maintained their places, Karla's left hand now cupping the semen-heavy ball sac, while her friend placed the thumb and forefinger of her right hand on the boy's surprisingly still-thick cock.

Mrs Frobisher switched the tawse to her other hand for the next 15-stroke delivery. The first blow – his 16th – brought an immediate announcement from the lad that she was attacking his burning flesh with renewed vigor.

"Yeaaaargh!" was the sound that escaped from his lips, before the compulsory "Thank-you aunty" and the number of the stroke.

The sound that echoed around the swimming pool and its precincts did not bother Mrs Frobisher in the slightest. The mansion was set well away from the two adjoining properties, the lad's shouts would go unnoticed, she knew.

Finally, the youth's ordeal was at an end, and Mrs Frobisher slapped the tawse down on the table top with a satisfying "Thwaaaack" and finished her second drink.

"Stand up straight, stop snivelling and display yourself, boy," she ordered him, and as the naked lad obeyed, Mrs Frobisher noticed with intense pleasure that his cock was, if not pointing towards his chin, at least nicely thick and almost fully erect.

Resuming her place on her chair, Mrs Frobisher smiled up at the lad, only too well aware that she had promised the girls a share in his punishment. She saw by the look on his face that he was dreading more flagellation.

Then she spoke – and allayed his fears.

"Now, boy, it's the girls' turn. You behaved disgracefully towards them, so you must apologise," she told him.

"Yes, aunty, I'm sorry Karla, sorry, Lucy," he said, feeling the fires burning in his buttocks.

"Oh no, my dear little slut," said Mrs Frobisher, "just a word or two of 'Sorry' doesn't cut it. You must apologise properly. Now it's time for the ass worship."

The words "ass worship" were almost spat out of the busty beauty's mouth, and they seemed to act like a whip on the lad's body.

"Ass worship, aunty?" he stammered, and his aunt put up her hand imperiously.

"Yes, boy," she snapped at him. "And don't worry – if you've never done it before, I'll be standing over you with the instructions. And with the tawse boy, just so you get it right!"

The lad's face fell, then Mrs Frobisher stood, picked up the implement of correction once more, and beckoned to Lucy.

"We're sticklers for correct behaviour here, Lucy," announced the older woman, "so it's guests first. Now, my dear, please be so kind as to remove your bikini bottom and adopt the same position against my chair as boy here did for his whipping."

Lucy grinned a cat that's licked the cream grin, stood, pulled off her tiny bikini bottom to reveal a dark little sprout of brown pubic hair on her mound, and lush, thick, aroused labia. Then she stepped to the chair, arranged the towel that the boy had been doing his push-ups on, and stood on it, feet wide apart.

Mrs Frobisher looked with interest at the girl's dark brown anal whorl, and her hairless pussy, the lips thick and moist, gleaming, awaiting worship.

"On your knees, boy," she snarled at the now totally erect lad, and with thick prick swaying around in front of him, the youth knelt behind Lucy's glorious ass.

Mrs Frobisher laid the tips of the two-pronged tawse on the boy's gleaming strong upper back, then leaned over, placing her mouth by his ear and whispered: "Worship, boy, worship!"

As she did so, Mrs Frobisher was acutely aware of the delicious feminine aroma exuding from the 18-year-old's pussy. For the boy, she knew, the pussy perfume would be even stronger.

The lad's tongue poked out at his aunt's instruction "Buttocks first, lick 'em!" he began to lave at the sun-browned flesh of Lucy's glorious backside.

After a while, Mrs Frobisher decided it was time to move on. "Now the anus, boy, lick it softly, then harder, then quicker – go!"

The boy, she decided, was a natural, obeying her instructions to the letter, before she allowed him further delight. "Deeper, over her cunt, between her labia, arouse her boy, arouse her!"

Karla giggled and said "Language, mummy, language!" but Mrs Frobisher snapped at her daughter.

"Shut up, darling, mommy's in charge of something," she told the girl.

The ministrations of mouth-on-minge soon had Lucy moaning, then sobbing, and finally, to Mrs Frobisher's delight, she shuddered to a buttock-quivering climax.

As the girl calmed, the boy did not stop his work, but now pressed his mouth eagerly over her buttocks, which clenched and unclenched as her orgasm subsided.

Mrs Frobisher yanked on the boy's hair, dragging him to his feet, where he displayed a rock-hard erection, the glistening tip laid bare by the fact that his foreskin had pulled partly away from the hood of cock to reveal a pre-cum oozing head.

"And now it's your turn, my darling daughter," smiled Mrs Frobisher, and Karla removed her bikini bottom to reveal a semi-shaved snatch.

Taking Lucy's place, feet wide on the towel, hands gripping the chair, crotch lewdly displayed, Karla shouted: "Get him back to work, mom, I'm hot to trot!"

Mrs Frobisher smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm, and nodded to the penis-jutting youth to resume his place of worship. The lad was equally enthusiastic and before the woman could issue instructions, her nephew was licking and kissing away at his cousin's backside.

As with Lucy, the boy worked away patiently, but steadily, and when he had switched his attentions from the girl's anus, then deeper down her crotch towards her clitoris, the teenager reached behind her and grabbed his head, forcing it harder against her lovely body.

"Tongue me, slut, tongue me, get your nose in that ass, lick me, bring me off or I'll get mom to whip you again!" she panted, and the lad slaved away to do her bidding.

As she saw her daughter banging her buttocks back into the lad's face for more pussy purchase on his mouth and tongue, Mrs Frobisher slipped her by now sodden panties from her pussy. She was most definitely not going to be left out of this little party!

Karla came with a shouted outburst, and while she calmed down, Mrs Frobisher allowed the boy, sporting a massive hard-on, to stand and rest for a moment. When the 18-year-old was back to her senses, the 40-year-old took her place.

Amanda Frobisher thrilled at the first delicate traceries on her buttocks as the boy did his work. Instructions now were no longer necessary, the boy knew his place and knew what he had to do with his tongue and lips and in what order.


The Natural



note to readers:  please don't waste your time reading this story if your not into femdom and fetish.  It's not written for you.

*

After finding out what was missing in her life, Lisa doesn't waste anytime filling the void. Her natural instinctive abilities as a dominant women are out pictured in this tale of realization and self discovery.

Chapter 1

I remember the first time I was a witness to an act of female domination. I was in college and I was staying over night at my friend's house. Her name was Sandra. I was nineteen at the time, and the only thing we ever seemed to talk about was boys. 

Anyway, it was late in the evening. Sandra and I were already in bed, and her parents were still awake, and having quite the rowel. Things eventually quieted down, when I decided to get up and go to the washroom. I could hear conversation coming from the master bedroom which was across the hall from the bathroom. As I tip toed closer to the bathroom, I thought I was hearing things. 

"I want you to lick the sole of my shoe too, Harry." 

Hearing this immediately sparked my curiosity to investigate. I peered through the narrow opening of their bedroom door, and could not believe my eyes. Sandra's father was buck naked and laying flat on his stomach, licking bottom of his wife's shoe. She was still fully dressed. She sat in a high back chair, and was staring down at him, with an expression of amused contempt. 

"You'll never learn, will you Harry. One day, if you're not careful, I'm going to have you doing this in front of city hall." 

"I'm sorry Sharon, please forgive me." I realized at that moment, that Sandra's father was making some kind of an apology. 

At first, I was appalled. Why would man of such stature, allow himself to be humiliated like this? Sharon then stood over him, with, what looked to be, a riding crop. She pressed the tip of the crop against the top of her shoe, and ordered him to lick it. 

"Make it wet for me Harry, I want maximum sting. Now present your ass for discipline." 

With his lips, still pressed to the toe of her shoe, Harry raised his ass high into the air. He didn't stop, until his ass was touching the end of the crop that casually hung from Sharon's wrist. 

"After each blow I want you to kiss my toe, with a passionate thank you. I want you to show me you're grateful, because I took the time to punish you, instead of throwing you out." 

She must have swatted him about five times, before his thank you began including pleas for her to stop. There were at least five more before she did. Again, Sharon pressed the end of the riding crop against the toe of her shoe. 

"Are you grateful for my attention, husband? 

All I could hear was Harry's blubbering sobs. 

"Than kiss the object used for your painful correction. You know it's not over until you do. That's a good boy." 

I still couldn't believe what I was seeing. This woman skilfully worked her husband over like she would a trained animal. He didn't object for a second, yet they were arguing, less than half an hour ago. I quietly made my way back to Sandra's room. There I tried to make sense of it all. 

My father never would have stood for that. I know there were times when my mother would have enjoyed taking a whip to his butt. He's what you'd call an abusive husband. Mental abuse was his form of control. He'd dish it out when ever things weren't to his liking. As a matter of fact I can't ever recall my father apologizing for any of it. Marry the wrong guy, and your life could become a living hell. 

It was a long time, before I could fall asleep. The image of Sandra's mother, poised with that whip press against her shoe, while her father licked it, had a delicious connotation to it. Yet the humiliating act was so bizarre. What do I tell Sandra? I feel embarrassed for her, yet I know I won't be able to keep it from her, we're too close.

The next morning, I told Sandra what I witnessed. 

"You saw that; you peeping Tom. What you saw doesn't surprise me. If my parents had any kind of real argument, it's my dad that eventually apologizes." 

"Why would he allow himself to be humiliated like that?" 

"My mother said he has a fetish for her shoes and feet, and she uses that, to eventually get her way. She claims that a man with that sort of fetish, is a man born to be ruled by a woman.

"Born to be ruled? You mean, like a slave? 

"Exactly! My poor dad, is a victim of his own sexual desires."

"Wow, this is very interesting. Is it rare?"

"My mother estimates, one man in ten has a true foot fetish. I couldn't believe her. I never heard of such a thing. 

Sandra said she could prove it. Sometimes, when she went shopping, with her mother at the mall, her mother would wear a sexy pair of shoes which she'd call, fishing bait. When ever she stopped to sit down and rest, she would let her shoe slip off her heel and hang from her toes. 

Sandra told me she was stunned to see the number of guys, staring and ogling at her mother's foot.

Though her mother estimates one in ten has shoe and foot fetish, at least a half the men out there find the sight to be sexually arousing. I couldn't believe it, my foot, an object of sexual desire. No wonder so much attention is paid to female shoe fashions. It makes sense.

Afterwards, I spent a considerable amount of time wondering what it would be like to have man with a fetish for my feet. What a humiliating desire! The more I pondered it, the more intrigued I became.

The whole notion made for an interesting power trip. If he wanted to kiss my feet, he would have to promise to do something for me. Make him horny and he'll do what ever I say. Keep him horny, and he becomes a virtual slave. I like that. I can hit on them, but they're not allowed to hit on me. I get my pussy licked and I don't have to suck another cock as long as I live.

Yes indeed, the more I pondered it, the more I liked it.

Chapter 2 

My first impulse was to go down to the mall, and put this theory to the test. Sandra said her mother always uses an open toe shoe and that high heel sandals, seemed to work the best.

Well I couldn't wait to see if it would work. Later that morning I went home to put on a slinky form fitting dress, sheer nylons and a pair of high heel sandals. Something I'd normally ware for a night out.

I took the bus down to the mall and sat myself down by shoe store alley. This was the nickname we gave to a cluster of stores along the main drag inside the mall. On the next bench over, I noticed an older gentleman staring at the women inside the stores, who were trying on different pairs of shoes. It's like he was hypnotized. 

I then happened to notice a guy from one of my classes inside the shoe store. It was Ron Farrel. He seemed to be looking for a pair himself, but I couldn't help but notice him paying an enormous amount of attention to the ladies who were trying on shoes too. His staring was actually quite blatant. Ron Farrel has the fetish! 

Ron Farrel: six foot, slight muscular build sandy blond hair. Nice butt, cute, yes he would do nicely. Doesn't he realize that he's giving himself away? 

I remember thinking to myself, come on Ronny get over here and pay some attention to my feet. Just then, a store clerk approached Ron to see if he needed some help. He just brushed the guy off and proceeded out the door.

"Hey I know you!"

I was feeling rather bold at the moment, or maybe I just knew that this guy was looking for a woman to take the upper hand.

"It's Lisa right?"

"Yes Ron Farrel, what brings you down here on a Saturday morning, shopping for shoes?"

"Yea well, sort of just looking."

Yea looking all right, his eyes kept moving from my face to my feet, like some kind of jumping bean.

"Oh you like my shoes Ron?"

With my legs crossed, I casually swung my sandaled foot up and down. In no time his eyes were fixed on the sensuous sight."

"Yes, their very nice, very sexy."

"You seem to have quite a fascination for them?

"Yes, well, I mean, I think they look, very sexy."

I extended my leg and pointed my foot in his direction.

"I just painted my toe nails, you like?"

"Oh, ah, yes very pretty."

"It's such a pain doing them. It'd be nice to have someone do it for me. Like maybe, a personal servant, or better still, a slave. That would be nice. I wouldn't have to concern myself with such a menial task."

He was speechless! It was like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. I stared right into his eyes with my mischievous grin.

"It strains my neck to be looking up like this. Why don't you have a seat?"

"Yes, a personal slave, you know, just for fun."

"Just for fun?"

"Sure. Let's see, there's back rubs, or better still, a full body massage."

I then casually hung my foot on Ron's thigh.

"Foot rubs and pedicures."

When I noticed his dick was at full mast, I decided to take the liberty of gently pressing my heel into his groin.

"Oh my, am I to assume you like this idea?"

I began to giggle uncontrollably while Ron turned three shades of red.

"It's not what you think."

"I know all about guys like you, so don't try to deny it. You Ron Farrel, would love nothing better then for an chance to kiss, my foot!"

Snickering, I gave his groin a little tap before I pulled it away. He looked like a little boy who was caught with his pants down, sitting there buck naked for all to see. He was too embarrassed to even say a word.

"You know what? I would love nothing better, than to see you do it!"

I sat back in a confident air, crossed my legs, ever so seductively, and casually began to reel my little fish in.

"Go on Ron", I whispered, "give my foot a little kiss."

"Here, in the mall? Are you crazy?"

"I don't like to be called crazy." I pretended to be angry. "I'll just find someone else to play with."

On that note, I got up and started to walk.

"No wait, Lisa, wait a minute, please. Maybe we could meet some where else, maybe a little more private.

I smiled to myself, a smile I could barely conceal. I sat back down and tried to act aloof.

"Like maybe I should invite you back to my apartment?"

"I would be honoured!"

"Right, that would be too easy, for you. I'd like to see you earn, such a privilege."

"Earn?"

"Yes, earn. As in do something to demonstrate worthiness and sincerity."

"Like?"

"Like", I whispered in his ear, "kissing my foot."

"Please not here! Your place, yes, but not here, please."

Ron looked so desperate. I tried to sum up the situation. Could I make him kiss my foot here and now, or should I even try? I had to think fast.

"I'll tell you what. If you can meet me, half way with this, we go back to my place. If not, then you can go fuck yourself."

"Half way?"

I smiled as innocently as I possibly could, and stared him straight in the eye.

"You get down on your knees and ask me to take you home. Just like a lost little puppy dog."

Before he could respond, I dug into my purse, pulled out a handkerchief, held it up in the air, and casually dropped it on the floor next to my foot and smiled.

"That should make it easier for you. Get on your knees, to pick it up for me, and then beg for me to take you home."

Just like the malleable male I knew he'd be, he did exactly as ordered. With red face and raging hard on, he made his little plea on bended knee. I was indeed amused.

His car was on the other side of the mall which meant a long walk. As soon as I realized Ron was trying to pick up the pace, I slowed it down by doing a little window browsing. 

"What's your hurry?"

"No hurry."

"Who do you think you're kidding? Oh look at those boots! Thigh high aren't they?"

Ron just drooled without a word.

"They'd make a nice present, now wouldn't they?"

I watched his every move, his every facial expression.

"I wonder if I could get you to kiss those boots in public?"

Ron just looked at me with disbelief at my perseverance.

"Look at my feet Ron."

Ron obediently stared at my feet. 

"Wouldn't you just love to get down there and give my big toe a little kiss?"

"Please not here!"

"Do I sense you're getting annoyed with me Ron?"

"I'm sorry I..."

"You're right. You will be sorry. Kissing my foot here is for free, much like a gift. In my apartment, it's going to be something you have to earn."

I turned and walked towards the exit without saying another word. I made it known that I was annoyed and that it was up to him to get back into my graces. That's what I wanted him feeling. Like he needed to find some way to make it up to me. Yes indeed, a good way to start a new relationship.

Ron tried to make small talk on the drive back to my place, but I just ignored him. After all, I'm supposed to be angry. The stage was set. Let the game begin.

Chapter 3

When we got back to the apartment, I continued to play aloof. Before opening the door, I first made it clear to Ron that, once inside I'm the boss and that if you can't play by my rules, then you leave.

At first he was taken back at my curt attitude, but after about five seconds, reluctantly agreed.

"You won't be disappointed Ron, I promise."

He followed me in like a puppy on a leash.

"Have a seat, on the floor of course."

Ron's smile didn't hide his anticipation, while he quickly sat down on the floor by the couch. I casually walked over and sat down in front of him.

"Well, I see you know your place, at, my, feet."

I slowly crossed my leg, as if presenting my foot for his affections, but when he made the first move towards it, I turned it away from him.

"What may I ask, are you doing?"

"I thought I came here to kiss......."

"Kiss what?"

"You know."

"I do?"

Ron sat there perplexed and frustrated.

"You're really embarrassed about your fetish, aren't you?"

He looked up at me like a lost little puppy dog and stuttered a quiet little yes.

"Well now, that puts me, in a position of, shall we say, leverage."

Now there was real fear in Ron's eyes.

"You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?

I reach forward and began to run my fingers through his hair, much the way I would pet a dog, and again played the aloof card.

"You needn't worry, unless of course, you decide not to play the game, the way it's meant to be played.

"What do mean. What game?"

"The foot kissing game, of course."

I leaned back and again pointed my sandal in his direction. I began to flex my toes, slowly raising them and then lowering them till he was completely mesmerized. Again, he leaned forward in an attempt to kiss my foot, and again I turned it away from him.

"Didn't I say, that if you wanted to do that in my apartment, you were going to have to first, earn the privilege."

He wore all his emotions on his sleeve. It was like playing poker with a child. Frustration and disappointment was flashing across his face like a neon sign.

"One kiss, only one kiss. I'll do what ever you ask, just one kiss, please!"

"You'll do what ever I ask regardless. That's part of the game."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh but it is. You seem to have forgotten that you've had your chance. At the mall remember."

"I couldn't do this at the mall."

"Why? Afraid of being discovered?"

"I guess, that's what it is."

"You know; your secret is only a secret as long I say it's a secret."

"Ah.... you wouldn't."

"Play the game. Play it the way it's meant to be played, and it will remain our little secret. Other wise, I might be inclined to write a little poem about you in the school newspaper."

He was terrified, I could see it in his eyes. 

Perfect!

"Oh God no! The game, we'll play the game. What sort of game again?"

How naive.

"The, I'm the mistress and you're the slave game."

Now his eyes opened wide in disbelief. I immediately pointed my sandal back in his direction.

"First and foremost. You don't ever kiss my foot, or shoe for that matter, without explicit permission. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"That's, yes "Miss Lisa."

"Yes, Miss Lisa."

"Good."

I slowly raised my foot to within an inch of Ron's nose, and began to tease. I just love to play the big tease.

"I was watching you in the shoe store. You made your little fetish so obvious. You may as well have been wearing a sign to tell all."

I tapped his nose with the toe of my shoe. 

"Silly boy. You've gotten yourself into a very precarious position here, but I think you're going to like it. In fact by the time I'm through with you, you may even crave it, much the way a drug addict craves his fix!"

I could see it all over his face. He was going to be mine, all mine. As I leaned back comfortably on the couch, I used my sandaled foot to toy with his face, stroking the tops of my nylon clad toes to the underside of his chin, lightly brushing my shoe against his cheeks, then rubbing my soles against his forehead and nose.

It was an fascinating contrast to see this delicately designed size six sandal gracing my nylon foot take complete control of his rugged masculine face. I couldn't help but be amused.

"I could even choose to hurt you, if you were to disappoint me."

I then took the heel of my shoe and placed it against his eye brow, while raising my own brow in anticipation of his reaction. Not even a wince, yes! I continued to caress him with my foot.

"You so badly want permission to kiss my foot. Don't you?"

"Yes Miss Lisa."

"So badly, that you're willing to do, well, anything, out of the public eye, of course. That is for now. Beg me then. Beg to do what ever I whim."

"Miss Lisa please. Please, please, please. Allow me to be at your whim"

I stared down into his eyes and with a big triumphant smile.

"Strip! Remain seated there, and take it all off, every stitch."

I found myself grinning from ear to ear as he struggled to take everything off while sitting at my feet.

"It might comfort you to know, that one of the stipulations for paying homage to my shoes and feet, while in the privacy of my home, is that you be buck naked."

While carefully watching Ron, I noticed his anticipation was giving way to fear, as he took off his last piece of clothing.

"There now, I want you to stand for my viewing pleasure."

He was turning beet red with embarrassment as I instructed him to turn around for a rear end view.

"Not a bad piece of meat I have here. Yes in deed, not bad at all. Now, on your knees before me. Upright! Kneel upright, I want no slouching."

I find being curt and to the point works best in preventing Ron from trying to get back to being my equal. Keeps him at bay, one might say.

"Hands crossed behind your back. There now, we have the classic position of mistress and slave. You, naked and kneeling at my feet. Me, sitting comfortably clothed, in my chair, pondering your tasks. Tell me Ron; are you at all happy with this position that you find yourself in?"

"To be honest, I don't know what I'm feeling."

"I think you're driven Ron! I think you're driven by a lust that you can't control, so don't even try. It controls you, and we're both going to find out, just how much. How much, you're willing to do, for the privilege of kissing my pretty little feet."

"I don't know, I honestly don't know!"

"How about cleaning my apartment, in the buff?"

"This is too humiliating."

"Oh but it's just our little secret isn't it. That is as long as I say it is. I'll tell you what, let's just play the game for this afternoon. Then afterwards we'll reassess this relationship on an equal footing."

I leaned forward to extend a formal handshake. Ron's apprehension soon faded. I leaned back on the couch and once again, settled back into my role.

"Now where were we, vacuuming, dusting. I think this place could use a little of both. Not to mention the dishes in the sink."




The Natural



Ron just bowed his head in frustrating submission. I extended my sanded foot to within a few inches of his face.

"If you ask me for the honour of being my house servant, I'll let you lick the sole of my shoe, while making your request."

Immediately his eyes lit up at the opportunity. He's more hooked then he'd care to admit, even to himself.

"Keep your hands behind your back, and lean forward from where you are. Yes rub your nose over tips my stocking toes, while you lick, only the sole of my shoe."

Ron complied with nothing more than a little wince.

"Oh, is the sole of my shoe gritty."

"A little bit."

"I assumed it would be. After all, that is one of the things you're likely to find at the bottom of one's shoe, regardless of how pretty they are."

Just as he was about to make his little plea, I let my foot fall back to the crossed leg position.

"My leg was getting tired, besides, it would be much more befitting if you made your request in the grovelling position."

"I can't lick the bottom of your shoe like that."

"Here, I'll make it easier for you." 

I tipped the toe of my shoe up, ever so slightly.

Now put your face down there and get started!"

Without hesitation, Ron crouched down till he managed to cram his face between the bottom of my shoe and the floor. I had to admit, I didn't make it easy for him, but then, that was part of the fun. 

"Please Miss Lisa, may I clean your apartment?"

"Could you be more specific?"

"Could I please wash your dishes and dust and vacuum for you, please?"

"Tell me; is it a struggled to talk while you lick, or is it more of a struggle to lick while you talk. Do this shoe, and be thorough!"

What a sight! A naked man, on his belly, licking the sole of my shoe while begging, to be......... my maid. What a power trip!

"So, this is what it feels like to be in a position of influence and power. I like it! Feels, exhilarating, to have this kind of power over a person. Buck naked, grovelling and licking, the sole of my shoe, while asking me if you could play the part of my house boy. Say pretty please Miss Lisa, pretty please.

"Please Miss Lisa, pretty please, let me clean your apartment."

"Well, since you insist, and you do seem sincere, I think I'm going to have you start with the dishes. Well, what are you waiting for, get started!"

On that order, Ron slowly stood up. His red face indicating second thoughts.

"You committed yourself there Mister. Don't even think about backing out. You gave your word that you'd clean my apartment if I let you spend some time with my shoe. You were just begging to clean my apartment. You can't back out!"

Ron, like a defeated animal, slowly walked toward the kitchen.

"Could I at least have something to wear?"

"What, and deny me the view of that cute little ass of yours. Besides, the deal was that you do it in the buff. I don't go back on my word, and I don't expect you to go back on yours. Now, get moving."

Chapter 4

Ron spent the next two hours doing my bidding. First washing the dishes, then the kitchen floor. After that, it was straighten out the living room and bedroom, dusting and vacuuming. What a wonderful experience.

I teased him every chance I got. I wore different shoes though out the time he was playing maid; ordering him to dust them for me, or wipe them clean with a cloth. Any real homage is something he has to earn, those are the rules, my rules!

Ron was totally infatuated with my shoes and feet and I plan to take complete advantage. I even put on an old pair of winter boots, along with a pair of dirty nylons to help ripen up the smell a little. I let them get really hot and moist. 

Just as he was finishing up I changed back into the high heel sandals I knew he was so fond of, but as an added twist I continued wearing the dirty nylons; very moist and very stinky. One must engage all the victim's senses in order to ascertain maximum submission.

My God! Where were all these thoughts coming from. I had no idea enslaving a man would be so appealing to me. I could barely contain my excitement.

I sauntered back into the living room and took a seat. With amused confidence, I continued to watch Ron toil, 

"Isn't that something. If I could get you, to commit to being my houseboy for the privilege of licking my shoe, I wonder how far you might go for the privilege of actually making love to these pretty little feet."

I let the shoe dangle casually from my foot while drawing circles with my big toe. It was love at first sight all over again when he saw me wearing these sandals. I think I'm going to try to hypnotize him, with the object of his desires. Oh, this is going to be fun.

"Once your done there Ron. I want you to crawl on over to where I'm sitting and touch your nose to my big toe. You are to hold that position with your hands behind your back while you wait for your next instructions."

"Yes, Miss Lisa."

Oh, now he works with more enthusiasm, interesting. Once Ron was in position, I continued reading as if he wasn't even there. After all, having my undivided attention is also a privilege.

"I see you've finished. Since you did such a fine job, I thought I'd grant you the prize of actually touching my stocking toe with one of your appendages; your nose seemed the most appropriate. You don't mind the smell do you?"

"No, not at all Miss Lisa."

"So it's not just pretty feet you like, it's dirty smelly ones too! Maybe I should walk around barefoot outside for a day and then have you lick them clean for me. Wouldn't that be a tasty treat!"

Ron swallowed hard at the idea, therefore he'd probably have to be properly coaxed to perform such a loathsome act.

"Licking the bottom of my shoes wasn't so bad was it?"

With his nose still touching my nylon toe, he struggled to look up.

"I looked upon it as a means to an end."

"Excellent; you're learning how the game is played. I'm so pleased. I see the smell of my stale foot perspiration is making your dicky very hard again. I like that.

"Now take my shoes off and remove my stockings. I'm warning you now! You do not, touch my skin, unless instructed to do so, other wise it will result in punishment."

"Punishment?"

"A wooden spoon across your backside. Don't worry, I know how to make you beg for it. Now, remove my shoes."

Ron's hands were actually shaking as he fumbled with the straps. Then with reverence, he carefully removed the sandal from my foot. You'd think he was handling a fine piece of porcelain china. I couldn't help but giggle at the ordeal.

"Am I making you nervous?"

"I think I am a little, or maybe it's fear of the unknown. I don't know."

"Well, what is unknown, will soon be known. Now, my stockings, without touching my skin. Run kisses down my legs through the nylon, as you slowly take them off. Do I make myself clear?"

"Oh yes Miss Lisa, perfectly clear."

"So this is what it's like to have a slave at my beck and call. I'm really enjoying this. Oh, such passionate kisses. I see you are enjoying this as much as I am. Stop there, at my calf. Now the other leg."

I let him have all the time he wants with my stocking. He will only frustrate himself that much more.

"Stop there!"

"Please Miss Lisa, I would love nothing more than to kiss your beautiful feet, please."

"But you haven't earned that honour."

"I cleaned your apartment like you asked. I've done everything you've asked of me."

Poor Ron was practically in tears, with frustration.

"Any man, who desires my feet with that much passion and devotion, was surely born, to be my slave."

With him still kneeling at my feet, and the nylon stocking hanging from the end of my foot, I raised it to the same level as his face.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be born, just for the sole purpose of being, my slave?"

"I don't know. I can't believe I'm even here."

"But you are here, because you want to be here. Right here, at my feet."

I slowly began gyrating my toes in front of his face.

"You were born, with a love for pretty female feet! It's somehow been imprinted on your psyche. Maybe it's karma, who knows? We can talk about that later. The question that needs to be answered is, what would you, be willing to do, for the privilege of fondling my feet, till your hearts content." 

I gave him a devious snicker as I flex the hanging stocking at the end of my foot. Ron just knelt there with his mouth open, speechless.

"See my succulent stocking? I want you to gather it all up into your mouth, without using your hands. This should be amusing."

I had a good laugh watching him eat my nylons. It was like watching him gobble up a long piece of spaghetti.

"That's a good little doggy. Chew the dirt out of your mistress's stocking. Make them nice and clean for me. Here let me help you with the last little bit."

I was almost hysterical, as I push the last bit into his mouth with my toe. I stood up and put my nose to his.

"That should keep your mouth busy for a while. Now you're going to lie on your back for me, with your hands underneath your bottom. Yes, that's perfect!"

I then stood over him, with his head between my feet. Ron's face was now filled with trepidation. I think what he feared most was my amused curiosity.

"Now I have you where I want you."

I pick up the other stocking from the floor and began to dangle the foot of the hosiery over his nose. 

"Do you notice how moist the toes are? There're the best part, aren't they? I haven't wash these, for a very long time. As a matter of fact, I pulled them out of the laundry hamper, just for you. I hope you will show your appreciation. Go on, let me hear you give them a good, sniff."

Ron did exactly as requested. You'd think he was smelling some kind of rare flower.

"I'm so glad you enjoy their delicate bouquet. This is the very pair that I was wearing only moments ago. Imagine, only a moment ago they clad my legs and feet. Now, one is in stuffed into your mouth and the other is dancing over your nose. What a treat!"

Ron was trembling in fear, frustration and delight. Perfect for the picking!

"Now I'm going to hypnotize you. You see, I want to make you mine. All mine. You're going to, want, to do, anything I ask, anytime, anywhere. Because you know, if you comply, come that evening, your infatuation for me may be fed. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

First he hesitated, then gave me a few short little nods.

"I can't hear you, slave. Could you speak up."

Even with that nylon stuffed in his mouth, I'm going to make him say what ever I want.

"I want you to look into my eyes, and focus on the taste of the nylons in your mouth and the smell of the nylons dancing on your nose. In these nylons, is the succulent taste of my feet, and their ripe odoriferous scent. Yes indeed, you find this, very much, to your liking. The taste, the smell, and of course, the humiliation of it all." 

"Bask your emotions, in this passionate sensation, become one with it. Let yourself be consumed by it all. You love the fact, that I've taken the initiative to debase you like this. Why, because you know I'm enjoying, it as much as you do, and this is what really turns you on."

I let the stocking come to rest over his nose. 

"Inhale my scent! Take it in, and feel yourself surrendering to it. Their pungent taste and odour feed your bliss." 

"You're beginning to fall in love with me now, because I'm the sort of woman you need. The sort of woman who knows how to get the most from you and maximize your potential."

I stood over him like a seductress while his eyes drank from mine, the domination he so badly craved.

"You don't just want to please me. You love to please me. You need to please me. You crave the kind of woman who needs to be pleased. I am, that kind of woman. Yes indeed, your greatest pleasure comes, from pleasing me, and doing my bidding."

Looking down with a pompous grin, I lifted my left foot and pressed my toes to his lips. 

"When I stand over you like this, you feel at peace, because to you, this position is comforting and natural. As in, the natural order of things. You relish the way, I can tease you and manipulate you. The way I can make you, dance to my tune."

He appeared in a hypnotic trance; staring up at me and waiting for his next order.

"I'm going to let you kiss my foot now, but, you first have to tell me that your only purpose in life is to be here, for me; to be my slave and to serve me in any way I desire. Your deepest desire, is, to be my slave."

"Look into my eyes and say all that and then, and only then, may you kiss, my foot."

I moved my toes back to his chin and smiled in anticipation as he made my words, his words.

"That was all muffled. Ah, no excuses. I want you to say it again, this time more clearly."

I found myself chuckling at the frustrating time he was having trying to say it all, with the nylons stuffed in his mouth.

"That's a little better. Now, beg to be my slave. Say please, oh please, Miss Lisa.

Pushing the right buttons always gets you the right response. I made him beg and plead for at least two minutes, before I finally lifted my left foot over his face and granted him permission to kiss it.

"You can't reach it? I can't see why. Maybe you're not trying hard enough."

I giggled and laughed as he stretched himself silly to kiss his reward.

"Ah, one kiss only. I can be so cruel, can't I? Don't move! I want one more thing from you, a little memento you might say."

I went into the bedroom to get my camera. I then set up a timed flash, which would take a picture of both of us. Sitting in a chair, I crossed my legs off to the side of my willing subject so that my foot was at his mid chest. I had him strain to reach up and kiss it as the camera captured the moment.

"Perfect! That'll be for posterity, among other things. Now go and make us, a cup of coffee, while I go and put this in a nice safe place."

Ron's so preoccupied with his obsession, he didn't even realize the obvious. 

Chapter 5

I returned to the kitchen bare footed, to find two coffees on the table and Ron standing by the chair waiting patiently to pull it out for me.

"Why thank you sir."

Ron acknowledged with a tip of his head and a moan.

"Did I forget about the nylon in your mouth. Well gather up the other and put them both in the bathroom sink for soaking. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you tend to them later."

So horny, and so obedient. A combination that can only be made in heaven. When he got back, I had him sit in the chair across from me.

"Well, now we can discuss what just transpired like two adults. Tell me, how do you feel about your, deep dark desires. Did you enjoy our little game?"

Ron just stared into his coffee cup with a mixture of emotions.

"Well did you?"

"Yes, I did, but at the same time, I didn't. I feel so ashamed for allowing myself to be so degraded. I get so horny, and these desires take over. I become, like, another person, who wants nothing more than to be a slave to your feet. It's so embarrassing, but I love it. Why am I like this?"

He couldn't even look into my eyes. I thought if I was to keep him, it's going to be up to me to make him feel good about it all.

I wanted to jump up and down with delight, but I knew he needed nurturing. It was obviously part of the process.

"Sometimes God has a way of making us experience certain feelings and emotions as a way of making amends for our past actions. Things we did earlier on in this life, or maybe a past life. Maybe it's karma? You do know what's karma, don't you?"

Ron spoke with apprehension.

"You mean like payback?"

"It could be. I think it works both ways. Rewarding us or correcting us. There's good karma, bad karma, group karma, cultural karma. What we probably have here is gender karma."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"With your little fetish for my feet you are helping your gender pay for the atrocities they bestowed upon my gender. It's actually quite genius if you think about it. What better way could there be for a woman to enslave her man. Have the very desires programmed into his procreation instinct. It's perfect!" 

"God, where do I get this stuff? It's like I'm entering some kind of higher level of awareness. "Ron you need to play this out. It's karmic! You need to play it out or spend a life time in denial. Denying it or covering up your deepest desires will only harm you in the long run."

Ron's poor face looked tortured.

"Too much information. I'm so confused."

"Why should you be confused? Live the fantasy for a while. A day at a time. Maybe a week or a month. You can move in with me, I'll take good care of you, that is, if you take good care of me."

I think he was a little surprised at my suggestion. For a moment he gazed at me in disbelief, then stared back at the coffee cup.

"Are you waiting for me to make the decision for you."

"I think maybe I am."

"Well then, get that naked butt of yours on the floor and beg me to consider you as a possible live in."

Ron got on his hands and knees and beg for consideration.

"Could you please...."

"Miss Lisa!"

"Miss Lisa, could you please consider me as possibly coming to live with you."

"As what?"

"A room mate."

"I'm not looking for a room mate. I'm looking for, a slave. Get on your belly. Take my feet, and cup them in your hand and cover them with passionate kisses."

I didn't make it easy for him one bit. He had to crawl right under the table to where I had my feet casually crossed at the ankle, waiting in anticipation.

"Yes like that. Oh that feels so nice. Now, beg for the opportunity of being my slave. While you do that, I'll sit here and consider your plea. Fair enough?"

"Oh yes, Miss Lisa. Oh yes, thank you, thank you."

Ron, while flat on his belly began showering my feet with loving affection, while begging earnestly to be my slave. Sitting at the table, I closed my eyes and savoured the sense of power that was welling up inside. I felt like royalty. My excitement continued to grow and it was making me so wet between the legs.

All of a sudden I had this urge to call Sandra and tell her about my stroke of luck with Ron. It was also my luck that her mother answered the phone and told me that Sandra had gone to the library.

"Any messages Lisa?"

"Actually I have a decision to make and I wonder if you can help me out?"

"Oh, how can I help?"

"Well, I have this male friend on the floor right now."

"Is he all right?"

"Right now he is bestowing an enormous amount of affection on my feet."

I could hear her snickering with amusement.

"Oh really now. Why would he put himself in such a humiliating position like that?" 

"He's pursuing a position as my live in helper, you might say."

"I heard you were eves dropping on us last night. My you are a fast worker. Found a victim and reeled him in did you?

"That pretty much sums it up."

"So you need me, to help you make a decision about that?"

"Maintaining the intensity and devotion was the subject I had in mind."

"Oh, you want to know how to keep him in a state of constant arousal. That's easy, don't let him orgasm for very long periods of time."

"Easy? He can do himself anytime."

"You're in the position to make the rules. Absolutely no orgasm without permission and at the same time, I know a place downtown that sells the perfect chastity belt."

"You're kidding right?"

"No, not at all. Its a little metal mesh sock that slides over the penis and locks around his waist. He can get hard in it. You can even have intercourse with him wearing it, and at the same time, he will feel no stimulation, what so ever."

"It's exactly what I need."

"You just have to convince him to wear it."

"That won't be a problem."

"Then dear Lisa, prepare yourself for a life of leisure. As long as my husband is home, I rarely lift a finger around here. He licks my girlie charms and anything else I desire, on command. And when ever I need a good stiff dick, I just press the magic button."




The Natural



"Magic button?"

"I just squish his nose with my big toe, till he's good and hard."

We both had a good chuckle all the while Ron was still down there kissing my feet with unwavering affection.

When I got off the phone, I immediately announced that we were taking a trip downtown, because I needed to buy something.

"But can I come and live here, as your......slave?"

"To tell you the truth Ron, I haven't decided yet."

Ron looked forlorn.

"You were the one who suggested it."

"Yes, but I'm still not convince you're devotion is sincere enough."

"But it is!"

"I'll be the judge of that! I still have a test or two to put you through, before I make my final decision. Now, get dressed, we're leaving!"

When we arrived at the store where the chastity belt was sold, I told Ron to wait in the car. I thought it would be easier to get him to wear it when he was in a more pliable frame of mind. It was better he didn't even see it. At the same time I purchased a riding crop. I knew for certain it would come in handy.

After I picked up a few things at the grocery store, I purposely left the bag on top of the trunk and sat myself down in the back seat. Ron was rather peeved at my demand to put the groceries in the trunk and then drive me home.

"You're my chauffeur. That's the way a mistress speaks to her underlings."

I kicked my shoes off and tickled the back of his neck and ears with my perspiring toes.

"You don't mind if I put my feet up do you."

He didn't say a word. It's obvious he doesn't like to play the role in public. That, will change.

Chapter 6

After Ron got out of the car and reluctantly putting the grocery bag in the trunk. We drove back to my place incomplete silence. I think we were both reeling with the anticipation of this budding relationship. Once inside the apartment I made it clear that he was to receive three strokes of the whip for his insolence.

"But I just.......!"

"You were rude and hesitant, for a simple request! It wasn't like I was asking you to stand on the hood of the car in your birthday suit."

"I'm sorry."

"Save it, for the little ritual I have planned. In the mean time put the groceries away, while I prepare."

I sat down in the living room where my mind was spinning out creative ideas to reinforce my control over him. I can't remember the last time I was this exited about anything. Once he was done, I wasted no time getting started.

"In your birthday suite boy."

"Again?"

"Are you questioning me?"

"No, I mean, I didn't quite know what you meant."

"Snap to it! I'm going to be creative in my efforts to assimilate you into this new life style. This high heel pump symbolizes the base of feminine power. I place it here, on the floor, in the centre of the room as your alter. I call it your alter, because this is where you alter your priorities concerning self to your priorities concerning me, your mistress."

I began pacing back and forth, flexing the tawse, while the shoe was positioned between us.

"When ever you step out of line, by any standards I set, or disrespect me in any way, this is where the correction takes place."

I place the tip of the tawse inside the shoe and raise my eye brow to dramatize my seriousness. I think I should have been an actress.

With the tawse still inside the shoe I ordered him to kneel before his alter and kiss the object that will be used for his correction. He willingly complied. After all, how could he resist.

"You notice how worn and soiled the pump is? That too is symbolic of the vast knowledge and experience that has been gleaned while wearing them."

"Now, push your nose inside and pay homage to it! Inhale the rancid perspiration of your mistress's shoe and savour the taste of it's contents. Yes, now beg to be painfully disciplined."

"Please Miss Lisa, please punish me in any way you see fit."

My response was immediate. Three quick strokes across his ass. I slowly walked over to my chair and sat down.

"I then instructed my little male minion to crawl to where I was sitting." 

"On your belly worm! Much better!" 

I crossed my leg, placed the tip of the tawse over the toe of my sandal and instructed him to kiss it with affection and appreciation.

"Now that wasn't so bad was it. I gave all three of them as swiftly as I could, so as not to abuse your cute little bottom."

"You see, I want you to know, that you can trust me never to do you any real harm. This special relationship of ours, has to be built on trust, don't you agree?"

Letting the sandal fall from my foot, I began teasing his upturned face with my stocking toes.

"Well?"

"Oh yes Miss Lisa, I trust you."

"But can I trust you?"

"Why yes........., of course."

"Isn't the smell, intoxicating. Mm."

"Oh yes, Miss Lisa, how you know it."

"Their so wet and sticky. Just the way you like them. Would you like permission to kiss and lick them."

"Oh God yes, please!"

"Well lets first get back to the question of trust. You're humping yourself this very second and you know the rules on self abuse, yet you disobey them, right in front of me."

"Oh I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, please forgive me."

I continued to toy with his face.

"If I can't trust you when you're in plain sight of me. How can I possibly trust you when you're out of my sight."

"I don't know."

"But I do. I have an idea and I want you to ask me to try it."

Ron the eager beaver.

"Yes try it! Please, please try it! " 

"You will do so, while kissing each of my toes once. That's ten times you have to ask me to try my idea. Are you game?" 

I pushed and prodded his lips with my toes, making him struggle with the reply.

"Oh yes, Miss Lisa, yes thank you, yes!"

He kissed and nuzzled each toe as if it was a sweet grape, but I assure you there's no way they taste like grapes; far from it.

After nibbling each toe, he gleefully begged me to help make him trustworthy.

"Kneel upright!"

Within ten seconds I had the chastity sock in place and then, click!

"Now I can trust you, because now your little friend there, belongs to me. Your psychological and physical pleasure which comes from being my slave will always be there. The manifestation of this pleasure in the form of sexual release on the other hand, now comes infrequently and only with my permission."

"This is how I plan on trusting you."

"This is like a chastity belt."

"That's exactly what it is, but it's proper name is chastity sock. It's designed to allow you your everyday functions, as well as a pain free erection, but no direct stimulation. Not without my personal say so. I'm the only one with the key. Keep me happy and satisfied and I can keep you happy and satisfied."

"I don't know if I like this."

I pressed my foot against his face and pushed him to the floor.

"Well I happen to know that deep down inside, you love it! As a matter of fact I think you need it, just like the oxygen you're breathing! And I plan to make sure that you get what you need. Instead of questioning my intention, you should be thanking me."

I sat back down with a pompous arrogant smirk and waited for his appropriate response; and of course his didn't disappoint me. He started to apologize and stooped down to kiss my foot. I then turned it away from him.

"I didn't say you could kiss my foot. Kiss the floor with your apology and don't forget to thank me for my thoughtful solution to your mistrust." 

Ron's dick was at high mass. Though the humiliation frustrated him, he loved the abuse, and couldn't help but give into it.

"You must wonder if I'm still considering having you live with me."

"Yes Miss Lisa I am still wondering."

"Well there is still a couple of things that you need to be tested for."

"And they are?"

"First you have to lick me. I need to know what kind of pussy licker you are. Then we'll discuss the second test later."

I stood up and dropped my panties.

"Pick them up and hand them to me. They've gotten quite damp from all this fun I've been having."

I dangled them in the air over his head. 

"Smell the fragrance of my womanhood. It rules you and you can't resist it! Now, I want you to beg like a dog in heat to suck on the crotch. That's a good boy, eat my panties. Their good for you."

I couldn't wait another minute, he had to lick me now! I sat tall like a queen on her throne.

"Lick me slave! Lick my little clitty and drink from my fountain, the nectar of my womanhood."

He jumped in like a dog in heat. It took less than a minute for me to experience the orgasm of my life. When it was over, I was so exhausted, I couldn't move a muscle."

This relationship was definitely good for my sex life. But Ron need not know that, yet.

"How was it Miss Lisa. I trust it was a very satisfying orgasm?"

"Not bad; I've had better. You could maybe use a little instruction, but to be honest you did quite well with that test."

"Thank you Miss Lisa."

"Don't be so quick to thank me. The next and final test I might add, won't be so easy.

I could see the apprehension and fear in Ron's eyes. I pressed my stocking foot against his caged manhood and began to flip it around.

"But, if you really want me, it shouldn't be too difficult at all."

His dick went from hard to extra hard. It was just like pushing buttons.

"Well if you must know, it has something to do with those thigh high boots we saw in the window this morning. You have to buy them for me as a moving in gift."

"That's no problem!"

"Well then let's get decent and go on down and buy them then."

Chapter 7

On the drive down I sat in the front with my back to the door and my legs extended across the seat so that my sandals were resting on his lap. I teased him relentlessly. I needed him hot enough, to lick those boots, right there in the store.

When we got there it was near closing time. Fortunately for him the store was empty. Only the sales lady was there, whom I later found out was the owner. She was fortyish, and she too knew the power of the female foot. The shoes she was wearing made it obvious. Sheer red hose, red, high heel sandals with barely enough straps to keep them in place. Ron drooled, which made it perfect.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, the thigh high boots in the window, I'd like to try them on."

"Size?"

I tried to act as casual as I could.

"You know I'm not sure. I'll just sit here and have my boyfriend find out for me. Find the sizer Ron. I want you to take off my shoe and size my foot for the sales lady. You don't expect her to do it, do you?" 

Ron looked petrified.

"Here?"

"The test remember. You want to come live with me, don't you?"

"You know I do."

"But how badly?"

He froze on me.

"This lady knows all about guys like you. She can read you like a book."

The sales lady spoke with an amused curiosity.

"They come in here all the time. Mostly just to drool."

"You see."

"I've had a long day young man. I'd appreciate nothing better than seeing you get down there sizing her pretty little foot for me."

I turned to the sales lady and nodded my appreciation. Ron with all his apprehension, knelt before me and began to fumble with my straps. I wanted to prolong this little ritual, so I twisted and turned my ankle, just to make it difficult for him. The sales lady, who introduced herself as Catherine, and I both had a little chuckle watching him struggle in frustration.

After finally removing my shoe he slide the sizer under my foot and stuttered- "six."

"I knew that, I just wanted to put you to work."

Catherine headed off to get the boots

Embarrassed, he knelt of to the side from where I was sitting. I swung my leg over the arm of the chair so that my foot was several inches from his face.

"Kiss it! Go on. There's nobody in here. Just Catherine and she knows all about you, without even knowing you." 

"I'm looking forward to the smell of those leather boots, aren't you? Their going to make the smell of my feet even more irresistible. They perspire like crazy in boots. I bet you can't wait hmm..?"

Ron had a tear well up in one eye.

"Do me proud, slave. Kiss my foot here and now and thank me for this opportunity to prove yourself worthy. Later, you'll have the orgasm of your life, I promise."

Tears streamed down his face has he leaned forward and kissed my foot while thanking me for this opportunity.

Catherine returned with the boots, set the box down on the floor and sat down herself.

"Last one in your size. I assume you're going to have your man try them on for you."

"Why of course Catherine. Ron, my boots."

I extended my leg in front of him and gave him a look that had ultimatum all over it.

"Comply with my request or it's all over, not another chance ever."

"I'd take Lisa seriously Ron. You guys are a dime a dozen while on the other hand Lisa is not. If she put an ad in the paper for a guy like you, the response would be phenomenal. You'd be a distant memory in no time."

"Why thank you Catherine. A little added incentive, I like that."

Ron opened the box. I lifted one high into the air and smiled.

"Smell the leather Ron. Mm..... yes. Put them on me, now!

He slipped them on like a second skin.

"Now the other one."

Catherine instructed Ron to smooth them upward, while I stood and pulled them up as high as they'd go.

"Oh magnificent!"

"I have to agree Catherine, their beautiful; and they exude such power." 

I looked down at Ron who was staring at the awesome sight and gave him a devious little snicker.

"Will you, or won't you?"

While taking a wider stance, I put my hands on my hips and looked around to see if anyone had come into the store.

"It's to bad we don't have a bigger audience."

"It's closing time dear, but I could arrange for one, if you like."

"Thank you Catherine, but I'm going to give Ron two choices."

Catherine gave me a puzzled look, while Ron swallowed in fear and confusion.

"I'm going to give you an order. You will do it, without hesitation. I mean immediately. If you don't. I'm going over to stand in front of the window. There, I will give you the same order. If you choose not to comply to that order as well, your relationship with me will cease to exist. By the way, that little photograph I took, you'll be able to pick it up on the cafeteria bill board."

Anguish, frustration and defeat are but a few of the things Ron was probably feeling at the moment. Being the personal possession of domineering woman was fast becoming a reality. It has snow balled out of his control and into mine. Now I was going to be able to make him do something he had no intention of ever doing. A public exhibition of my domination over him.

"I think I'm going for a stroll over to the front of the store."

"No, please!"

"I beg your pardon."

"I mean, Miss Lisa, please no."

"I just love games, don't you Catherine?"

"Very entertaining. I think you're very good at getting what you want."

"Why thank you Catherine."

"I'm just going for a little stroll to see how they feel."

"How do they feel?"

"A perfect fit!"

Catherine raised her brow.

"More importantly, how do they make you feel?"

I looked straight at Ron.

"Oh, very sexy, and powerful. I feel like I can, bend a man's will, like a twig and then, snap it!"

Ron was beside himself now. Adjusting the little cage between his legs meant that it was fast becoming more than he can take. I slowly walked towards where he was kneeling.

"Do you like them?"

"On you, they're more beautiful than I could ever have imagined."

"Beautiful enough to make you want to become my live in slave?"

"You know, I do."

"I do, but I like to hear you say it. I need you to show me that, you mean it! It's that trust thing we talked about, remember?" 

I stopped about five feet from him and crossed my arms under my breast.

"Crawl! On your belly; but first put pull your pants down to your knees. I want to show off that cute little ass of yours to Catherine."

Catherine giggled with amusement at the little charade.

"Oh yes, look at you. You look so deliciously foolish." 

"I didn't say you could use your hands. I want you to wiggle like a worm."

Catherine and I looked at one another and gaffed.

"You'd make better progress if you'd wiggle that bum of yours. Go on wiggle it."

When he got to within a few inches of my boot, I slowly and seductively took two steps back.

"I don't think anything turns me on more than this. A man, bare butt, crawling to me on his belly. This should be a standard ritual for marriage proposals. How about it? Or maybe an apology when ever he raises his voice to you. I'd like that."

Catherine snickered in agreement.

"Yes, grovel away you male worm."

I turned around and walked towards the front of the store.

"There's still people out there. Maybe one will come in, and I can show off my handy work."

I walked back and stood in front of him.

"Would you like that Ronny?"

"Please Miss Lisa, I'm getting so tired."

"I'd show you some sympathy, but I forgot my violin."

Just then a woman walk in.

"Oh my ride is here."

I whispered to Ron.

"Don't you dare move!" 

The older woman casually walked towards the back of the store.

Oh a curious smile, she's definitely amused. 

"Catherine, if you don't mind me asking, what's going on here?

"I think it's a demonstration in obedience."

"Actually it's test for worthyness and unconditional love. My potential, slave here, has a phobia when it comes to expressing his love for me in public. I wish to break that phobia by having him exhibit it for me right here and now. Well, slave what are you waiting for; or should I have you crawl to the front door and do it."

Ron started to frantically kiss my boot.

"You don't kiss a ladies boot, silly, you lick them! When a lady has chosen to shod her feet with boots, its often to protect them from the dirty elements. When presented to you, it's your job to lick them, clean!" 

"That's right, start with the toe and lather them all around. This is so nice. I feel like a queen whose lover is chosen by the capability of his tongue. What better place to start, then at the bottom."

"Did you say potential slave?"

"That's right, Miss...."

"Oh I'm sorry, Lisa this is my sister Alexandra. Alexandra.... Lisa. How do you do?"

"A man with a foot fetish. Do you remember me telling you about them Alex." 

"Yes but I found it hard to believe. Men with a fixation for feet! That would revolutionize the marriage relationship."

"Imagine if your husband was like that."

"If my husband was like that, I'd make that jerk lick the dirt off my shoes every night."

"You never know Alexandra, he could be. You just have to know how to push the right buttons."

"I don't think so, not my husband."

"Get him to give you a foot rub, maybe rub his dicky a little while he's doing it. Study his reaction. You might be surprised."

"Are you giving them a good polishing, mister."

The two sisters chuckled as they gathered round to watch the spectacle.

"Yes, we're going to break this little phobia you have, when it comes to expressing your feelings about me in public. Why don't you tell us all, how you feel about me."

"You know I love you Miss Lisa."

"Don't stop licking! It's a very important part of the ritual to be able to express your affections while licking both my boots."

"I love you Miss Lisa. I need you. I worship the very ground you walk on. I don't know what I'd do, if you ever left me. Please let me come live with you as, as your servant."

"I want you as my slave. Lick my boots with more fervour while you, beg, to be my slave."

"Please Miss Lisa, please, let me live with you as your slave."

"Continue! Continue until I'm convinced you mean it."




The Natural



It's the 3rd quarter of the big game between the two college teams in town and you have wandered off underneath the bleachers to get a closer look at the cheerleaders in private. The opposing team has some hot pom-pom girls and you find a spot hidden just enough to where you can watch the girls jump and tumble. You've been watching for awhile through a slit in the bleachers where very few people are sitting. The sight of those girls bending with their pleated little skirts brushing provocatively against their upper thighs and seeing those tight panties exposed when the girls cartwheel and are upside down has turned you on to the point needing to relieve yourself.

You unzip, pull out your already hard cock and immediately started to stroke it as you watch the girls jumping. There's one girl in particular who has a really nice ass, so you focus on her and imagine what it would be like to bend her over, lift up that cute little skirt, and pump your hard cock into her tight pussy from behind. Your dick stiffens even more at the thought and your fist slides up and down faster on the shaft, making pre-cum ooze out of the tip.

You are so involved in your little mental fantasy that you don't hear when two of the cheerleaders from our team and I sneak under the bleachers for a quick drink. I am the first to hear you moaning and I shhh the girls and tell them to follow me so we can investigate. We creep closer to where the noise is coming from and see that your back is to us and your right arm is moving steadily. I cover my mouth to smother a giggle when I realize what it was you're doing.

"Oh my God!" I whisper to the girls, "He's jacking off!!"

"No way!" One of them hisses back and squints her eyes to get a better look.

"What a freakin' perv!!" The tall one says in disgust.

"C'mon, let's have some fun with him!" I sneer as I tip-toe carefully behind you.

You are still going at it, and your hand is jerking your cock at a fast pace now. You are intently peering through the slot, your attention riveted on the cheerleaders.

I get right up behind you and yell out, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!!"

You practically jump out of your skin. Your hand immediately comes off of your loaded cock which bobs up and down ridiculously as you leap from your seat and turn around to see us standing there.

We all look at you and recognize your face immediately.

"Holy shit, it's you?" The tall one cracks up laughing when she realizes it's you, the nerdy guy from Chem 101, and it makes what you were doing that much funnier.

We all start laughing and the other girl blurts out, "Busted!" as she sees your cock dangling from your pants.

"You sick—little—bastard! You were jacking off down here!" I shake my head at you disapprovingly.

You're like a deer caught in the headlights and you're not sure if you should speak or not. Your dick is starting to go limp and you stuff it quickly back into your pants and zip up.

"I...I...was just..." you stammer, but don't finish the sentence.

"What were you looking at you filthy, little perv?" I sit in the place you were sitting and through the crevice I see the opposing team's cheerleaders shaking their pom-poms and doing a cheer.

"He was looking at the other team's cheerleaders!" I snarl and then glare at you. "What's the matter, my girls aren't good enough for you? Hey girls, you're not good enough for this creepy tosser to jack off to. He likes the other girls better. Let's show him what he's missing!!"

I nod my head and the two cheerleaders rush up to you and yank your pants down hard. I see that the idea of the material being ripped away from you by the girls excites you as much as it embarrasses you, and you stand there with your cock hardening and your balls and ass fully exposed to us all in one swoop.

"Come here you little peeping Tom! We'll give you something to peep at!" Your pants and underwear are in a pile at your feet and you can't believe what's happening. Your eyes are wide with shock and the girls roughly assist you over to where you were sitting. Oddly enough, you don't resist or even say anything. The metal is cold on your bare ass as they plop you down on it. You're both thrilled and a little scared as you sit there waiting, I can tell. I can also see in your expression that you're wondering what's going to happen next. 

"So the tosser wants to get off. Let's make that happen for him girls. Do the Score cheer for him. Let's see if he can score!"

The girls start calling out S-C-O-R-E and begin jumping with their backs turned to you and they bend over and shimmy their butt cheeks at you. Your dick is rock hard, and I'm chuckling as I watch you. "Keep going girls, I think the little horn dog likes it."

"You like the girls, Tosser? Do their asses make your dick hard? You think you can score with one of them? Hmmm, tell me Tosser do they make you wanna jack off?"

You sit there trying not to get excited but your dick is betraying you. 

"Well? ANSWER ME!!"

"Yes" you say meekly.

"YES WHAT?" I snap.

"They make me wanna jack off." Your voice is squeaky, tinged with embarrassment and want.

"Then do it," I say icily. "Grab your cock and stroke it while you watch them."

You look at me in utter disbelief and my eyes narrow at you indicating that I'm not kidding. You obey and wrap your hand around your cock nervously and stroke it lightly.

"That's not the way you were doing it when we caught you. It'll take you all day to get off like that. Un-uh, c'mon you little wanker, jack that cock good! I nod at the girls cueing them to give you an added visual aid.

The girls giggle and start cheering, "Jack that cock, jack that cock!" They remove their panties and do cartwheels to show you their furry pussies and bare asses. Your dick becomes fully erect and you are stroking like you mean it now.

"Good boy. See, I knew you could do it. You wanna get off? You wanna get off, Tosser? Tell me you wanna get off." I'm standing near you watching you jerk your dick, and I can tell you wanna cum.

Breathlessly you answer, "I wanna get off!" and your fist pumps your cock harder.

"Let go of your dick. Look at me and tell me you want to get off."

"I wanna get off," you moan as you stop stroking and your balls squeeze upward threatening to burst.

"You want me to get you off Tosser? Tell me. Say Coach Raeyna, please get me off."

"Coach Raeyna, please, pleeeze get me off," you beg with pathetic sincerity in your voice.

I laugh to hear you begging me, and I grab a handful of your hair from the top of your head to lift your face up to me. "Such an obedient little tosser!" 

"Girls it's time for this pervert to score. Let's have the touchdown cheer." 

The girls break into a lively cheer chanting "take that ball, run it down the field..." 

Your eyes flit from the girls to me as you see me move. I'm holding a bottle of hard lemonade in my hands that I've borrowed from one of my girls, and I take a long sip then set the bottle down. I saunter up to you and wrap my now cold hand around your cock. You gasp as I squeeze you. 

"What's the matter Tosser, is it cold?" I tease. 

I feel how rigid and ready you are. I remove my hand, spit in my palm, and look you straight in those wide, wondering eyes. Your expression is one of amazement, anticipation and a little fear—just what I like to see. I replace my hand on your cock, making a tight fist and slide my hand up and down your erect shaft. My spit lubricates your dick and my hand now glides easily down the base and up toward the head.

"Is this what you want?" I'm jerking you off, Tosser. You're being stroked by a teacher; does that make you hot? Ooo, just look at your cock. It's so hard. You want me to jerk off your little dick while you watch the cheerleaders, Tosser? You like my hand on your horny little pecker don't you?" My fist is wrapped tight around your dick and is stroking you rhythmically building up speed so that it's a little faster after every few strokes.

The girls are still cheering and jumping and you can see their crotches—those sexy slits that you imagine you could sniff and lick and fuck. "Look at those pussies, Tosser. Don't you wish you could put your hard dick inside one of them? It would be so hot inside, so wet. Your cock would slide right in and sink down deep. Oh, are you excited? You're panting. You're panting Tosser, like a dog—like a dog in heat. Are you a dog? Tell me you're a dirty dog, Tosser.

In between panting you rasp out, "I'm...a...dirt...ty...dog. Oh God yes, I'm a dog!" 

"You seem a little worked up, Tosser. Maybe I better stop. Shall I stop, Tosser? You seem a little stressed out."

"Oh please no, Coach Raeyna, don't stop. Please..." 

Your breath is ragged and there are beads of sweat on your upper lip. My hand slows down considerably and your face contorts. You whimper. 

"You want me to make you cum, Tosser? You wanna get off? Tell me. Tell me you want me to make you cum."

In agony you are panting and breathe out "I...want you...to...make me cum."

I rub the top of my thumb up over the head of your cock as I stroke it slowly and pre-cum coats the tip.

"Ohhh. Gahh!" You gasp as you feel my thumb roll over you and spread the sticky fluid around your ridge.

"You wanna cum? Bad boys shouldn't get to cum. Beg me to let you cum. Say Coach Raeyna, please I beg you, let me cum."

My fist pumps your penis faster, and I can feel you pulsing from the base of the shaft. You're gonna blow any minute, so I slow down, waiting to hear what I told you to say.

"Coach Raeyna, please...I beg you...let me...cum." Your words are a series of gasps and your face is scrunched up as if in pain now. You're breathing hard and the torture of me teasing your cock with fast then slow rhythms is agonizing.

"Almost, my little Tosser." My fist moves with wild speed up and down your cock and grips you so tightly that you can no longer stand it. "Oh, you wanna cum bad don't you? Huh, You wanna give it to me don't you, Tosser?" I taunt as I work your cock. "You're gonna give me that cum. I know you're almost there aren't you?"

"Oh Gahh! Shit!!"

Upon hearing your gasps and feeling your body beginning to tense, I immediately pull my hand away from your cock. You groan and gasp. Your cock bobs and twitches in utter frustration. You writhe in your seat trying to hold back, but it's too late. 

"N-o-o-ho," you moan and squeeze your legs together. 

I smile triumphantly and a peal of laughter erupts from the girls.

A stream of cum spills out of your cock with all of the intensity of a glass of milk that's been knocked over. It runs down your leg, and it's the most unmanly orgasm I've seen in quite awhile. You've cum, but not in the way you expected.

Giving an innocent little laugh, look at you and shrug my shoulders. "Oops, I guess my hand slipped. Now look what happened. You came before I got to finish the job. That's too bad." I stick my lower lip out in a feigned pout and sigh in mock disappointment. "Maybe next time."

You breathe in and exhale loudly. Your head rolls back with incredulity, and a slight chuckle escapes from your throat. "Coach Raeyna?"

"Yes?"

"I know this is going to sound weird, but—thank you."

I smile at you brightly. "You're a natural submissive, Tosser. Did you know that?"

"Submissive? What's that."

"You're that, Tosser. You could have left at any time. You could have told me to leave you alone. You could have even threatened to scream or stormed off, but you didn't. You knew this was dangerous for us both. Why did you stay? You knew I was teasing you."

"I knew. I liked it. It turned me on, and I liked the orders you gave me and the girls."

"Of course you did. You think I didn't see it in your face from the beginning? I can spot a natural a mile away. Get yourself cleaned up and go home. Take a shower, think about what I did to you here and jack off for real. Wait a week, then come and see me if you'd like to learn more. I'll leave it up to you." 

I turn to the girls and motion with my head toward the field, "let's go."



The Natural



After the lovely mounds of buttock flesh, he transferred his attention to his aunt's anus, and the mature woman felt a frisson of erotic delight flicker through her as he made contact with the whorled bud.

Then he was at the lips of her vagina, delving into it musky delights, before parting the thick, heavily-aroused labia, and then moving deeper to the budding, thrusting clitoris.

Suddenly, as mature and experienced as she was at being ass worshipped, Amanda Frobisher could hold back the flood gates of erotic ecstasy no longer, and with a moaning, groaning "Yeeeees" she exploded on the boy's face while he knelt behind her.

Pushing him away, Mrs Frobisher turned, grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him onto her heaving, satin-clad breasts, before mashing her mouth onto his pussy-perfumed lips, one hand stroking his raging hard-on.

"That was lovely, boy," she whispered, parting briefly from the oral embrace. "You're a fuckin' natural!"

The lad smiled at her, and even fluttered his lovely dark eyelashes – the young flirt!

"Have I made up for my naughtiness, aunty?" he inquired. 

His smile disappeared when he saw his aunt look stern again.

"Don't be so silly, boy," she frowned. "That's just a beginning."

The two teenage girls almost clapped hands in delight at the mature woman's pronouncement.

"Now that you know your proper place around here, boy, there's going to be some changes made," said Mrs Frobisher.

The boy looked despairingly at his aunt-guardian.

"For starters, you have behaved so outrageously towards your cousin and her friend that you'd better start to learn some manners," said the bossy socialite. "You will, from now on, refer to them as 'Miss Lucy' and 'Miss Karla'. Understood?"

The lad nodded, miserably, Amanda Frobisher saw with pleasure.

"And 'aunty' sounds so old-fashioned," she continued. "So from now on it's 'Mistress' for me, got it?"

The lad looked even more downcast, but nodded his understanding.

Mrs Frobisher paused, pulled her panties back on and then lowered the boom on the lad.

"And after dinner, boy, you will report to me and Miss Lucy and Miss Karla in the lounge. We've got some work for that clever little tongue of yours."

The boy was on the verge of bursting into tears, Amanda Frobisher could see.

"But aunty …" he began to remonstrate, only to be silenced by a slap across the face.

"Mistress!" glowered his domina.

"But mistress," the boy resumed, "you said I was 'a natural."

Amanda Frobisher grinned wickedly. "That's what I said, boy," she assured him.

"But we just want to make sure it wasn't a one-off, don't we girls?"

To be continued...



The Naturalist



The girls enjoyed hiking and camping. For their current holiday they had arranged to go on a camping trek through the national park. The idea was that they would follow a path that would take them right through the main section of the park, camping each night where-ever they fetched up. There were campsites provided along the way.

The young women were all in their early twenties, fit and healthy. OK. If pushed, Susan would admit to being a little over-weight, but if the men didn't mind, why should she? Marie and Ronnie might tease her about it but, they had to admit, her blonde hair and big breasts drew the men like flies. 

"Hullo the camp," a voice called.

It was their third night out and they were quite deep in the park. They had pitched camp for the night and had a small fire going while they were cooking some dinner and coffee. They were quite startled when the voice rang out.

"Mind if I join you?" boomed the voice.

The girls looked at each other and shrugged.

"Come in if you're good looking," yelled Susan, "otherwise go home."

The girls giggled and watched to inspect their visitor.

To their startled eyes it looked as though a bear was approaching. A rather large bear. The figure soon revealed itself to be a rather large man dressed in an odd outfit. 

"Hi," he said. "I'm Doctor Tom Andrews, but just call me Tom. I'm a naturalist, currently in the park doing a census of the animals and tracking the way they move through the park. In case you're wondering, this is a ghillie suit. It helps me blend into the background."

He flashed a good natured smile at the girls.

"If you can overlook the odd clothing you will notice that I'm really incredibly handsome. That's why I accepted your kind invitation. I have a mug. Do you have some hot coffee I can put in it?"

"Take a seat," laughed Ronnie. "The coffee is in the pot and, yes, it's still hot. Help yourself."

"So tell me," she continued, "what is an incredibly handsome doctor such as yourself doing wandering through the woods counting bears instead of wandering around a campus counting co-eds?"

Tom settled down with a mug of coffee and told the girls a bit about the research he was doing. They in turn told him about their own explorations of the park and the foursome blended well together, chatting and getting to know a bit about each other.

After an hour or so Tom spoke up.

"I've been wandering around in the park in this ghillie suit for about three weeks now. It's going to be a relief to get out of it for a while, while I get a bit of nookie. Which one of you would like to volunteer for some friendly exercise?"

There was dead silence for a moment as the girls glanced at each other. Then Susan expressed the general feeling.

"I'm sorry, Tom, but it appears that you may have gathered the wrong impression about us. We're not interested in a bit of exercise, as you put it. I think it might be time for you to leave now."

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Tom. "I quite understand. It's the same with the co-eds. Some are willing and some aren't. Fortunately, I've never let unwilling stop me. I'll take her," he added, nodding to Ronnie.

This time the silence was even more marked as the girls went so still they didn't even seem to breathe. 

"What do you mean by that?" asked Ronnie carefully. 

"Just that. I learnt early in my career that if you don't get any volunteers, pick someone. I've picked you, so you might like to start undressing."

"But we just said we aren't going to have sex with you. What part of 'no' did you fail to understand?"

"The part where it disagrees with what I want," said Tom, smiling. "I'm hornier than a mink on heat and you're going to assist me here, like it or not. But you probably will like it. I'm quite good, you know."

"What you're talking about is rape," pointed out Marie. "You go to jail for rape."

"Only if it's reported," returned Tom, "and I doubt you'll bother reporting it. Just too, too, much publicity. Now will you please start getting your clothes off, woman?"

The three girls looked at each other again, upset and puzzled. 

"You don't really think we're going to co-operate with you, do you?" asked Susan.

"Well, yes," said Tom. "What choice do you have? What else can you do? Run into the woods? I'd find one of you easily enough. I'm very experienced at moving through the woods.

Are you going to scream? Who's going to hear you? 

And I'm quite sure the three of you won't want to actually fight me over this. She might struggle a bit when I take her, but that's all."

"What makes you think the three of us won't fight you?" demanded Marie.

"Self-preservation," said Tom, with a truly nasty smile. "If the three of you tried to fight me I'd have to knock a couple of you out and then have my exercise with whoever was left, and that might be you. As it is, all you have to do now is sit back and relax while Ronnie and I play."

The three girls took another look at Tom, suddenly realizing just how big he was. And it didn't look as though much of it was fat. It probably wasn't if he'd been hiking around the park for the past few weeks.

"By the way," Tom added, speaking directly to Ronnie. "If you were to turn and bolt for it I'd just grab one of the others. Do you really want to do that to them?"

Suddenly Tom made a move. Before Ronnie could dodge he had hold of her arm.

"Now why don't you two sit down? You can watch while we play."

Tom tugged at the front of his ghillie suit. There was a ripping sound and it split straight down the centre.

"Velcro," said Tom, grinning at the girls as he swiftly stripped off the suit. Stepping out of it he turned to Ronnie.

He easily caught her wrists and, holding them behind her back in one of his hands, he started undoing her jeans. With the jeans unfastened, he quickly pulled Ronnie's t-shirt up and off, followed quickly by her bra.

Keeping one eye on Susan and Marie, who were standing next to the fire watching, shocked that he was actually doing this, he addressed the problem of Ronnie's jeans.

"Now I could take your jeans off myself," he explained, "but it would be time-consuming and I might hurt you yanking at them. They're definitely coming off, no matter what you want, so why not be sensible and take them off yourself."

Ronnie looked helplessly at Susan and Marie. All they could do was look back, the same helplessness plain on their faces. With a groan, Ronnie started easing her jeans down, doing her best not to pull her panties down with them. Not that she thought that would help for long.

With her jeans off, Ronnie stood there, waiting to see what was next. It wasn't long in coming. Gentle pressure on her shoulders encouraged her to sink down to her knees, whereupon a gentle push between her shoulder blades sent her over onto all fours.

"Just stay like that," murmured Tom, sinking down to kneel behind her. 

He pulled Ronnie's panties down, running his hand over her mound while he did so. His own underpants were then pushed down, finally freeing his erection.

Ronnie looked up at the sound of Susan and Marie gasping. 

"What?" she asked, seeing the pair staring with some sort of mixture of shock and sympathy on their faces. And they weren't staring at her, but behind her. 

Ronnie turned to see what they were looking at, but her view was blocked by Tom moving closer to her. She felt his hand on her, easing apart her lips, and she cursed him under her breath while she waited for the assault to begin.

Tom eased himself into position, throwing a taunting smirk at the two young women watching, knowing that they were envisaging themselves in Ronnie's position, kneeling and waiting for him to enter. He eased forward until the head of his cock was resting against Ronnie, right where he was holding her lips apart. He could feel her tense slightly as he brushed against her.

Ronnie could feel Tom pressing against her, lightly at first but with a gradually increasing pressure. She could feel her passage yielding to that pressure, letting Tom inside her. She could feel herself stretching, trying to accommodate him. 

God, he felt enormous. Just how big was he, anyway? She had a nasty suspicion that she now knew why Susan and Marie had been looking so shocked. Not because she was getting screwed in front of them but because of what was going to screw her.

Ronnie found she was groaning softly as Tom continued to advance inside her. He was already deeper inside her than she'd ever know before and he didn't seem to be stopping. She wriggled slightly, trying to adjust her position to allow him entry without breaking anything. She heard him laugh at her movements, and he pressed in even further.

Ronnie was just about ready to scream when she felt Tom's groin rubbing against her. Finally he had settled into place. If he ever goes to a prostitute, she thought viciously, I hope she charges him by the inch.

Now that Tom was fully inside her he seemed to be content to just hold there. 

"I like to give them some time to settle before I really start pleasuring them," Tom commented to Susan and Marie, waving towards where he was joined to Ronnie. "Wishing it was you now, are we, now that you've seen what I've got?"

Susan and Marie glanced at each other, neither willing to answer that question. If they told him what they really thought they were afraid he might get a little hostile. Tom being friendly was bad enough, as Ronnie was discovering.

Ronnie felt a firm slap on her bottom.

"Time to get the show on the road, honey," Tom said. "Let's go."

Ronnie squealed with dismay as she felt Tom pull back and then slam into her. God, he could bludgeon her to death if she wasn't careful. Hastily adjusting her stance, Ronnie did her best to meet Tom's mighty thrust.

It was fortunate that his hands were closed over her hips and helping hold her steady, as he was hitting her so hard she was afraid he'd be driving her around the campsite.

Slowly, too slowly for her peace of mind, Ronnie adjusted to Tom's eager presence. She found herself adjusting, rising to meet his thrusts, at last riding his cock instead of being battered by it. She was still squealing when he drove into her, but her squeals now had a touch of excitement to them. 

Now that his victim was participating properly and doing her part, Tom reached around and his big hands closed over her breasts, squeezing them. Then he set to work in earnest.

Susan and Marie watched, horrified, yet excited, as Tom pounded relentlessly against Ronnie. They could hear the note of excitement creeping into her squeals and knew that Tom has won this round. He had Ronnie cooperating eagerly, her bottom bouncing up and down enthusiastically as he took his pleasure from her.

Ronnie climaxed. Her body convulsed under Tom's driving need while she shrieked, a tempest of feeling running through her. She sagged forward, feeling Tom still moving inside her.

Then he was disengaging. Pulling free, Tom rolled Ronnie onto her back and hovered over her, cock lightly touching her while she slowly came down from her climax.

Ronnie blinked, trying to gather her wits about her. She was lying on her back with Tom leaning over her. Why? Her eyes flickered down to where he was just touching her pussy and she registered the size of the cock leaning towards her. Her squeal of alarm was apparently the signal that Tom had been waiting for and he drove vigorously forward, sliding back into her with a single movement.

Ronnie squealed and bucked under the new invasion, not wanting to take it lying down. Too late, an idle thought told her. That's exactly how you're taking it.

Tom was now pumping Ronnie steadily. Ronnie had had her climax and now he felt entitled to his. He moved harder and faster, driving himself towards his climax, feeling Ronnie once again responding, her sensitive flesh reacting to the continued assault.

Ronnie was lost again and she knew it. A climax was coming, sweeping down upon her rapidly, called by Tom's rampart rampage upon her body. She could feel him speeding up and tensing and she screamed as he let loose within her, hot seed flushing through her, and she screamed again as the hot splash triggered another climax.

Susan and Marie stood quietly, watching Tom disengaging and standing. He looked them over thoughtfully.

"Will you girls be staying long in the park?" he asked. "If so, it might be nice if we meet up for coffee again some night. I'll look forward to it."

Tom turned and vanished into the park while Marie and Susan crossed to help Ronnie to tidy herself up.



The Nature Hike



One hot day in the middle of a July, I decided to go shoot some scenery shots with my new Minolta x-700 camera with the 500mm lens. The wife and kids were out of town visiting thes, so I had the whole day to myself. I drove my pickup to a spot near the buckeye trail, where I had taken some scenery shots before. 

It was fairly early and the mist was still hanging in the valley below the ridge where I stood. You could tell it was gonna be a scorcher of a day. I hike about 30 minutes when a reached a clearing at the peak of the hill, from here you could get some great pictures, you could even see the trail come out into a clearing down below. I pull out my camera when I noticed something move below. 

It was a woman, in her thirties, with long blonde hair, sitting on a rock rummaging through her backpack. She had a body that wouldn't quit, and I noticed a stirring from my shorts. I panned the camera left and right she appeared to be alone. I figure to catch up to her I would need to hurry, I needed to make up about 20 minutes of trail. I put my camera away, and started the pursuit.

About 40 minutes later the trail come to a brook, off to the side was her backpack, she was kneeling next to it looking into the water. "Hi" I said, startled she fell into the water. It must've been cold, as she stood up her wet white T-shirt cling to her braless breast, her long blonde hair was totally soak, her shorts clung to her body, showing the outline of her womanhood, through the soft cotton material.

"Sorry" I said, "I didn't mean to startle you". She looked down at herself and started to laugh. I reached out my hand to help her out of the stream, while my eyes fixated on her breast. As I helped her out of the stream my eyes meet hers, they were a beautiful shade of green with a hint of blue. I stared at her for what seemed like hours, mesmerized by her beauty. Soaking wet she got out of the stream. She said she had brought no extra clothes, neither had I. I told her because it was my fault I felt it only right to help get her dry off to the right was a little clearing slightly hidden from the trail, we went over and I gathered some wood for a fire. 

I gave her my shirt, surprisingly she removed her T-shirt, "hell" she said " that shirt wasn't hiding much anyway" and put my shirt on. I got the fire going and put her T-shirt on a rock next to it. She removed her boots and socks and put them by the fire to dry. She opened her backpack and removed a blanket, which I placed on the ground, next to a big rock, and sat down with my back on the rock. She then took off her shorts, revealing the best looking panties I had seen in a while, a g-string with lace front panel. She put her shorts near the fire and sat next to me. 

In my camera bag was a deer skin wine flask filled with 10-year-old port. I took it out, took a swig and gave it to her. She took a swig, savoring the sweet taste, of the slightly stronger than wine, port. She began to tell me of her life, of how she sometimes needed to get away, how her husband wasn't attentive to her needs. We continued to drink, she was feeling the effects of the port. The conversation turned toward romance and sex. 

She got up to check her clothes, still not dry (thank god). She came back to sit with me, this time she sat in between my legs, her back against my chest, her head just under my chin.

Slowly, I stroked her hair, it smelled so good. I moved my hands to her shoulders and began to rub them; she leaned forward, moaning slightly. I ran my hands down her arms and then back to her shoulders. I softly blew onto the back of her neck, she moaned her acceptance. I allowed my hands to slowly move down her shirt, unbuttoning the buttons, she looked better in that shirt than I ever did. I began to slowly caress her breast, cupping them, running my fingers over the nipples. She is leaning back against me pressing her breast into my hands. My hand moved over her stomach. I whisper to her " Lori I want you", as my hand moves to the upper band of her panties, moving past the elastic and down to the top of her bush. 

She turned her face upwards and we kiss. I lick her lips and slowly insert my tongue into her mouth; she sucks on it gently. She tilts her head back and I kiss the hollow of her neck. My hand has reached her goldmine. I start to rub my fingers on her hole, persuading some moisture to come out, wetting my fingers with her moisture; I brought the moisture up to her clit. Stroking her clit ever so lightly, moving my finger up and down her button, she begins to rock her hips controlling the speed of my finger. She closes her eyes, I look at her breast rise and fall in time with her breathing, and I blow gently across the nipples. She rolled over on to her knees and gentle pushed me down on my back, she undid my shorts and removed them, I'm not wearing underwear and my cock lunges out rock hard. 

Her shirt is fully unbuttoned, she lays on top of me, pressing her breast into my chest. She puts my cock between her legs and begins to pump, I felt her moistness thru her panties, I whisper " remove them" and she does. Again she lays on top of me, my hard prick back between her legs, rubbing on her cunt, moistening my shaft, then rubbing on her clit. She reaches back between her ass cheeks, gripping my cock; she slides it into her pussy a little at a time until she has taken it all. She starts taking long slow strokes, bring her cunt to the point where I almost come out, then slamming it back in. Her pace is picking up, faster and faster, I kiss her deeply. I reach down and grab her ass cheeks, helping her ride my cock, telling her to make me cum. Nearing my climax I must take control. 

I roll onto her knees, her face is on the blanket, her ass is high in the air, and her legs are slightly spread, showing me that glistening cunt. I put my head against her cunt and glide it in. "Harder faster" she screams, "do me". I slap her ass leaving a red mark, she yipped. I slap the other cheek telling her to give it to me. I tell her she's making me cum, I pull out and let it rub in between her ass cheeks, shooting cum all over her back and into her hair, I rub my fingers in the cum, then put my fingers in her mouth, she sucks them clean. She turns around putting my softening member into her mouth tasting both our juices. With my cock fully inserted she flicks her tongue up and down the shaft, making me stiff again. She stops and begins to lick her way up my chest; she nibbles on my neck and then kisses me.

I lay her down on her back and kneel beside her. I caress her tits, slowly working my hands across her stomach toward her sweet box. As my hands get closer towards her bush, I begin to suck on her tits, licking around the outer edge flicking my tongue across the nipples. Her right hand cups my balls; her left hand begins to caress her own tits. My hand is working on her clit now as my tongue begins it journey to the valley of sweetness. Her hips start to gyrate as her clit grows with excitement. My tongue reaches her clit and I begin to suck and lick it gingerly, kneading it with my lips. I slowly insert a finger into her cunt, short slow strokes, just teasing her cunt with the tip of my finger; she takes my half-hard cock into her mouth to muffler her cries of excitement. 

It begins to grow. I straddle her in a 69 position with me on top. I begin to like her hole going further between her legs. Down passed her hole just above her anus licking and probing, she moans out, I feel the vibration on my shaft. Back to her clit I began my quest, with vigor, licking and sucking. Putting two fingers into her cunt, I slowly start to fuck her, gauging her reaction. She begins pumping her hips, higher and higher off the ground, she tries to scream but her mouth is full of my cock. Juices pour out of her vagina, running down over her asshole; down between her asscheeks, I remove my hard cock from her mouth, and kiss her deeply. 

I climb between her legs and insert my cock into her swollen, pulsating cunt. Her pussy muscles are still contracting from her orgasm, I start to pump her, raising her legs onto my shoulders. Harder and harder like an animal. I pump her she pumps me back, light two-prize fighter exchanging jabs. I pull out and climb up on her chest, with me pumping my junk, she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, licking the head, I start to cum, all over her face some in her mouth, she takes me deep, sucking me dry. She continues to suck till I start to soften. I roll over exhausted. She cuddles up next to me, putting her head on my chest. I mention the fact that we were still naked, she doesn't care, but realizes it would be awkward to get caught like this. Her clothes are dry, she gives me back my shirt, and we both get dress, we have some more port and lay back down on the blanket and cuddle.

Looking up we both fall asleep, ii awaken to find the day has turned to night, I wake her with a kiss, she smiles. We lay there looking at the stars. We both know that it must end but neither of us want it to. We gather our things and hike back to my truck. I give a ride back to her car, neither of us breaking the silence. We both get out and I walk her over to her car, we kiss and hug, neither wanting to let go, both of us knowing that this is the end, it would never work. 

With tears in our eyes we say goodbye, it would never be as good as what had just happened, but we will always have the memories.



The Nature of Attraction



This is the sixth of my 12 Days of Christmas Improv audios. They don't have anything to do with Christmas but I set a goal of doing an audio a day for the 12 days leading up to Christmas. Failed miserably but since many really good improvs came out of the attempt I am calling it a win :)

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Click Here to listen. (16.5 min/mp3)

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The Nature of Getting What You Want



September 16 2008.

By the time Kayla roused the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. It shone pink through her eyelids as she lay quietly thinking about the previous night, not wanting to leave her memories. Khree proved himself to be enthusiastic and talented in bed. Kayla came so many times that she lost count before she fell into a sex coma. She rolled over and opened her eyes. Khree was already awake and looking at her seriously.

'Do you trust me?' he asked.

'Based on some of the stuff I let you do to me last night,' Kayla grinned like an idiot 'I would have to say yes,'

'Then look at those flowers,' Khree gestured at a bunch of dead roses on Kayla's dressing table. 

Suddenly the roses were beautiful, fresh buds again.

Kayla was stunned.

'Furthermore,' Khree turned a large silver ring on his finger round and touched it against Kayla's arm. She came like lightning, gasped and flopped backward.

'How the hell did you do that?' she choked trying to recover from such sudden ecstasy.

'It's an enchanted ring. I made it for Casanova. That man was all about quantity not quality ...' Khree looked dreamy for a moment.

'What the hell are you?' Kayla had recovered from the orgasm but was now staggering under the shock of what she had just seen and experienced.

'There's not a word in your language, but I think 'djinn' would be close,'

Kayla shrunk as far away from Khree on the bed as she thought she could without falling off, but gravity started to catch and she was about to tumble off the bed when Khree grabbed her.

'Look, I mean you no harm. I'm lonely, you're lonely; I just want to help you,'

Kayla listened, not as stunned by Khree's revelations than she felt she should be. Things had felt so unreal since Darryl left her. This was probably a hallucination ... or not?

'I can give you anything you ever wanted,'

Kayla immediately pictured herself pregnant, holding a baby.

'All you have to do is let me stay with you two more nights, and eat three special meals that I cook. It will ease my isolation and then you can have your heart's desire.'

What would it hurt to go along? There was nothing in the world left for Kayla to lose regardless of the outcome of this adventure.

'Fine, just don't turn me into a toad or something,' she visibly relaxed.

'Then slaggadh ne keranghe, the deal is done,' Khree smiled 'now let me kiss you again,' 

Kayla complied.

'You know there are lots of other things I can do; the things we can do together are infinite ...' Khree shimmered and in bed beside her he became twins and then one changed before her eyes into Rad Smith, Kayla's favourite movie star. Rad began working above her waist, Khree below tonguing her and gently probing with his fingers. Rad kissed her and massaged her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. Then Khree slipped himself inside her arse and Rad, her pussy, both pumped away till she felt the metal against her leg again and she came so hard that she saw blinding phosphenes for ten minutes.

The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring every fantasy Kayla had ever had. Khree became a football team, her high school best friend, a supermodel she had secretly desired. Khree had spirited her away to have sex in a prison and in a tropical sea.

By late afternoon, she was exhausted and sore. As the light started to fade, Khree said it was time for the first of the three special meals. 

A storm was coming and the clouds were a disturbing green colour. Kayla sat on the veranda whilst Khree cooked. Latin American music was coming from across the road. She found it soothing. The evening air was filled with the twin perfumes of jasmine and orange blossoms from her front garden. All lulled her till she was daydreaming. Then the hail hit. The sound of ice on corrugated iron snapped Kayla out of her trance. Spell broken, she went back inside.

Dinner was on the table. Had she been outside that long? It was vegetable stew and absolutely delicious. It was full of things Kayla did not recognise and strange spices. When she asked about them, Khree said he had gone a great distance to get them. 

September 15 2008 (the night before). 

Kayla sat at a table in the pub, poking at her lemonade with her straw. Slowly it dawned on her that she was completely hollow inside. No love, no hate. Her personality was gone and all that was left was her depression. No wonder no one wanted to be around her. 

Then her ex-husband of three weeks, Darryl, sat down at a table three across from her with his noticeably pregnant girlfriend Sharon. After a minute or so, Darryl left Sharon and went to the bar. He flirted with the barmaid outrageously, who seemed very flattered by his attention. 

Darryl was a handsome man with a great deal of personal magnetism; that's why Kayla had fallen for him. He was also a charming bastard but the bastard part informed pretty much all his actions. It occurred to her that all that charm had encouraged her to inaction when she discovered his true self. Furthermore, Kayla realised inaction seemed to have become her default life position. She watched Darryl give the barmaid his number behind Sharon's back, and then return to the table with drinks, acting like nothing happened. She decided at that moment she was going to be more proactive. 

The sight of Sharon's belly was hard for Kayla to take though, given her own recently discovered infertility. Thankfully the couple didn't seem to notice Kayla. She stared at the dove of peace tattoo on Sharon's upper arm, absentmindedly played with her long plait and thought about starting a war. 

She was downing her last drink when a voice startled her.

'She's not worth it.'

Horrified, Kayla looked up to see a strangely familiar looking man. It took her a second to realise that with his dark hair, green eyes and pale freckled skin, the reason he seemed familiar was because he resembled a male version of Kayla, herself. She was a little taken aback. 

'You don't know what I was thinking.' she stammered.

'You were contemplating having a violent cat fight with that cheap looking woman wearing the dove tattoo.' He pointed at Sharon. 

Touché!

This exchange made Kayla smile, something she hadn't done in weeks, so she asked him to sit. He introduced himself as Khree. They drank and talked till closing. There was something irresistible about Khree — he even smelled good. Kayla decided this was her moment to do something and asked Khree to come home with her. He readily agreed.

The humidity wrapped them like a woollen blanket as they left the pub. The weather had been strange recently and an unseasonal storm was building. They strolled through Kayla's part of town, through the crumbling federation style houses, barely talking, sexual tension mounting. By the time they got to her home, the pressure was unbearable. Khree exploded first, pinning Kayla hard against the veranda rail and kissing her roughly on the mouth. The first storm winds started to blow up, bringing with it the scent of night blooming things. Kayla fumbled with the door keys, Khree kissing the back of her neck. They fumbled in the door, kissing more, and then undressing. He nuzzled her breasts, she fondled his hard cock. Thunder boomed in the west. 

'I want to see your arse,' Khree turned her round and then bent her over the couch.

Before she could protest, he entered her from behind, full length in one go. He thrust into her violently; Kayla loving every moment of it. As she could sense he was about to come, she felt something cold press against her thigh and she abruptly had a blinding orgasm, Khree, just moments later. As they curled up on the couch to recover, it began to rain.

September 17 2008 (the day after)

Kayla woke in Khree's arms, feeling strangely secure. He was already awake, holding her. He conjured breakfast in bed for the two of them, a bouquet of freesias for Kayla (her favourite) and they ate together. She was so comfortable that she never wanted to leave the bed, so they didn't for hours, screwing when the mood took them and exploring each other's bodies in depth. After that string of five orgasms, Kayla vowed to Khree later, that she'd like to marry that ring. 

After they did get up, they simply sat around the house for the rest of day, talking. Khree was reticent to discuss himself or his powers, preferring to have Kayla provide all the conversation. He possessed a knack for getting her to open up about herself, something that she found refreshing after Darryl's giant ego.

Kayla went for a walk before dinner. The sun was going down and another storm was brewing. She underestimated how close it was and half-way home a torrential downpour soaked her totally. He must have heard her coming because Khree met Kayla at the door and he zapped her into a peach silk kimono. 

Dinner was another delicious meal. It was stew too, but with meat this time. She faintly recognised the meat, but before she could open her mouth to ask what it was, Khree said it was rabbit. She recalled then, her mother giving it to her when she was a child. 

They were just settling down for the evening when there was a knock on the door. It was Darryl; he was drunk and not impressed when Kayla wouldn't let him in. She tried to shut the door but he shoved hard and burst into the room on the force of that push. 

'You fucking slut!' he spat when he saw Khree. Darryl took a swing at Kayla and then disappeared. Stunned, Kayla looked at Khree.

'Where did you send him?'

'Some place no one ever comes back from,' stated Khree with a smile. 

Kayla thought on this development a moment and realised that it did not bother her much. He was gone; gone for good. All she felt was relief. 

They went back to their evening like nothing had happened.

September 18 2008

On waking her head was on Khree's chest and she was listening to what appeared to be two heartbeats. Kayla felt happier than she had since before the first time she caught Darryl cheating. Could she be falling in love with Khree? Was love with this being even possible? 

Around midday, Darryl's mother rang looking for him. Kayla felt a prick of conscience when she told her that she hadn't seen him. She liked her former mother and wished her no harm ... Then Sharon rang and started abusing her. For a moment she wished Sharon dead, rotted, gone but then another prick of conscience reminded her of Sharon's pregnancy and her own pain and then things derailed and she yelled back at Sharon that Darryl was probably off screwing someone else and then hung up the phone. 

Flustered, she sought comfort in Khree. Kissing her tenderly, they embraced on the couch and gently caressing and disrobing, he kissed the length of her belly, then tenderly licked her velvet with his tongue. Khree turned round, Kayla took him into her mouth and sucked him till he came, metallic and sharp, in her mouth. She cried with joy when she finally felt that cold metal pressing against her thigh. They lay naked together for hours afterward.

Before the last of the three special meals, Kayla went walking again, this time thinking. A storm was building in the west again, but for the moment, a fragrant twilight closed around her. She decided she was going to ask Khree to stay. She was not sure how it was going to work, but she was no longer feeling depressed and she wanted him, loved him and would be wrenched by his leaving. She couldn't face that again.

As she walked in the front door, she was seduced by the most heavenly smell coming from the kitchen. Dinner was stew again. This time she recognised the meat immediately; it was pork. 

Strong winds began to rattle the windows as they sat down at the table.

Khree had given her a huge bowl and ate heartily along with her. The bottom of the bowl was approaching and she decided to tackle one last, large piece of meat and then that would be it. She flipped the chunk and saw a dove of peace tattoo on it. Her stomach reacted automatically. She threw up over the table before she could stop herself. Covered in vomit, she scrambled to get away from the table, getting tangled and tripping over the chair. She pulled herself back up to standing and turned on Khree.

'I ate Sharon ... I ate Sharon ...' Kayla's voice rising. She tried to wrap herself mentally around what had happened 'You made me eat Sharon!'

Thunder boomed.

'I had to,' said Khree, leaning back on his chair in a strangely casual manner 'to make you like me ... that is how you become one of us ... first the plants, then the animals and then one of your own. You wanted Sharon dead; you want to be with me too, I know, I read your thoughts. Now we can be together forever.' 

Kayla stood, bolted to the spot in her horror. All her plans dissolved. He had betrayed her trust, not the same way Darryl had, but it felt the same. 

'I have powers now?' Kayla was staring him down and gesticulating maniacally 'I have powers now? ... I can have anything I want? I tell you what I want! I want you to go the hell back to where you came from!"

Khree screamed, there was a flash of light, the smell of sulphur and Khree's seat was empty and singed.

Across the road, a jacaranda tree exploded with the force of a lightning strike.

April 17 2009

Kayla lay on the couch, feeling like a beached whale. Her huge pregnant belly was already stretched so tight, she could barely stand it. The baby kicked.

'You're a busy bubba today, aren't you?' she crooned. The baby kicked again and she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge for liquorice all-sorts. A bowl of them floated across the room and landed on her bump. She looked at the bump, vexed.

'Bubba, what did I tell you about levitating things' 

Then she ate one anyway and flipped on the television. It was going to be a long two months till this little creature was born ...



The Nature of Men



A lot of you ladies have done a wonderful job writing from the man's point of view. You've shown great insight. I am betting, however, that a few of you would be interested in a greater understanding of men for your -ahem- "Writing purposes."*Grins *

Well, here's a little information for you. Remember, these are generalities and will apply in varying degrees and there will be exceptions. However, I think you'll find these things hold true for most men. I must warn you, I ramble a bit. Don't hold it against me. Please do comment. Tell me how wrong I am or what a revelation this is for you. I love that!

On to the details.

MEN ARE TESTOSTERONE DRIVEN. Sounds simple, doesn't it? But think about what this really means. Testosterone is what makes us men. It controls our sex drive. It causes our aggressive, predatory natures. It makes us notice you ladies and respond in the childish manner that we do. You wonder why we like sports so much? Because it's an outlet for our testosterone driven aggressiveness. Why are we always looking at women (or in some cases, other women)? We are responding to a hormone inspired reaction. Yes, we can control it to some degree, but not entirely. If you want to understand better, ladies, try taking steroids for a while (Joke! Don't do it! Really, I'm kidding!).

I must admit, I'm no biologist, so this part was pretty bare bones.

MEN ARE TERRITORIAL. You probably already knew this. We are the masters of all that we survey in our minds. Testosterone makes us "hunt" women. This little detail makes us protect them. Often in ways you would not expect. Have you ever seen 2 men getting territorial over pretty much anything? (Hey! That's my chair/woman/remote control!) Ever notice how there's a lot of bluster but little actual violence (if any at all)? That's because it's all about dominance. We don't want to hurt our rival. We want him to acknowledge that he's lower in the pecking order than we are. Ever notice a man will keep fighting over something long after it is plain he has lost? That's because men respect tenacity. Keep fighting against all odds and it shows you are worthy of respect and you will be higher in the pecking order than if you went down with one punch/insult/challenge. This is also why men can get along together after a big fight, physical, verbal or otherwise. We have established our place and acknowledge it for the moment. The issue is over and we move on. This does not mean that the resolution of the challenge will be quick. It could take days, weeks, months or years. It simply means that once it is over, it is really over. If it's quick, that's a good thing, though.

This is also why we don't ask for directions. We are masters of all we survey. We don't need no stinkin' directions!

MEN ARE PROBLEM SOLVERS. This means we are analytical and logical in nature. We like things we can measure, quantify and control. This causes some interesting effects. Should you come to us with a problem you have just given us a big compliment. You have just said, "Hey, you're a smart, capable person. I can't fix this, but I think you can." Now, if you come to us with a problem and want us to "just listen," you have a problem. If you tell us of a problem then we want to solve it. If you're upset, then there must be a problem and we want to solve it. Especially if you're upset. If we solve the problem for you, in our minds, then there is no longer a need to be upset and you can get back to being happy. Plus, we have just demonstrated competence, which makes our testosterone happy.

Problems arise when you just want to vent. If all you want is for us to listen and have no interest in our opinion or expertise on how to solve your problem then you have just given us a big time insult. You have taken back the compliment and in effect said, "You are not competent to help me with my problem. I'll go find someone else who can." NOT good. Ever notice your male friends hate it when you do this? This is why. This makes us upset and makes us want to defeat whoever it is you do get to help us. Thank our testosterone for this.

Now, if we cannot solve a problem, we minimize it. "That's not a big problem," we'll say. In men's language this is us paying you a compliment. We are saying, "You're competent. You can deal with this." Trust me, to a man this is a huge compliment. 

So, if you have a big problem and want to vent, men are not the ideal sounding board. Why would you tell us of a problem you don't want solved? To us this does not make sense. Thus, it must be a challenge to our domain.

If we don't understand something, we fear it. How do you control something you don't understand? This makes it a threat and it must be defeated so that we can feel safe and comfortable again. This causes problems with women, since we don't understand you and our testosterone driven, territorial nature makes us want you around. You don't act like men and we don't understand why. Alright, LOGICALLY we understand you're no men and that you are going to perceive and act upon things differently than us. However, if you do so in a manner that defies our version of logic then you are a threat to our security. We must destroy that threat in order to show competence and keep our place in the pecking order. But we want you around still. The more women we have around, the higher we are in the pecking order. Our instincts are at war. See the problem?

This is also another reason men don't ask for directions. We can find our own way! We ARE competent, dammit! Maps are for people who don't know what they are doing! Stop telling us to ask for help and admit that we are incompetent! Grrrr! :P

MEN ARE LAZY. We want to put out the least effort and get the greatest result. A logical desire, eh? Basically, this means if it's not an immediate need or a hormone driven desire then it's not important. Why didn't we take out the garbage when you asked us to? Because it wasn't an immediate need. So, why bother?

MEN DON'T HANDLE EMOTIONS WELL. Probably because they are not logical. Tell me if you've seen this one. A man comes home and plops down in front of the T.V. or the computer or whatever and proceeds to vegetate. You ask how his day was and he grunts out a 1 word answer while consuming some kind of snack or drink. He's not being lazy. He's processing the events of the day, putting everything into context and ordering his emotions that every event of the day caused. DO NOT INTERRUPT THIS PROCEDURE! This is a very important process, very delicate and easily contaminated. Do so at your own risk. We can get quite snippy when processing. This is because we have to start all over again if interrupted. We HATE having to start all over again! You ladies probably process emotions at the time you have them. Us men are less likely to do so. We'll be looking for the logical thing first. 

Finally, MEN FOCUS. We do not multitask well. We see you ladies driving while putting on make-up and listening to the radio while chatting with your pals on your cell phone and we are in awe (and in fear for our lives). We can only do one thing at a time and it amazes us how you can do many. We don't understand how you do it, which vexes us to no end. You are showing a sign of competence of which we are just not capable and it makes us nervous. Especially that driving part. Seriously, for our sanity, when you're driving, limit your multitasking to listening to the radio or talking to the other passengers. Otherwise you will find us becoming agitated and hard to deal with.

That said, when we focus on something, our attention is undivided and making us finish whatever it is we are focusing on quickly and completely. At least as far as that individual process is concerned. Don't ask us to see the bigger picture. Our focusing brains lock onto one detail at a time. We can lose ourselves in minutia! Sometimes it's good to remind us that other things need to be accomplished, even though doing so might annoy us. In general, though, let us play with the minutia. We're happy while we think we're accomplishing something.

I hope this little essay has helped you understand the nature of men better. It's not perfect. I'm no scholar and I was basing it all on life experience, which, at 32, is not so great as many of you have. Still, if it provokes discussion and potential understanding, then I have accomplished my goal.