I cook Mistress’s breakfast. She gives me instructions while I work. If she rings the bell I have 10 seconds to respond and be kneeling at her feet. I prepare nothing for myself today. I don’t dare to without instructions.
I wait at attention while Mistress eats. She eats slowly. I imagine her savoring each bite. I don’t dare look at her to verify this. She finishes. I clear her plate. The leftover food makes my mouth water. I watch it slide into the drain and feed the garbage disposal.
Mistress departs. My mind races. Remember to kneel and bow… every time. Leaving or entering the room. When I approach her. Remember. Keep the chains silent while in her presence. Don’t look at her.
My stomach growls. I tune it out. I wash the breakfast dishes and cooking tools. While she is not present I can relax the chains. This makes things easier. The entire house is freezing. I put 2 and 2 together. This is the comfortable temperature for her clothing. It doesn’t matter how it feels to me and it probably amuses her more when I suffer.
The bell rings. The living room. I quickly dry my hands and scurry in that direction. As I near the room I pull the chains taut, careful to avoid making a sound. I drop to my knees as I enter, pressing my forehead to the floor and extending my hands above my head, palms down. 1, 2, 3. I hop up and approach her. At her feet I drop to my knees and repeat the position. Thwack. I wince. Her crop finds my back.
“12 seconds, slave. Is it your intent to try my patience?” My face turns red. I disappoint myself. My mind pictures her face right now. I quickly clear my mind. Attempting an erection would be bad.
“Lick my feet, slave. Touch my skin with anything but your tongue and you’ll get the crop.”
She extends one leg out to me. I carefully unzip her boot and slide it down her leg. I feel my sex twitch. I close my eyes. I quickly snag my thumb on the chain between the nipple clamps. I grit my teeth and wince in pain. It works. My sex falls limp within its tube. Thwack. I whimper. The crop strikes my arm.
I rise and adjust. The ankle chain clinks against itself. Thwack. The crop finds my thigh. I carefully place my hands behind my head. Mistress leans forward, key in hand. She unlocks the first clamp. Her finger dials it tighter. Tighter. Tears fill my eyes. The pain throbs with a pulse in my brain. Click. She unlocks the other clamp. Tighter. Tighter. I whimper. Click.
“That should keep you from playing with those nipples, slave.”
My brain is so out of control with pain that I can’t think. She shakes her foot and clears her throat. My hands tremble. Carefully, I retract her stocking. Gently, slowly, do not touch her. I slide it down gently. She moans. I carefully fold the stocking and place it on the table.
She slides back and slumps into the couch. The angle of her leg naturally raises her foot. I lower my chest and tilt my head. I flatten my tongue against the sole of her foot. Pressure. I slide my tongue along its contours. She moans. I can’t focus, my nipples throb. I release myself to instinct. This isn’t new to me, I’ve done it hundreds of times before.
My tongue glides across her arch. I press and slide in circular motions. I hear the leather of the couch squeak as she adjusts her torso. The clamps do me a favor, preventing my mind from wandering. I barely notice her hand move inside her coat and begin to rub. My tongue circles the heel. Firm, circular. Her moans are deep. My tongue traces an outline of her foot. It glides along each toe. I dare not kiss or suck, tongue only.
I finish the foot. Mistress wipes the bottom of her foot on my back. I rise and reach for her other boot. Smack. Her foot kicks me in the upper arm. My arm throbs in pain.
I get on all 4’s. I feel her boot push my thigh. I adjust my legs to the correct angles.
“Stupid, slave. You plan to let me sit here with a cold leg? I expected more from you.”
Thwack. I feel the crop on my ass. I wince under its sting. Thwack. Another bite. Thwack. Thwack. I shudder under the blows. I whimper. Thwack. Thwack.
The blows move around. Thwack. Thwack. I let out a cry as they find my back. Thwack. Thwack. I feel my skin pulse. The cold makes the sting worse. My body throbs at every impact point. Thwack. Thwack. Mistress chooses her spots carefully. I feel like I’m one of those beginner’s BDSM safety charts. She works me over until the tears flow. She slumps back into the couch again.
I prostrate myself into position 1. She digs her heel into my hand. I muffle a cry.
“Apologies insult me, slave. Do you think that I acknowledge that you have feelings?”
She twists her heel once more. She frightens me. She lifts her boot. I retrieve the stocking from the table. My hands shake as my body trembles in pain. I roll back the stocking and carefully place it over her toe. I pull it wide and guide it up her leg. Above the knee. Up her thigh. The boot follows. I guide it onto her leg. I straighten its upper and slowly zip it up.
Her scent reaches my nose. Her sex hungers. This touches her deeply. A new side of Mistress… one I have never seen before.
I carefully unzip her other boot. I guide it off her leg. The stocking follows. Gently, carefully. I lower my head and lick. The clamps distract me enough to avoid temptation. My tongue traces the contours of her foot. She moans. I work the sole. The couch squeaks. She’s rubbing herself. I tune it out. My tongue presses on her arch. Her heel. I glide along the edges and give attention to each toe. I finish. She shoves my face to the side with her foot and wipes it on my back.
I retrieve the stocking and guide it up her leg. Her scent is stronger. I replace the boot and zip it up. I prostrate myself again into position 1. I wait. She rings the bell.
“Fetch my tablet, slave.”
I rise slowly and make my way to the hallway. Before leaving I kneel, bow, and extend my arms. 1, 2, 3,. I rise and scurry to the bedroom. I find her table and return. I kneel and bow again as I enter. 1, 2, 3. I approach her and find the position again. 1, 2, 3. I rise slightly and present the tablet to her.
“Take care of your chores.” She waves her hand to dismiss me. My stomach growls. The crop finds my arm. I wince.
“That’s disgusting, slave. Keep your desires to yourself.”
I rise slowly. At the edge of the room, I kneel and bow. 1, 2, 3. I head off to my chores. The chains make everything more difficult. My skin stings along the edges of the shackles. The friction is unpleasant and rubs the skin raw.
The pain in my body slowly grows. The bruises from the crop. The nipple clamps. The shackles. It clouds my mind. I can sense a change in my mind…