The Mistress and Her Footslave


brian-atwood-ss-09-jon-kortajarena-rene-russo-by-tony-duran-_32447460

Diana stepped out of the spa inside her cavernous master bathroom, and took a fluffy, white towel to dry her naked body.  After hanging the dampened towel, she grabbed a bottle of lotion nearby and applied a generous amount to her palm before massaging her well-toned skin.

She ran her fingers through her water-darkened, blonde hair and took a brush to remove the tangles. She sat on the cushioned stool in front of the vanity mirror and faced the bright, open room.

Diana took care of her feet.  If it was one thing she obsessed about, other than having ample money to accommodate her lavish lifestyle, it was to take care of her feet.  She took an exotic bottle of oil now in her hand and squeezed out an amount, as she crossed her left leg over her right leg to reach her foot.  The oil worked itself freely in between her toes, and spilled its way over the pad that formed the ball of her foot.  Her fingers massaged the oil deeper into the

skin and smoothed it back to reach her heel.  She took an extra amount in her hand and applied it to the top of her foot, massaging from her spread-out toes, and all the way around to the anklebones that elegantly protruded from each side of her foot.  She rubbed her hands dry with a towel and extended out her foot into the air to take a look.

Outside the spa room window, Thompson took a break from his gardening and watched her routine hypnotically.  The progress on maintaining the house foundation hedges slowed considerably as he watched, wantonly.  He closed his eyes and imagined himself rubbing the oil into her feet with his own hands; but he quickly reminded himself to look again into the window and watch every second of her foot oiling routine.  Holding a pair of hedge trimmers in his hands, he took in her well-groomed nudity before eyeing her foot that was pointed in his direction.  Diana did not even appear to think about glancing through the window beyond her outstretched foot.  She studied her toenails that were polished to a creamy, white, and shiny appearance.  The skin of her foot was smooth and rich.  Her toes wriggled without friction, like there was an invisible layer of satin between them.

Happy with her left foot, Diana reversed the crossings of her legs, opening her thighs in the direction of her gardener, giving him a glimpse of her flower.  She reached for the oil again to work the same routine into her right foot.  Thompson’s mind ached hard.  She would never let his work-worn hands touch her graceful feet.  Still, that oil would do wonders for the condition of his hands over time.  He was sure of that.  Maybe some day he could … but he was losing focus again.  He reminded himself to pay full attention to the foot oiling routine so that when the day would come he would be ready to apply the oil just as she liked.  First it would go over her toes and in between them.  He would flick his oiled fingers around each metatarsal.  He would make sure to caress the anklebones protruding on the insides and outsides of her feet.  Three of his fingers would circulate oil around the topsides of her feet, where the top tendons worked under the plumped blood vessels just below the surface of the skin.

Diana finished her routine by extending out her right foot, as she had done with her left.   Thompson’s trousers bulged at the front.  His crotch hurt as he sensed the foot oil massage routine ending.  Diana stood and took the blow dryer to her shoulder-length hair.  She stood naked holding the dryer and brushed her sandy-blonde hair to full-volume.  When she was finished she walked nude through the door to her bedroom, and then turned to enter her walk-in closet.  Thompson shifted his position several feet down along the length of the house, clamoring through the bushes to find the window to his Mistress’s bedroom.  He would have to wait until she emerged from the closet, so he fantasized what she would be wearing.  Today she was likely to be headed to the beach with her rich friends, so he was not surprised to see her emerge wearing a black, stringed bikini.  The bottom piece was a thong that lined into her ass in the back, but she slipped on a matching black skirt to look presentable after she looked at herself in the mirror.

Diana disappeared back into the closet, and Thompson reached for his crotch as the images from the foot oil routine remained in his mind.  He touched his jeans with fingers on both sides of the zipper in front, and he waited for Diana to reappear.  She came out wearing a stone-colored, crocheted top over her bikini.  She held a pair of bronze, strappy sandals that were supported with three and a half inch heels, and jeweled with a round piece of jade gemstone in the top center.  Thompson’s penis almost crushed through the denim of his jeans at the sight of the sandals, and he let out a moan as he felt the surge that was terribly impeded.

She sat on the edge of the bed and slid one foot under the straps of the sandal as Thompson watched through the window from the outside.  She hugged her leg up close to her with the inside of her arm as her fingers worked the leather strap of the sandal around her ankles, and into the little silver buckle.  She secured the buckle and flexed her toes to settle her foot into the sandal, and reached for the other to finish getting dressed.  Her second foot slipped into the sandal and was soon surrounded by straps and the gem that adorned them.  Her toes flexed into position as she angled her ankle to accommodate the fastening of the shiny little buckle.

She stood up from the bed and headed out of the bedroom.  Her pelvis swayed to accommodate the height of her heels.  Thompson jolted himself to react quickly.  He would have maybe three, or four minutes at most, to get ready for his Mistress.  He dropped the hedge clippers in the rear lawn and began to run from the back of the house to the front.  The erection in his pants throbbed awkwardly as he tried to accommodate the gait of his jogging.  His testicles tugged, and he felt a sickening in his abdomen.

Diana put her purse over her shoulder, and reached in to take out a tin of Altoids.  Her fingers took two of them to suck on.  Her cell phone rang as she headed for the front door.  “Hi Wend’.  Yeah.  I’m headed out the door right now.  I’ll see you in 15 minutes? Perfect!  You can show me what you bought when …”

Thompson rushed around the front corner of the house.  He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it behind the front shrubs.  He unbuttoned his jeans, lowered the zipper and did a frantic dance to escape his pants.  He needed to pull off his gardening boots to free the jeans from around his ankles and he desperately tugged at them.  The boots and jeans came off all in one assembly, and he hurriedly balled them into a pile before tossing them behind the shrubs near his shirt.  He pulled down his boxers, finally allowing his hardened penis and engorged testicles to launch freely into the open air.  He slowed to a reasonable pace and tossed his underwear up against the house by the rest of his clothes.

The yellow convertible Corvette was parked in the circular driveway.  Thompson kept it clean for his Mistress, and it shined so that you could see the reflection of the paver stone surface it was parked on.  His breath heaved as he stood naked between the car and the front door of the house.  The lasting image of his Mistress entered his thoughts before he laid himself directly in the path she would need to walk.  He rested with his back on the ground, and with his erection teeming upward.  His head turned sideways to watch for her. Would she see him this time?  The oversized front door opened and Diana was still on the phone as she stepped out of the house wearing her bronze high-heeled sandals.  His hard-on flinched as he tensed the muscles in his groin while looking at her.

Diana fished her keys from her purse.  Her feet were supported at the angle her sandals provided.  Her calves were defined into a glamorous shape as a result of the position of her feet.  She locked the house door, and turned toward the driveway to walk.  She said goodbye to her friend, ended the call, and addressed her attention to placing her phone into the purse around her shoulder.

The clicking of her heels on the hard paver stones became louder and louder as she got nearer to him.  He could see her toes flexing to propel her steps.  On her right foot, she wore a silver ring on the middle toe.  He believed that just for the brief fractions of a second that each sandal shifted from the force of her steps, that he could almost see imperceptible space between the tops of her feet and the sandal straps containing them.  As she stepped closer, he studied how her foot elegantly merged from her perfect ankles up into the smooth shins of a woman.

His Mistress did not break her stride as she neared.  He pleaded silently; “Please notice me this time.”  But would she, now?  Especially after all the other times he had served her faithfully, seemingly unnoticed?  She didn’t glance down as her step pressed the heel of her sandal into his torso.  Her foot rocked, and transferred the weight of her frame from her heel, over her delicate arch, and to the ball of her foot as she leveraged off his naked body.  He winced at the pain it caused to have the spike of her heel dig into his sternum, and then to have the front of her foot stomp the side of his chest.  But he breathed in the scent of the oil that he knew covered the skin of her feet, and that comforted him through the pain.  Now as she had passed him to the car, his loins ached as she did not look back.

Diana opened the car door and sat in the driver’s seat.  She swung her feet over the opening and on
Diana pressed her right foot onto the brake pedal.  The three right-most toes whitened at the stress from the force she applied from her legs, through her feet and onto the pedal to hold it down.  From the pressure applied, the silver ring on the middle toe indented into the skin of the boney phalange it surrounded.  The ignition switch fired the car engine to a roar, and Diana moved her hand to the shifter.  She put on her oversized, tortoise-shell sunglasses and shifted the car into drive.  She looked into the rearview mirror at herself to make sure her lipstick looked OK.to the floorboard inside, and shut the door.  Thompson dutifully rolled himself up onto his hands and knees and kept low as he scampered naked in front of the yellow Corvette to lie down in its path.  He positioned his poor, nude body in front of the driver’s side tire.  “Mistress, please acknowledge me,” he pleaded again to himself.

“Mistress … “ pleaded Thompson with an open-ended gasp.

The car rolled forward, slowly to start.  Thompson eyed the front wheel progressing toward him.  He envisioned Diana’s foot slowly releasing the brake pedal and motioning over to hover on top of the car’s accelerator.  Her right foot would pivot in the sandal heel, and shift over to the right.  He thought about her tanned feet contrasting under the bronze leather straps that held the sandal’s jade-colored gem in the center.

The tire approached Thompson, and the tread engaged the skin of his body, and imprinted its zigzagging pattern.  The car lurched upward on the front driver’s side as it lifted from the tire proceeding to roll over him.  Diana eyed the clock in the car to guess the time she would arrive at the beach to meet her friends.  They had nothing planned other than to sun their bodies and gossip together.

She ran over Thompson … and Thompson cried out with a muffled cough as air was completely expelled from his lungs by the weight of the car.  The tire pressed down into him.  Diana searched quickly for the phone in her purse as the car dropped back down after running over Thompson.  She was the typically-distracted-while-driving woman, and always wanted to gab.  She pressed down onto the gas pedal with her sandal-bound foot to gain speed exiting the driveway.  Her big right toe lifted slightly off the bed of the sandal as her outer-right most toes pressured the pedal deeper.

As he made a gasp that was a mix of anticipation, horror, and ecstasy, the rear driver’s side tire of the cute Corvette crushed Thompson, now lifting the back end of the car up higher into the air before dropping it back down as it rolled over the poor foot slave.  His eyes rolled backwards as he came into a warm, unconscious space and released himself.

Thompson’s poor naked and crumpled body lay lifeless on the paver stones, and baked under the heat of the mid-day sun.  His limbs sprawled across the ground.  Hours passed from the time his Mistress ran over him with her car, but his eyes flittered at the sound of an irresponsible noise in the distance that sounded like rubber screeching against road.  He heard the familiar growling engine of the Corvette soon after.  She was returning through the streets of the gated community.

Excitement burned through his abdomen and loins, as he thought about her feet frantically controlling the mechanical beast she was riding.  He began to perk, starting with an erection reborn.  The energy from his crotch raced torrentially through his veins and plumped his body back to life.  Hurriedly and faithfully, Thompson eagerly stumbled to the entrance of the driveway as he heard the Corvette zooming closer.  He laid himself down naked again in its path.  “She will recognize me this time,” he comforted himself and waited.

Diana, clutched the shopping bag on the front passenger seat inside the car as she aggressively cornered onto her street.  The bag was shifting from the hard turn she was making and she didn’t want her new dress to fall onto the floor.  She and her friends had decided on an impromptu shopping spree after sunning themselves.  She glanced at the bag as she guided the car speedily into her driveway.The front left wheel of the Corvette again met Thompson and lunged the vehicle into the air as it rolled over him.  He heaved out all the pain he could release as the wheel compressed his poor naked frame into the paver stones under his backside.  The car dropped violently after the crushing tire passed over him.  The Corvette continued to its parking space in front of the house as Diana ran over Thompson with three thousand pounds of metal and 119 pounds of woman.

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