Part Fifteen: The Next Two Months
The next Monday, Meryn was called into Mr. Martin’s office at work and was informed that she was being made project manager with Michael as her assistant. With this came a substantial pay raise and her own office. When she expressed her very great surprise at the promotion to Jeremy during her foot massage that night, he replied that it was no surprise at all. She thanked him for his confidence, and told him truthfully that she believed that a great deal of the credit for her achievement belonged to him. He would accept none of it.
The relationship between them continued to develop and grow. With her new responsibilities she began to actively seek his advice on a wide variety of issues, and always found his input immensely helpful, particularly in the area of managing interpersonal relationships in her new role as an executive. All domestic duties continued to be his responsibility, and this became even more important to her as she now began working longer hours, and often brought work home to do on her home computer. Frequently he would finish his nighttime chores while she was still hunched over working at her desk. Unasked, he would begin to massage her neck and shoulders. It wasn’t very long before these brief massages evolved into a weekly, hour long total body massage, usually administered on Friday nights to help work out a week’s worth of tension.
Another service that he began to regularly perform came after she treated herself one Saturday to a long delayed pedicure. That night, during her foot massage, Jeremy asked her if she would teach him how to do one. After one lesson he already gave a better pedicure than she had ever received in a salon, and this became one of his regular weekend duties. He, of course, as he would softly blow over the nail polish he had just applied to her toes, considered it a reward.
His evening devotional continued to be a central and special part of their day. Frequently however, it would now be followed by other types of enjoyment. This would always be initiated by Meryn, usually occurring four to five times a week. Although it never quite approached the level of that first time, she always found it to be fabulous. She marveled at how he could find such new and different ways to bring her to such fantastic climaxes. Early on she had asked him how he knew how to do this all so well after claiming such limited experience. He sheepishly replied that he read and learned a lot from the internet. She had laughed and told him that he could always continue to experiment with his research on her.
On each of these occasions, after she had her orgasmic fill, she always made it a point to satisfy him. She, herself, enjoyed seeking new and creative ways, without involving intercourse or oral sex, to do so. As was the case from the beginning he would never allow himself to cum without her permission, and it became a recurring thrill for her to tease him to a point of seeming agony before granting him exquisite release. She always found his sincere and heartfelt gratitude made her efforts all the more worthwhile.
The only unhappiness Jeremy voiced during this time was with the diminishing amounts of weight he was losing. He had lost another eleven pounds to 247 after the second month, and another nine pounds to 238 by the end of the third. He was bitterly disappointed in these results, but Meryn continued to be extremely pleased. As he was beginning to look ridiculous in his now baggy old clothes, she took him out to buy a new and better fitting wardrobe. Overruling his protests, she also insisted on paying for half of the expense, arguing that she was as responsible as he for the need of these new items. She also made sure that the selections were more fashionable than those he had previously worn. Although still overweight, she had to admit that he was starting to cut a very presentable figure.
Meryn had not spoken to or seen Natasha for over a month and a half. Part of this was because of her newly increased work load, but an equal part was due to feelings of guilt. She had clearly become angry with Natasha both times the four of them had been together, but she had to admit that her present situation with Jeremy was almost entirely due to those events. Natasha had introduced her to Jeremy, and in a sense had manipulated her into following up with him. She had also been the catalyst for the breakthrough in intimacy that now existed between them. Swallowing her pride she called her one afternoon.
“Meri, it’s so good to hear from you.” Natasha exclaimed upon receiving the call. “I’ve really been meaning to call you to congratulate you on your promotion. I was so glad to hear that you got it over that turd Michael.”
“Thanks Tash, I appreciate that. But the main reason for my call is that I owe you an apology.”
“You’ve been absolutely right every step of the way Tash, first in introducing me to Jeremy, and then encouraging me to take it the next step.” She paused. “The sex is fantastic Tash, just as you said it would be, and I can’t thank you enough.”
Natasha laughed. “That’s great to hear Meri. I’m so happy for you. And as much as I might not like to admit it, I’m pleased for Jeremy as well. I always had a soft spot for him, particularly now that you’ve caused there to be a lot less of him to like.”
Meryn bit off a sharp response to that. It was a complement after all, and she was very proud of his accomplishment.
“He’s lost almost sixty pounds, Tash. In less than three months. For me. And that really means something to me.”
“I guess he’s become something more than a starter slave then.” Natasha surmised.
“Without a doubt.” Meryn agreed.
“Then seriously Meri, if you really mean that, then there are things we need to talk about, things you need to do if you want this relationship to grow in the proper way.”
“What do you mean? Like what?”
“I think that again this the type of thing that would be much better for you to see and learn to do, rather than to just talk about.” Natasha answered. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you and Jeremy come over to my place after dinner on Saturday, and I can show you what I mean.”
Meryn was somewhat alarmed. “I’m not interested in any kind of group sex thing Tash.”
Natasha laughed again. “I know you a lot better than that Meri. Of course not. Believe me, there’s absolutely no sex involved.” More serious again. “Really Meri. I think this is very important. I know that all this hasn’t come as naturally for you as it did for me. Like I’ve said before, I was born to it. But you need guidance Meri, if you want all this to continue to work. Have I led you wrong yet?”
“No I guess not.” Meryn was intrigued. As she had had to admit to herself before, Natasha had been the precipitant force for everything that had developed between Jeremy and herself. If Natasha really thought there was something more she needed to learn and do, well she really hadn’t been led astray yet. She might not like Natasha’s methods, but she certainly couldn’t argue with the results. “Okay Tash. If you think it’s that important, we’ll come.”
“Great. Saturday at eight then. See you then.”
This is a size related story about a man who is shrunken by his wife and forced to serve her needs. If you do not like this type of story please move on.
Sunday was a beautiful sunny day in November. There was enough of a chill in the air to make my wife wear slacks but that didn’t matter as I knew and saw clearly what was underneath. I loved looking at her in hose and she knew it, this day she chose a pair of black silky Cecelia De Rafael.
We arrived early and sat in a pew that soon filled with strangers who we had never seen before, this was fine with me as I moved closer to her. She crossed her legs so I could see the arch of her left foot and let he heel pop. When I looked at her she was smiling at me knowing full well what she was doing to me. I happened to glance the other way and saw two more guys in our pew doing the same, “if they only knew just how sexy her feet were” When I looked back she had both her feet on the floor and was digging in her purse when I saw a slip of paper fall to the floor.
I picked it up and before I could straighten back up I read the paper, “Surprise!’ was all it said and that was the last thing I saw before I was hit with a heavy case of Vertigo, felt like I was falling and when I hit the ground I was on my back looking up to a flash of spinning colors. When everything stopped spinning I was in total disbelief. There above me was the sole of my wife’s shoe, she had re crossed her leg and was listening to the priest not even looking at me. Then I noticed that they older lady who was sitting next to me was now in my seat. It was like I was never there. Without warning she switched legs and her left foot was now pinning me to the carpeted floor. The toe of her pump came up to my chest and I pounded on her foot trying to get her attention. I screamed and yelled but no one heard a thing. I could feel her adding pressure and I thought for sure I was going to die like this and in the midst of this insanity I had a moment of clarity.
I was not in pain. I could feel the pressure but not the pain that should have accompanied this. I could smell the leather form her shoe and it almost felt like she was using me as a gas pedal. Without warning she stood up and with the toe of her shoe nudged me under the kneeler and was gone. I was frozen in fear as she stepped away from me, and then I realized she was gone and replaced by another set of feet, then another. I watched as both men and women walked by never noticing the 3 inch tall man under the kneeler by their feet. I didn’t know what to do so I sat there and before long she was back.
I approached her feet and was standing between them looking up at her and she leaned foreword to retrieve her purse from under her seat and looked right at me smiling. Before I knew what was going on she grabbed me and held me firmly in her hand. She was talking to the people around her as mass was over, she stuffed me into her pants pocket as she shook hands with people and said goodbye to friends. I was feeling different emotions every second, fear then arousal then anger. My mind was in overload; the odd thing was I could hear every word she was saying. I could hear her talking to one of her girlfriends and as they said goodbye they hugged. Somehow her friend hugging her pressed me into her leg, it was a brief hug and before I knew it she had me back in her hand. Everyone was gone and she was sitting in the pew as I tried to stand in her palm.
“Surprise, Guess where you are going to spend your day!” With that she turned her hand and I fell landing in her shoe. She shook her pump and I slid down to the toe section. The last thing I saw was her hose covered toes descending on me. She maneuvered me into the section under her toes and walked to the car. With every step she pressed me into the spaced under her toes, the movement of her walking felt like a roller coaster. When she stopped for a bit she scrunched her toes playing with my like I was there for her amusement. The heat was building, as was the scent of her foot. I love the smell of my wife’s feet after a day in heels, I grab them every chance I could get after she would remove them and now I was surrounded by it.
The claustrophobia I felt in the MRI tube was nowhere to be found, right now I cold care less I was still trying to figure this all out but oddly I was also starting to get aroused. I wanted so much to be naked under her foot so I could feel the silky nylon against my body. I used my face for this and love every second of the feeling. She was still standing in one place I was sure of it, I could feel her move her weight from one foot to the other occasionally it felt like she was twisting on her toes as the pressure would intensify. I could feel the cold coming through the sole of her shoe a bit on my back but the heat of her foot made up for it. Without warning I was back on the coaster as she walked to the car. Once in I heard her start it and turn the heater on. I felt stomach fly into my throat and was blinded as she brought her shoe up and dumped me out into her hand. I shivered from the cold as I could see the windows of the car frosted over.
She put her shoe back on her foot,”We are going to go over some rules for the rest of the day, and I hope you pay attention and behave or this could go very bad for you. You have wanted this for some time and now its here and just could be a case of be careful what you wish for!”
“Rule number 1, I am in complete control. 2. Do what I say without hesitation or questions. 3. When in doubt remember rule number 1. Do these things and you should be all right, but there are no guarantees here remember that. I can and will do what ever I want with you.”
With that she opened her purse and dropped me in. I landed on her pocket book and slid down between it and he make up kit. The purse was freezing; thank god I still had my clothes on. I wasn’t sure how this was done and wondered how I was going to get out of this. I felt the purse rushing upward as my stomach tingles like on a roller coaster. I was pinned pretty good and didn’t move around too much which was a good thing since I knew she had slung her purse over her shoulder as she always does and was walking into the house. She left me in her purse for some time and when she reached in and pulled me out the light was blinding. When my eyes adjusted I saw her smiling at me and it was not her normal smile, this unnerved me a bit.
“I had to get you accommodations ready for you, I have had them for some time I just needed to put it together.”
I was lowered into a small glass aquarium, lined with soft material. As I looked around quickly I could see small doll furniture that was a little too big, at the far end was a plastic bathtub about twice my size. Suddenly I felt her watching me and I looked up.
“Yeah things are a little big, I couldn’t find things in your size and wasn’t about to waste time looking for any. You will have to make do with this.”
Having said that she slid the screen shut and picked the aquarium up and carried it into the bedroom setting it on the computer desk. She bent down and was looking right into my glass cage.
“Remove your clothes, you are to be naked at all time.” I didn’t move. “NOW do as I say.”
With that she placed her hands on the glass and shook my world slightly. Needless to say when you are that scared you move fast. She opened the top and reached in, her hand was palm up waiting. I slowly moved towards her and placed my clothes in her hand and in a flash it was gone and the screen slid shut. She turned and threw my clothes in the wastebasket in our room. She pulled a DVD out and put it into the computer, turning the monitor towards the aquarium.
“Watch and learn, I am going to run some errands and have to go the Ups station and send a package. Don’t go anywhere.” I watched as she took a Disc that said training video and slipped it into a small package the size of a DVD and about 4 inches deep.
With that she laughed and left the room turning out the light, I was standing there watching the monitor as the DVD was loading. The only light I had was from the monitor; I looked down and realized that the floor of my glass cage was covered in nylons. Normally the thought of everything going on would cause some serious excitement. I guess I was just overwhelmed by everything. I moved to the couch that was facing the monitor, it was plastic but had small pieces of foam for cushion. I sat there and looked at the monitor, not really understanding any of this when I was shocked out of my thoughts by what I was seeing.
There was our kitchen, the camera was set on the floor and I was looking at another naked man. He was standing there looking up and then I saw a foot appear earring white open toe mules that I recognized immediately. He ran over and began kissing each toe of my wife foot and when he was done he knelt before her foot bowing his head to the floor.
“That was a much better greeting little one, I am glad to see that you are learning well.”
She raised her shoe as if to crush him and stopped just above his little body. A grape was dropped and landed next to him, “have a snack little one” with that she stepped on the grape squashing it and she ground it into the floor. I could see him looking up watching shaking a little. When she raised her foot he scurried under her shoe and began pealing the grape from her shoe and eating it. When he was done he moved back and prostrated himself to the floor again. He foot disappeared and I could hear her say,” Very good you are getting better, you may finish cleaning the floor now”
I watched as he did just that as she walked around him doing her every day things. Whenever she would stop close to him he would stop and run to her foot kissing each bare toe then go back and finish eating. I could hear her on the phone as her foot reappeared and she started to nudge him around a bit with the toe of her shoe. Once she had him on his back she would slowly lower her foot as if to crush him. I could see that he wanted to raise his arms but never did. I am sure it wouldn’t make a difference. I then noticed a mirror on the floor and as I heard her say,”yeah I am watching him now, he has totally submitted to the idea, I am sure you will be quite happy with him. I just have a few more things to do and he will be ready. Sure no problem, any time, bye”
The scene changed to our bathroom, I again could see him bowing prostrate on the floor and from above came two bottles of nail polish.
“I have removed the polish from my toes, you will soon learn to do this but for now you will apply new polish, usually I use this nail pen to get the look I want but since it is too heavy you will use two different colors. Do a good job and be rewarded, do a poor job and be punished.”
I watched as he labored with the brushes that were almost as long as he was, after some time had passed he was finished. She raised her foot to the camera and angled her toes so that I could see a perfect set of toes with French nail polish on them. I always like the white tips. She then reached down and without an ounce of concern or care she grabbed him by his arm between her thumb and forefinger and he rose quickly out of sight. The next scene was on our dinning room table; I could hear music in the background as he was now doing her fingertips the same as her toes. I could tell he was tired and was slowing down a bit but he didn’t stop until the job was done. I watched two more scenes like the one was where the poor bastard was scraping dead skin off of her feet and then applying lotion and then I saw End of part one on the screen.
Almost on cue my wife came back into the room looked to see what was going on and left without saying a word. I watched and again saw the little man on our kitchen floor and those same white shoes. I saw an eyedropper appear from about and two drops were squeezed out onto his head. She raised her foot and again he was under without a word and without warning he was gone with a pop. She stepped on him holy shit I can’t believe what I just saw. She raised her foot and I saw what was left of him on the bottom of her shoe. A new scene and a different pair of shoes, same results and the same sickening sound of him popping under her foot. This went on for five minutes; he was dropped inside her shoes and squashed, under flip-flops and then bare foot. The last one I watched as she scraped him off her foot onto the floor and then before I knew it he was hole again. The I read words across the screen,” With every crush he reforms quicker, the first initial times it will take about 20 minutes. This is because it takes his body time to realign itself and as it does this more it gets better therefore it gets faster. Yes this is all very painful for the slave!”
Slave wow that word struck a nerve; she came back into the room and was on the phone. She sat in the chair at the desk and put her feet up next to the glass of my cage. She smiled at me and pressed her hose covered toes against the glass tapping it as I listened to her conversation.
“Hi Kate, yes I just overnighted it to you along with the video I am sure you will love him and the serum works just fine. He is quite indestructible but feels the pain of every crush. He has enough air and supplies to last a week in his box just incase something happens to the package. From what my hubby here has told me, he has always wanted this so have fun with him. Call me when you get him and let me know how it’s going. Oh yeah let your friend Kylie and the others know we are heading for England next week and will gather the other one for her and I will get the rest once we get back. Sure thing you too bye”
“Can you guess what that was about? I am sure you figured that out, the box contained you friend from the message board. He came here to see you and I got to him first and decided to have some fun and make some money at the same time. I wont bore you with the details since you have work to do.”
It was then I realized that she had been slowly rubbing herself while on the phone watching me. She still had her clothes on from church. She stood and slowly slid her pants down her legs, this always got me hot watching her hose covered leg appear and this was no exception. She reached in for me and grabbed be between her fingers, she held me tightly and then with her other hand pulled her hose open and dropped me in. I slid down the silky fabric and stopped on her cotton gusset, it was soaked and I was surrounded by the scent of her sweet pussy. Looking up I could barely see her but I heard her, “I think you had better get comfortable; you are going to spend a lot of time there and remember the rules. Do a good job sweetie.”
With that her hose snapped shut against her body and I felt her walking, with every step I was maneuvered further down and against her slick pussy. I felt her raise her leg up and then the other and before I knew it I was in total darkness now. She had put on her favorite pair of lounging pants. Soft thin fleece, and I knew what she was going to do. She was heading for her chair to watch TV. With each step again I was worked in against her slit, the juices were slowly covering me.
Without warning I was flooded with light as her hand slid down and she used her middle finger to shove me inside her. AS I moved inside her I could feel her muscles squeeze me and getting wetter and hotter by the second. I had always wanted this and now didn’t know what to do. Every move I made I could feel her moan soft sounds of satisfaction from within her body like I was now part of her.
I could only feel the soft wet velvety walls of her pussy; I was in total darkness and soaked in her juices. I had lost count of her orgasms, every time she had one I was squeezed like I was in a giant vice and then she would shake And quiver a bit as she came down. I could hear her rhythmic breathing as I worked my way towards what I thought would be the opening of her sweet honey hole. She moved slightly as I finally worked my way out, I was half way out and could move no more. Her hose held me tightly and kept me from bringing my legs out. I was exhausted and finally passed out.
When I woke I was back in my glass cage the aquarium lying on a plastic toy bed covered with a pair of her old panties. I had no idea what day it was or what time but I could see daylight coming through the blinds. I looked over and saw that the computer was on and I could see myself on the monitor, there was a web cam pointed at my cage. There was a blank TV screen on the monitor that I had seen before on video chat so I knew somewhere the was someone who could open their chat and see me. This brought a new wave of humiliation over me as I couldn’t control anything, anyone at any time could see me if they wanted to. I looked over and saw some food on the little table and realized that I was indeed hungry.
As I made my way over to the table I remembered that the floor was covered with pantyhose and it felt oddly nice. There was a little piece of cheese and some bread and what looked like a grape that had been smashed, in fact everything looked like it was smashed. I really didn’t care I was starving. As I ate I also realized that I smelled like flowers and was clean. She must have bathed me after she was done with me. My mind started to work over time as I sat there trying to comprehend my new environment, like the first day at a new job or school your are nervous and waiting to see what the unknowns are. After I ate I looked for and found what I needed, she had indeed thought of everything. A small plastic shot glass like the ones for Jell-O shots sat by the plastic tub and it had a little seat on it and there next to it was some toilet paper enough to cover my bed. I have to admit I chuckled at the thought,”Wow I’ll never be on the can again and run out of paper” I also noticed at that point I was not alone in the room. I could see her one the screen, she was at work and watching me while I was on the can. I could see her chuckling to herself about the invasion of my privacy. As I quickly finished I heard her say,
“I will check back in a little while don’t go anywhere”
With that she was gone again and I was left to ponder my situation. I thought about work and how long before they realize I am gone, how can I get help a multitude of thoughts pass through you mind at time like this. A short time later I heard her call me and I turned back to the monitor and now saw three windows opened and three different women looking at me. I then remembered that I was naked and the laughed as I tried to cover myself. I recognized only one of them as a co-worker of my wife’s and the other two looked familiar but I did not know them.
“Did you really do what you said to him?”
“How many orgasms?”
“You are sure he wont break, he looks so tiny and frail?”
All their questions rang out loud through the speakers and my wife answered them all, the last thing I heard her say was she would give a demonstration later tonight and send out copies of the training DVD she made. When one was left she spoke with an accent I didn’t really recognize and I heard her ask, “When can I expect to meet you, I will make plans to be in London when ever you want but I have a concert there early next month in about 3 weeks.”
“That sounds like a fun time, lets make it then, I will get there before and acquire you gift and start the training.”
“Sounds good, I’ll see you later online I want to watch your web cast, text me when your about to start.”
With that she was gone and it was just my wife sitting there looking at me, she smiled and held another little man up to the camera dangling him by the arm as he kicked and screamed she shut off the camera. I could see the time on the monitor and knew I had about two hours until she got home. I lay down on my little bed and pulled her panties over me for warmth and fell asleep.
This is a part of what is yet to be a full novel. The overall plot will be about a woman who begins working for man who is extremely successful, strong, confident, dominant in his day to day to life, but has a hankering for Female Domination. Just starting their relationship, he is trying to help her get over her aversion to receiving cunnilingus (or anything else for that matter). Her past lovers have been completely uncaring about her pleasure. Throughout the book, he will help groom her for the role of Domina, which she eventually takes on happily, and the sex goes from vanilla to intense BDSM sessions. This short story begins as he uses a massage to get her used to the idea of receiving his oral attentions in his first grooming lesson.
“I just want to make you feel good.”
“I know, but I feel weird. I’m not used to this.” I hate making sex anymore awkward than it already is.
I want to be honest, and the truth is that receiving sexual attention for my benefit only, is weird for me. I am either too conditioned to being the pleaser, or I feel like I am being selfish or something by being in the receiving position.
I need to get over this. I know I do. I deserve to be selfish at times, relax, and let myself be pampered… whether it is by having my back scratched, my body massaged, or my intimate places stimulated.
The feminist in me is proud that I can be so sexual, but is also appalled and saddened by my need to constantly be focused on the feelings of my partners, and not myself.
I realize that sex is meant to be intimate. You are supposed to feel vulnerable, and if you trust your partner enough, you are willing to let yourself go… emotionally and physically. No wonder I have so many problems having a proper orgasm.
I’m sick of my selfish partners. I’m sick of dating men that act like they think my body is weird or strange… it’s never about me specifically… I know my body isn’t abnormal or gross in any way. It’s just that some men are not very comfortable with a woman’s body, and sometimes even if they are, they are all take and no give.
I don’t want a lover who doesn’t care about how I’m feeling, so why should I be all give?
“Just relax. Let me enjoy you. Let me treasure you. Let me love you.” His voice is pleading and I realize that he is speaking from the heart.
He probably feels the way I do when I am showing tenderness and appreciation to a lover with a massage, back-scratch, or blow-job, or whatever.
He seems to want me so much, and I can see the desire in his eyes as well as in his pants. At least with men you usually know when they are turned on, and when they finally reach that exquisite peak of pleasure. So many women fake orgasms, I can’t imagine how stressful that must be for guys.
I realize that I am completely in my head again, always thinking, as always. I curse the fact that I am never able to turn my damn mind off.
I want to enjoy his touches and kisses down there, and not just on my mouth. Maybe I just need to be slowly worked up, to enjoy his lips and tongue on my most private area… like foreplay to the foreplay. Maybe if I relax enough, I can actually let go for once.
I get an idea. Maybe a massage would help me get in the proper place. Great massages make me sleepy and relaxed. But I’m not used to getting them from someone that’s not professionally paid to do it in a very non-erotic way.
It occurs to me that I even have trouble receiving just massages from lovers, and always feel guilty for something: maybe his hands are getting tired, maybe my feet are sweaty, or maybe he doesn’t want to be doing this.
This is definitely a problem. I need to be able to receive. Things need to change. I just don’t know if I can let THIS man do this for me. He is so powerful, so rich, so used to having everyone do things for him. He can’t possibly get joy from just pleasuring me alone. I decide I need to give it a shot anyway, even if just to read his reactions.
“Well, maybe if you were willing, could you maybe start by giving me a massage? My neck and shoulders are very tense from all the stress my boss likes to give me.” I wink at him, and he laughs.
“Oh my gosh, I would love to touch and caress that gorgeous body,” He’s smiling and says, “Well you know, perhaps when you are off the clock, you should get to be the boss, and I can be your obedient servant.” I giggle at his joke. Or is it?
“Lay down sweetheart. I have this lavender sweet almond oil that is perfect the job.”
“OK.” I take off my shirt and bra, and pants… leaving my lace trimmed panties on (I’m not ready to have my naked sex stared at as he massages me).
“I’ll take care of atmosphere.” He says, and I can detect a little excitement in his voice.
I lie down on the bed on my stomach, head on pillow, and arms above my head. As I am arranging myself he chooses some of my gentle yoga-mediation music on my sound system. He puts a final touch to the ambience by lighting a three-wick candle and turning off the lights. He’s obviously been listening to me, and took my lecture of proper aesthetics for sexy mood to heart.
“Oh, not like that.” He grabs my arms and lifts them down along my body like he would if I were on an actual massage table.
He must know that this isn’t comfortable unless you are face-down, so he folds my arms and places my palms by my shoulders, keeping my elbows down, but slightly away from my body.
I feel a little nervous when he suddenly grabs my ankles and pulls them apart, but the feeling goes away, when I realize he is placing them in a more comfortable position, feet aligned with my shoulders.
He sits by my side after he grabs a bottle off the nightstand. I can hear him pour some oil into his hand, and he rubs his hands together. He must be warming the oil, and when he places his hands on my back they aren’t cold, but feel nice.
He begins to gently rub my back in circular movements all over, lightly and gently, gliding the oil all over my skin. After my back is thoroughly greased, he moves his hands to my shoulders and begins to knead.
Oh my god, it feels so good, and I can tell how tight my muscles are.
“Feel free to do it as hard as you want. I can tell I have horrible knots.”
“Good, I’m glad you like it rough.” He’s joking, and he makes up for it with a kiss to my right arm.
He continues to knead, deeper into my tough sinew. It hurts. Hurts a lot, but the release of tension that he is breaking free with his ministrations is heavenly. My shoulders are heating up, and it becomes almost unbearable when he finally moves on to my neck. He is gentler with the more delicate area, and his rubbing is so soothing.
When he is done with my upper area, he shifts himself so that he is straddling my upper legs. He must be holding up his weight with his thighs, because he is barely heavy. He begins to work the kinks out of my back muscles, and is thoroughly working one area at a time. I wonder if he has read books or something because he is as skilled as any trained masseuse.
After my back is manipulated to his satisfaction, he moves to my arms, caressing them by wrapping his hands around them and pulling down on my upper arms. He must be hindered by my position because he then places my arms back to the way they would normally be, and I turn my face from one side onto my other cheek.
This won’t be comfortable for long, but he also magically knows this because after my arms have been relaxed and my neck starts to get stiff, he is placing my arms back to where they were.
He lifts my palms, one at a time, and caresses around the tiny bones and all the little tiny muscles hidden there. He sweetly finishes each hand by rubbing the webbing between my thumbs and index fingers. I forgot how delicious a simple hand massage can be.
It hits me that I am allowing myself to appreciate this fully. No negatives thoughts have been plaguing me. I have not felt guilty, or worried yet at all for his well-being. He really is getting benefit from this; I can feel his pride in my positive response.
“Wow, Lia, your skin is so soft and smooth. I love touching you, even when it’s not sexual. I feel closer to you when I know you are enjoying my touch.”
“Agreed.” I tell him, in more of a groan than a word. “Harrison you are amazing. I can’t believe how good I feel right now.”
“I want you to feel even better than this, baby. Please let me show you how good I can make you can feel?” His voice is pleading, and I decide to give him my blessing. If he isn’t enjoying himself as much as he claims he will, I figure I will be able to tell and he never has to do it again, or at least I tell myself that.
“OK, I guess.”
“But only if you promise to try to enjoy it.”
“OK, just relax and don’t think about it.”
I feel anxious about having his mouth on me. What if he thinks I taste weird? What if his tongue gets tired or he gets sick of doing it? What if I like it, and what if I don’t want him to stop? I catch myself up in my head again, and I switch gears and try to just be with my body.
He gets off of me and is sitting near my hip. He takes his thumbs and hooks them in the waist of my panties, and is slowing pulling them below my butt cheeks. I think he is going to take them off completely, but he stops. The front of my panties has been pulled down, but I still have fabric covering my mound.
The air on my buttocks makes me feel naked and exposed, and for some reason still having my panties on partially causes me to be even more conscious of what skin is exposed.
He pours more oil onto his hands, and after warming it, he rubs it into a pool on my lower back. He pulls through the oil and brings it over both globes, soothingly moisturizing them. The feeling is incredible. He works my glutes, and when he determines he is done, moves onto my thighs.
I am absolutely aware that his hands and his fingers are so close to my sex, and I feel my groin growing warmer. Unconsciously I must be tensing, because he says, “Remember to relax and enjoy it sweetheart.”
“Don’t worry… I really am.”
His fingers are rubbing up and down my inner thighs, and my body is responding to the sensuality of it. I feel the fabric between my legs get damp. I blush, knowing that his face is focused intently on that area and wonder if he can see any evidence of his endeavors on me.
He moves his hands from my thighs to my buttocks and back again, never touching my most sensitive areas. Just when my body can’t take anymore teasing, he moves on to my calves. He loosens the muscles, and moves on to my feet.
Before oiling them, he kisses my insteps. His fingers and lips tickle, and just before I pull away, I can feel his tongue on my toes. He licks all in one lap of tongue, and I’m shocked when I feel his mouth around my big toe. I can’t believe he is licking my feet, and now he is sucking on my toe. He moves to the other one, and spends time on my smaller ones as well. He kisses and licks my instep, moving on upward.
He is slowly licking his way up my legs, and I am quivering in anticipation as much as I am feeling some anxious dread.
He kisses the crook behind my knees, and I am surprised at how sensitive the skin is there. He is kissing me and licking me, and the heat in my groin is reignited. My chest is tense, and I swallow down nerves. I must be sending vibes, because he speaks to me again with reassuring words.
“Oh baby, I love pleasing you. I love kissing you. I love licking you. I love having my mouth all over you, everywhere on you.” His words comfort me, because I feel my body relax again. “I love how you smell and I can’t wait to taste you.”
He pushes my legs apart, and caresses and licks up inside my thighs. I can feel the moisture that is collecting between my legs and onto my panties. My face feels hot from embarrassment, and I feel so completely exposed and open lying on my stomach with his face so close to my lower body.
These are the feelings that usually cause me to cancel a lover’s one-sided attentions, causing me to beg for something more mutually beneficial. But Harrison isn’t like any of my previous lovers, and he has already made that abundantly clear. I am feeling blissful and happy.
The warmth of his breath on the delicate skin of my inner thighs is unbelievable. I have never felt anything so sensual. I gasp as I feel his lips on my right butt cheek. He is kissing and licking over the smooth skin of my buttocks, and I feel like I could come from this alone. This, right now, is even better than any orgasm I have ever had. My entire body feels connected to my behind, and chills keep running up my back and over my arms.
My whole being shivers when I feel his mouth on my cloth-covered labia. The lips on his face are all over my more sensitive ones, and the small pooch of my vulva is inside his mouth.
His breath is hot and damp, and I can feel his tongue swirling over my panties, tasting my wetness coming through.
I have never had anyone go down on me from behind before, nor over my underwear, and both aspects are overwhelming me with desire. I want to feel him inside me, on me, over me; everywhere, anywhere… suddenly he is pulling my panties down my legs and over my feet.
I am completely aware that I am entirely bare and exposed. He rubs my upper thighs as he makes his way to my groin, and I am moaning when his fingers find my lips… so gently he is touching me, and he’s works his thumbs softly between them.
“Oh wow, I guess you like what I’m doing.” His voice is sweet and warm like his hands. “You’re so wet…and that turns me on like you have no idea.”
His words are slightly dirty, and I find myself even more aroused. I am loving this and don’t know what to do, I feel the need to move, or touch something. I put my face in my pillow out of frustration.
He works one thumb inside me, massaging my inner walls, moving around in circles. I feel fuller and realize he has worked another thumb inside me, and is slightly stretching me open. I know he can see everything, and the vulnerability of my nakedness is causing any touch to be magnified ten-fold.
He takes one thumb out of me, and replaces it with a finger. I can hear evidence of my wetness with the small sounds he is creating. I can tell I am practically dripping, and feel the dampness on my thighs and below me on the sheet.
He pulls his finger out, keeping his other thumb in, pushing in and out of me, deeper now. He ignores my clitoris, but I groan loudly when I feel his wet finger touch my other delicate place, and am shocked that he is touching me there.
I don’t know what to think or feel when he begins to work his finger inside, using my own fluids to ease his way in. I have only had a few people do this to me before, and it has always felt strange and pointless. I have never understood why someone would want to do this or have it done to them… until now. He is being so gentle, and I am so incredibly relaxed and turned on.
His thumb and finger begin to move in unison, pulling out then pushing in… and I feel myself getting closer to nirvana.
He pulls his left thumb out of me, and pushes his right one in. Now his right hand is inside me in two different places, and he places the pad of his left thumb on my clitoris. I really begin to moan as I immediately climax and feel myself pulled up and let go by my orgasm. I feel myself falling from the sky, and while I am landing I cannot move.
He must be well-schooled on women, because his thumb leaves my over-sensitive clit, giving me respite from the intensity of his touch. He is working the first two fingers of his left hand inside my vagina, and I’m yelling, “Oh my god!” when he curls his fingers and is massaging the spongy nerves that make up my g-spot.
The sensation is pure ecstasy, and I feel waves of pleasure roll away from that special place like ripples in a pond. My whole lower abdomen is this one little spot, and I can feel it everywhere. The finger in my ass is amazingly sensual, and the sensation of having him there has gone from strange to lovely, as the connection is drawing stimulation through all my privates.
He begins moving his fingers slightly faster and a lot harder, and I feel myself begin to float higher once again. I’m at the brink, and I muffle my increasingly loud moans into my pillow.
I hear myself calling over and over to god, thanking the universe for this awesome gift. I have never felt anything this wonderful before. Never ever has someone made me feel so incredible.
“Oh, you are so hot. I want to feel you come on my fingers. I want to feel you inside as you tremble.”
His words are so erotic, his fingers so magical, and I erupt with deep spasms from my deepest places. My womb is contracting from the intensely internal climax, and it feels so much better than anything I have felt before. The tingles emanating from inside of my body are overwhelming me. I had no idea how much more heightened it is to come this way. I would trade a clitoral orgasm for this one anytime.
“Oh my god, Harrison, oh my god. Oh my god.” I take a deep breath in and out. “Oh my god.”
“I think you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
He is flipping me over and I desperately grab his head with both hands and pull his mouth to mine. I am kissing him hard, deeply, my tongue is dancing with his, and we have never kissed with such passion. I am eternally grateful for this beautiful experience, and my mouth can’t get enough of him. I pull his body onto mine, and feel his heaviness melt into me. His erection is evident and feels painfully hard through his pants.
I don’t want to get any of my fluids onto his pants, so I arch my pubis away from his body, causing my back to arch slightly. My breasts are pressed harder against him, and his fingers find their way to my nipples.
He is rolling them between his fingers, and I am gasping as he pulls them and pinches. I need to feel the manliest part of him, naked, and inside me as soon as possible.
I am kissing him still, my lips pressing hard, moving with conviction. I move my face to his neck, and am licking and biting, first his neck, then his earlobe. We are both breathing hard and I tug and pull at the fly of his pants, desperately wanting to free his body of them. I kiss and lick that sexy special nook behind his ear, and it is driving me as wild to do it as it is for him to receive it. I need him. So desperately I need him, so much now. I have never wanted anything more badly.
He helps me pull off his pants, and he places his knees between mine. He uses them to push my legs open, needing to gain access to me as much as I am wanting it. I am gasping as I feel the head of his penis push through my labia, soft and smooth, and he rubs it over my clit.
I can’t take much more, and I am begging and pleading, first in my head, then out loud with my words.
“Oh yes, Harrison, please, I need you. I need you now. Please… Please… I need to feel you inside me. I need you to fuck me so good.”
He is cruelly teasing me, refusing me, rubbing between my lips and over my most womanly space.
Then he stops at my entrance. I can feel the top of him just begin to push inward, before stopping.
“This is what you want, is it? Do you like it when I tease you?”
“No. Stop please. Just do it. Do it now. I need you.”
“Anything for you baby.”
He lifts his hips and falls back to me, thrusting into me suddenly and thoroughly. We both moan at the pleasure. He stays there inside me for a moment, not moving; appreciating the warmth and wet caress of my inner sanctum.
He slowly pulls back, then slowly returns, and we are both moaning, both overwhelmed in the feelings. We are so close, so connected, our bodies as deeply entwined as two humans can possibly be.
Some part of his mind wondered what had brought him to this place. His exact predicament was at once easy and difficult to describe. His face was currently buried between the thighs of one of his junior officers while he lapped desperately at her dripping sex. Beyond that, he would be hard pressed to say where he was. His mind had long since disappeared, lost in the sensual bliss that submission always brought him. And though the press of the soft flesh of womanly legs prevented him from stopping to take a breath, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Only a half an hour ago he’d been pouring over some reports in the comfort of his room when an unexpected knock tore him from his concentration. A sideways glance informed him of the time. 22:30. Who would be at his door at this time of night? He rolled his shoulders, then stood and crossed the room to answer the door. On the other side of the door was a rather short woman with her hair pulled back in a military approved hairstyle. Her figure was at once petite and full, even through the unflattering material of their daily uniform. He opened his mouth to ask what she needed, but before a word escaped, she had sauntered past him and taken a seat on his desk.
“Close the door, Michael.”
It took him a moment to realize that bewilderment had left his mouth hanging open in question. Even so, he found himself doing as she asked. He vaguely recognized her. One of the new officers, and certainly not someone ranked high enough to call him by his first name without permission.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She ignored him for a moment, studying her nails carefully before raising dark chocolate eyes to meet his.
“It’s more about what I can do to help you, Michael. You see, you’ve been observed.”
Observed doing what, he wondered. He had done nothing to break the rules, he was more than sure of it. It was one of his strongest principles.
“I can see by that hopelessly idiotic expression on your face that you’re confused. Why don’t you get comfortable while I explain.”
Unsure of how to handle the situation, he decided to hear the woman out. He took a step towards an open chair, but stopped abruptly by the bark of a command.
“Not there! Kneel here. At my feet.”
A part of him accepted the command immediately, but before he could obey, the rational part of him whispered logic.
“I don’t know who you are, ma’am, but I suggest you leave. This is not proper behavior and I think it would be in your best interest to end this before I–”
She chuckled, dismissing his threat before he could even utter it.
“Don’t bother. Unless, of course, you want everyone to know about the real you.”
That stopped him. What could she mean? A blurred understanding began to appear in the back of his mind, but he was still largely confused.
“Don’t play the innocent, boy. You think no one notices when your little prick gets hard when one of the COs is bossing you around? Do you really think you’re such a great actor that no one could tell you get turned on when you’re being yelled at?”
Michael opened his mouth to protest, but yet again found himself silenced by the strength in the woman’s voice.
“You thought no one would notice all the pervy things you look up on your computer?”
His eyes flicked to the computer that sat as a silent traitor on his desk, betraying him before he could deny her accusations. The woman reached casually into a pocket and pulled out several pictures, clearly screen shots from his more risque web adventures. The theme was easily apparent. Men on their knees, servicing women with complete and utter abandon.
“So, I say again, boy. Kneel here.”
There seemed to be a distant buzzing in his head that grew louder and more insistent and prevented him from thinking of a way out of the situation. Defeated, he slowly approached her and lowered himself to his knees.
“Good boy. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Silently, the man nodded and quietly fretted what she would do with the information she held in her hands.
“Now, if you do as I ask, always, then your secret is safe with me and those I hold in my confidence.”
Michael’s head jerked up and words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.
“But you can’t –”
A slap rang out in the silence.
“I did not yet give you permission to speak in my presence. Do not interrupt me again, you useless worm. Do you understand me?”
Again, he opened his mouth, but a warning and derisive glance from the woman closed it again. He nodded.
“Good boy. You learn quickly. I appreciate that. As I was saying, if you are good, I will not out you. From this moment on, you are mine. You will do as I say, when I say it and you will do so gladly, understood?”
“I will explain my expectations in further detail later, for now, I will give you the privilege of serving me. You cannot imagine how long I have been waiting for this moment. My panties are nearly drenched as it is. I’ll make you pay for that inconvenience later.”
The woman stood and walked over to him bed, swaying her hips as seductively as possible as she went. When she reached it, she spun and crooked a finger in his direction. Michael began to stand, but stopped when he saw her disapproving look. The woman pointed towards the ground. Confused, he hesitated.
“Crawl like the dog you are.”
He swallowed, then fell on all fours and began to make his way towards her. It wasn’t until he’d shifted position that he realized how aroused he actually was. His mind had been so caught up in the tsunami of her presence that he had lost sight of all things else. And now, she was going to let him please her. Perhaps their meeting wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“Remove my pants.”
He sat up and raised trembling hands to the waistline of her pants, careful not to be too rough when loosening them and pulling them down. As the fabric fell, it revealed strong, smooth thighs, a beautifully rounded derriere and gently defined calves. The were the legs of dreams. What drew his attention, however, was the modestly seductive pair of panties that were now at eye level. A purple confection made of lace and silk that hid nothing but the very center of her sex, stained a darker shade as a result of her arousal. The scent of sexual excitement tickled his nostrils and sent a pang of lust straight to his groin. He didn’t know if he would last to see was was beneath.
Knowing where he hoped this process would lead, he reached up to run his fingers gently over the hem of her panties. He heard the sharp intake of breath and felt her body tremble slightly at his touch.
She slapped him again.
“I did not tell you to touch anything else. Look at you, you disgusting slut. So horny you can’t even act like a decent human being. Now you’re going to have to prove yourself to me before I let you go any further.”
She sat upon his bed and crossed one supple leg over the other, letting a foot dangle elegantly before Michael’s face.
“Ever heard of foot worship? Who am I kidding. Of course you have, filthy pervert. Since that is the case, proceed, but don’t be disgusting about it.”
He studied her foot for a moment as a flicker of revulsion rolled through him. He couldn’t lick her feet. That was gross.
When he failed to move on her order, the woman lifted her foot gently and placed it on his chest. Then, with one hard thrust, she shoved him on his back. He fell in a tangle of limbs and lay sprawled on the floor. He looked up to see her face curled in disgust.
“Was there something unclear about my command, boy?”
His lips parted to respond, but were met instead with the sole of her foot. She pressed into his face and sneered.
“When I say something, you do it, slave. There will be no hesitation. So when I tell you to lick my foot, you’d better do it like the scum you are. I don’t care what you think about it. Is that understood?”
He could neither speak, nor nod, so he simply continued to lay there in silence until she removed herself from him. He heard her return to her seat on the bed, but he quickly forgot her movements, and everything else, when he felt what must have been her foot pressing against his erection. In slow, steady waves, she began to roll her foot, massaging and teasing it. As she worked, she spoke, though it took an act of incredible strength to hear her words over the roar of his arousal.
“You will obey me in all things. My word is not only your law, but your will. Your life is now mine. Your existence is now mine. I own you. Say it to me.”
Michael had lost focus halfway through and was simply moaning and grinding his hips against her foot. He was so close. So close to bliss and ecstasy. The reality of the fact that he was living his fantasy combined with the steady provocation of his sex was so overwhelming that he knew he would lose it with only a little more stimulation.
Suddenly, it stopped.
Almost in a daze, he waited for her next command. Several moments of silence passed, and it did not come. He opened his eyes and glanced around, even daring to sit up, but the bite of her voice did not meet his ears. It wasn’t until he turned that he realized she was by the door, putting her pants back on.
“Where are you going?” It was supposed to be a demand, or even a question,but in the presence of this woman, it came out as a weak plea. He didn’t want it to end. He was so hard and so aroused and had been on the verge of getting to taste her, yet she was about to leave.
She glanced over her shoulder, emotionless, and studied him.
“If you will not behave as I command, then I have no use for you.”
She slid her other leg into her pants and began to fasten them. Startled by the thought that she might leave, the danger to his reputation and position forgotten, he crawled toward her.
“Please don’t leave. Mistress, please.”
She paused at that and turned towards him, arms crossed and expression cold. She said nothing.
Michael stopped, suddenly unaware of what to say to convince her. Instead of speaking, he leaned forward and gently licked her shoe.
“I…I wish to serve you, Mistress. Please do not leave.”
He kept his eyes trained on her feet, waiting for her response.
“Are you certain this is what you want? I will not tolerate rebellion. I understand that you are new to this, so I will give you an opportunity to get out.”
“I wish to serve you, Mistress. I am yours.”
She said nothing for a full minute, enjoying his discomfort.
“Very well, pet. Strip.”
As fast as he could manage, he removed his clothing, letting his pants and shirt fall where they may. As soon as he was naked, the returned to his position at his feet.
She strolled to his bed and reclaimed her seat, somehow making the neatly made cot seem like a throne. She again crossed one leg over the other, and observed his naked form.
“Stand before me and show yourself. Turn slowly.”
He did as she commanded, this time complying immediately. His shoulders were hunched and he could not figure out where to rest his gaze, but he somehow managed to turn in a full circle.
“I suppose it will have to do,” she said. “Though your dick is hardly worth mentioning. My vibrators are bigger than that. I’ve never used a man so poorly equipped. Perhaps I shall reject you after all.”
Michael’s head shot up, even as his erection regained its hardness at her insults. His eyes pleaded with her. She laughed.
“Oh well. I suppose someone must do something with such a useless thing as yourself. Now, kneel and worship my foot as you were meant to do. Do it well, and you will be rewarded with a taste of my pussy. Would you like that, pet?”
The naked man nodded enthusiastically, and with equal excitement, set about removing the woman’s pants and shoes so that he could get to the soft skin beneath. He marveled yet again at the vision of womanhood that sat before him. His awe only motivated him to go about his service with wild abandon. This time, instead of disgust, his mind was set on his act of service, desperate to please his new mistress.
He sucked on each toe, wrapping his tongue around them one at a time before moving to the next. As his mouth worked, licking and kissing every bit of available skin, his hands began to knead and massage. His fingers brushed against her calves, eager to continue their path of discovery, then hesitated, waiting for her approval.
“Well done, pet. You may touch more.”
And so he continued in this way. Touching and tasting his way up from her foot, to her calf until he reached the supple softness of her thigh. He could hear her heavy breaths and took pride in his work. With each stroke, his fingers moved closer to the purple treasure. He longed to taste her sweet nectar, but dared not risk angering her yet again.
Finally, she pushed him back and commanded him to lay on the floor. Unsure of her wishes, he followed orders. A few moments passed before the beautiful sight of her pussy hovered just above his face.
“Tell me, pet. Do you want to please your mistress?”
She slapped him.
“Try again, pet.” She said.
“Very good. You have pleased me with your offering of worship. So I will reward you with the task of bringing me to climax. Do not disappoint.”
With that, she lowered her sweet rose onto his mouth, closing her thighs around his head and cutting him off, sight and senses all, from the world around him. Occasionally encouragement and insults reached his ear. The harder he worked, the more she rubbed her soaking sex across his face. His tongue snaked in and out of her core, sliding up to tickle her clit every now and again. Her fingers curled in his hair and pulled him into the V of her legs. Her pitch rose higher and higher. He could feel the lips of her sex trembling and new she was on the edge, and he suddenly realized that he was on the edge with her.
She rode his face with wild abandon until she exploded, slamming her pussy onto his face, her hips jerking and her body writhing as she came. It took her a while to get a hold of herself, and when she had, she slipped from his face and stood, looking down at him. It was not until this moment that he realized she too was naked. And her breasts were huge.
“You have done well for your mistress, pet.”
Her eyes scanned his body, pleased with his level of fitness. Michael was so enthralled with the sight of her breasts, large, soft and inviting, that he nearly missed it when her look of approval changed as soon as her eyes landed on his erection.
“Look at that prick. Such a pitiful sight, even when you’re completely turned on. Ugh. What should I do with that thing? I know. I wish for a show. I doubt you can get much out of that tiny cock, but I suppose you can try. Masturbate for me. Now.”
I have made this an interactive story because every reader has the capability to imagine his or her version of the fine details. So I have left some intimate parts for you to imagine. Hope you enjoy the new experience.
Completely Naked with only leather cuffs on ankles and wrists. A tight collar choked around your neck. You wait with eyes focused on the floor in the dimly yellow lit room. Absolute silence prevails.
From the corner of your eyes you see your mistress appear at the door. She is completely clad in shiny black body hugging rubber with a thick tight fitting leather corset and knee high boots with high platform and sharp heels. Her jet black hair was cut neck height.
Around one ankle glistened silver spiky anklet only most elite mistresses wore. It cost you a lot but you believe your money was well spent. She advances towards you and a large strap on pointing to the roof wobbles as she walks. She stops with her shiny boots inches from your lips.
Your kissing and licking fantasies.
She locks your wrists behind your back and walks over to her throne like chair and sits. She instructs you to crawl like a worm with hands stilled cuffed behind. You slowly crawl inch by inch dragging yourself to her feet. She commands you to lick and suck her strap on cock very gently.
Your slow sucking fantasy.
Her breath quickens and she grabs your hair. You move closer to her rubber clad body.
Your hard and wild strap on sucking fantasy.
With the base of the strap on rubbing her clit as you suck, finally she has an orgasm. With contempt she pushes your face away.
“Against the frame,” she commands.
You quickly go to the X frame fixed firmly to the wall and secure your ankle cuffs to them by attaching the hooks. Then you place your hands in position. She walks over slowly and hooks your wrist in place as well.
You know that sometimes she enjoys devastating you for no reason.
You hear her choosing a tool to destroy you. Then the sounds stop and all you can hear is silence and all you can see is the plain dark wall in front of you.
You jump in pain when the bullwhip landed on your back and as quickly as it had landed, the whip was pulled giving another wave of excruciating pain.
Your back whipping fantasy.
When she was done with the back, it was burning and crisscrossed with cruel big red welts the whip had left behind. You were pleading and crying out loud, as your tears fell to the ground and you begged for her to stop. You could no longer display your macho traits as you had done when the whipping began. Like a little baby you were begging. She was clearly enjoying this and with each cry a feeling erupted from deep within her, satisfying her sadistic longings. She looked ever so powerful and cruel in the shiny black rubber. She walks up to you and feels your hot welted skin with her fingers. She lets herself touch you and gives you a kiss on the neck. You squirm as you feel her corset slowly against you. Despite the harsh whipping, your cock slowly gains size, something rather ironic as her strap on presses on your thigh. She steps away from you and walks to her table of gear. She replaces the whip and selects a cane. She moves close to you when you begin your begging.
“Shut up,” she commands.
Instantly you cries stop. Pleased she moves back a step and positions herself. Drawing her hand back to neck level, she lands a powerful caning at your ass. You try to clench it but with your legs spread you have no choice but to fully accept the terribly painful stroke. Mercilessly she lands another.
You ass and thigh caning fantasy.
She stepped back to enjoy the totally broken ass littered with welts that were turning dark maroon. You were slumping in your restraints unable to bare the pain and yanking involuntarily. The sight of you squirming slowly makes her horny again.
You hear her heels’ clicking as she quickly comes up to you and unhooks you from the frame. Then she grabs onto your hair and roughly pushes you to the table while you still mumble your thank you. Some of the gear falls to the ground but she pushes you until your ass was on the edge.
“Spread them wide you bitch. You are going to be brutally raped,” she yelled.
You spread your legs wide apart and tilt hour head backwards and scream in pain as she pushes her strap on wildly in. She slams your head to the table and places on boot on top of the table. Then she positions herself and continues thrusting. The raw pain slowly gives way to pleasure as the cock head rubs along your prostate. You moan.
Your wild and gentle strap on fantasy.
With one loud groan your cum erupts all over the table. She slows down and finally pulls it out. You fall to the floor panting. She walks over to her throne and sits down pretty exhausted herself. She unhooks her strap on and tosses it to the ground.
“Come here bitch boy,” she calls.
You crawl towards her on your hands and knees. She gently holds on to the black zip on the shinny body hugging rubber. She unzips it to reveal a patch of pale white clean skin contrasted with soft hued pussy lips. She had calmed down. She gently holds your chin in her palm and guides you to the fragrant pussy. You softly kiss it and provide a little foreplay until her lips were wet with her juices. Then you move your tongue to her clit.
Your pussy licking fantasy.
The heat was building up. She placed one boot on your back the other was wrapped around the back of your neck pushing your face deeper inside. With the change of pressure, you could see her squirm and pant. The intensity of her moaning increased and she erupted into a strong wild orgasm. She let her head fall back and slid back in her chair taking the feelings deep into her.
“Mmm. Take my boots off sweetie I want you at my feet”.
One by one you undo the belts and finally pull off her high heel boots. You gently plant a kiss on her foot and then remove her other boot also. You passionately kiss all over each foot. On her heel, on the ankle and ball of her foot.
“Lick between my toes,” she commands.
You quickly comply. You see her close her eyes and relax as you continue on.
Your barefoot licking fantasy.
Ch 6 (of 7) — Women’s stinky feet — at 30,000 ft!
Danny Dawson and his three former school pals, all of them eighteen-year-old school leavers with no job or training to go to upon their leaving education and, (would-be) ‘career claimants’, had duly reported to the location of their placements, as assigned to them by their local Job Centre.
The recently elected Authoritarian Female Party government, led by their very attractive and highly charismatic leader, Caroline Flint, had promptly introduced the placement scheme and, in their being applied all over Britain, these placements were the key feature — the cornerstone — of the A.F.P.’s Work Motivation Programme.
The A.F.P.’s radical, new-way-of-thinking initiative, was highly innovative and, although its introduction and speedy implementation had been highly controversial — causing protests, street marches, outrage and uproar, from the Human Rights lobbyists — it was well received by the great majority of the British people. Warmly welcomed, in fact.
For, the Work Motivation Programme was specifically designed, with the express purpose of giving the lazy-bones, workshy, job-dodging malingerers; many of whom, were long-term unemployed, and second, even third-generation ‘career claimants’, a none-too-gentle nudge in the right direction — towards finding gainful employment.
As instructed, in their letters of notification from their local Job Centre, the four workshy school leavers had duly reported to the Information Desk of the popular budget travel company, Sunshine Holidays, at Manchester Airport — Terminal 2 Departures. There, they had been received by Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, who had formally taken charge of them.
And now, they were about to discover what they were going to have to do, if they were to continue to qualify for their unemployment benefit payments. About to discover, just what, exactly, their duties as Air Purification Technicians would actually entail.
* * *
The Sunshine Holidays jet-liner that Danny and his three former schoolmates now found themselves aboard, was fitted with 200 passenger seats and, due to its having a rather long and narrow fuselage, people in the Air Line industry had nicknamed this model of aircraft, as the ‘Flying Pencil’.
The ‘Flying Pencil’s passenger seating arrangement, was that there were fifty rows of seats. There were four seats per row, with two seats on either side of the aisle.
The window-seats and aisle-seats on the port (left) side of the aircraft cabin, were labelled ‘A’ and ‘B’, respectively. The aisle-seats and window-seats on the starboard (right) side of the aircraft cabin, were labelled ‘C’ and ‘D’, respectively.
And so: lines A, B, C, and D, were each comprised of fifty seats.
The two platforms, upon which the port side seats and the starboard side seats were bolted down, were elevated above the aisle floor by about two feet.
The time was now 06:30. Take-off time, for Flight SH 123 to Corfu.
* * *
Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had, to her immense relief, managed to shepherd her four confused and concerned charges aboard the aircraft just in time for its take-off slot. And it was to the great relief also, of her three air hostess colleagues — Carol, Ann and Diane — who had been trying to reassure the worrisome Captain Simon (Buck) Rogers that the senior air hostess would arrive in time.
Now though, time was tight, and Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and her three colleagues hastened about their duties; the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner, bumping and jolting gently now as it taxied towards the runway.
Danny and his three fellow Air Purification Technicians looked on bemusedly. Completely at a loss, as to just what, exactly, was actually going on. And, as they stood by and watched the urgent, yet calm and efficient activities of the four air hostesses, they cast questioning, and increasingly concerned glances at each other.
For, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and her three colleagues, were busy opening the four panels that were situated behind the rearmost row of seats; situated behind the two elevated seating platforms — two on the port side, two on the starboard side: behind seat numbers 50 ‘A’, ‘B’, ‘C’, and ‘D’ — that gave access to the under-seat space of the Flying Pencil’s fuselage.
As Danny and his three nonplussed former classmates looked on, exchanging befuddled, ‘What, the …?’ glances, the four air hostesses spun free the quick-release wing-nuts, and removed the four panels from behind the two elevated seating platforms, thereby opening four entrances to the aircraft’s under-seat space — an add-on, yet integral, under-section of the climate-controlled aircraft cabin.
Caroline Flint, Prime Minister and leader of the recently elected Authoritarian Female Party, had, that very morning, cooed over the aircraft’s modifications, lauding them, as “A remarkable feat of improvisational ingenuity.” And: “A great credit, to all concerned.”
In fact, taking great pleasure in scissoring the logo’d blue-and-yellow ribbons draped across the entrance doors of the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner, the new Prime Minister had been cock-a-hoop, in personally presiding over the Air Purification Technician inauguration ceremony.
Addressing the large gathering of Air Line industry workers before her, Caroline Flint had quipped, “I really hope that this … pilot scheme, takes off.” When polite chuckles had subsided, she went on, “As it is my own, personal brainchild, I would like to see this particular Work Motivation Programme scheme introduced generally, nation-wide. And with as many compatible British Air Lines as possible, taking part in this groundbreaking, and — I have no doubt — extremely efficacious, endeavour … And after all, there is no reason not to. No reason at all, why compatible Air Lines shouldn’t do their bit, for the country — for hard-working, solid-citizen tax-payers, like yourselves — since all aircraft modification costs will be met by government subsidy.”
As revealed by the four air hostesses, in each of these four entrances, placed upon grooved rails, were the four … contraptions, that were the Air Purification Technicians’ Service Vehicles: Service Vehicles A, B, C, and D.
The Air Purification Technicians’ service vehicles looked, at a casual glance, very much like ordinary poolside recliners. Made of a hard, plastic-type material, they were about six feet long, two feet wide and, just like many ordinary poolside recliners, the forward, upper-body section was adjustable, thereby conveniently enabling the occupant’s torso and head to be raised and lowered.
But, apart from these otherwise seemingly unremarkable contraptions being castor-wheeled, they differed in appearance from ordinary poolside recliners in another, and rather more obvious way: They were fitted with five sturdy leather straps — restraints. For the occupant’s wrists, ankles, and neck.
The four air hostesses now pulled forward these four, castor-wheeled service vehicles from their storage bays. And as soon as they had done so, they peremptorily ordered their four dumbfounded charges to lie down upon them; on their backs, and with their heads facing towards the front of the aircraft.
Turning to Danny, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies addressed him brusquely, authoritatively. Nodding meaningfully, at the hard-surfaced, complete-with-restraints contraption she had just pulled forward from behind starboard window-seat 50 D — Service Vehicle D — she impatiently hectored Danny, “Come on, then! What are you waiting for? On you get, Dawson, onto your service vehicle … Well, go on then, get on with it — don’t take all day …. Dawson, you cretin! I. Said. Move yourself!”
Shocked and disbelieving, Danny said nothing, did nothing — was statuesque.
“Er … don’t you get it yet, Dawson?” inquired Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, of the stunned and incredulous Danny. “This is what you are here for, you idiot! Capiche? You, and others like you. You don’t want to go to work and earn a living — like respectable people. No … you’d rather sponge — from people like me! Wouldn’t you, Dawson? So now you are here, instead … Now, do as I tell you, Dawson. And do it now — or else! Lie down on your service vehicle. Lie on your back, with your head at the front — see, Dawson; there’s a rubber lining there, it’ll cushion your head, and keep it in place during turbulence, so you’ll be all nice and comfy,” the senior air hostess told Danny, with mock solicitousness.
When, in sheer incredulity, Danny merely continued to gaze blankly back at her, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies purposefully stepped right up to the hapless Danny.
Directly confronting him and, to better enable her to enforce her will, without the further wastage of any more precious time; like an overbearing Dreadnought, bringing to bear her formidable array of weapons against a mere, bobbing-on-the-waves, one-man dinghy, she delivered her uncompromising, non-negotiable ultimatum.
Her eyes, fixing upon Danny’s with an unsettling, disturbing — fear-inspiring — expression, and blinking, as though flashing messages by Aldis lamp, the senior air hostess said menacingly, “Dawson, have you forgotten, already, what I said to you earlier? About your Satisfaction of Conduct report? You are already in enough trouble … So you had better do what I tell you. And you had better do it now — immediately! Or else!”
Snapping out of it, at last, the browbeaten, intimidated, now almost cringing Danny replied respectfully, “Yes … Miss Julie.”
Danny then complied accordingly: lying down exactly as Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had instructed him, upon the poolside-recliner-like contraption — Air Purification Technician Service Vehicle D.
“You too, Wallace!” ordered air hostess Carol, sharply addressing Danny’s former best school chum, Al. “Come on! Chop chop! Get yourself onto this one, next to Dawson,” she snapped, pointing to Service Vehicle C. “Come on, Wallace! Quickly! We haven’t got all day!” she said waspishly.
And, following air hostesses Julie and Carol’s authoritative examples, air hostesses Ann and Diane similarly supervised Eric Pierce and Kelvin Costello onto their service vehicles, too.
Alan, having enough sense to know there was no point in resisting; that no possible good — only harm — could come from his rocking the boat, followed Danny’s example, quietly and without fuss. “Yes, Miss Carol,” he replied compliantly.
And Eric and Kelvin followed suit: showing respect, and quietly submitting to the authority of air hostesses Ann and Diane, giving them no more trouble than Danny and Alan had given, to their … handlers.
After all, what would be the point, in their showing dissent? In making things unnecessarily difficult for the air hostesses? In annoying, their … handlers? They certainly didn’t want Chief Stewardess Julie Davies blotting their copy-books for them. They didn’t want her making due note; officially recording, in fact, their lack of cooperation, resistance — outright obstruction, even — when she wrote up their Satisfaction of Conduct reports.
Not that it had been easy, for Danny’s three former school pals to respectfully comply with the orders so peremptorily issued to them, by the bossy, standing-for-no-nonsense, power-going-straight-to-their-heads, air hostesses.
Because it hadn’t.
For, listening to his friends’ strained, through-gritted-teeth voices, Danny knew just what their servile obedience; their meek compliance, must have cost them.
Danny knew that, under their breath, Alan, Eric and Kelvin would be cursing the air hostesses. Under the surface, they would be seething with indignation; boiling over, with maddening, impotent outrage, as they obeyed the harshly issued orders of the air hostesses — as they lay down on their backs, upon the slyly-inspired contraptions that awaited them.
While Danny, on the other hand, was experiencing very different emotions.
Being ordered about, bossed around, snapped at and talked down to — bullied — by the strict, no-nonsense, authoritative air hostesses, Danny was finding the whole thing rather exciting. To his astonishment, Danny found that he was actually enjoying himself.
With an air of brisk, economy-of-movement efficiency, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies and her three colleagues set about their task: firmly securing Danny and his three former classmates aboard their service vehicles; restraining them with the five sturdy leather straps, by their wrists, ankles, and neck.
Now, the four Sunshine Holidays air hostesses were left with just one final — and, most important … final touch, to complete their task.
Crouching beside Danny, and looking down on him, with a smile of pleasure and gratification, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies firmly pressed a strip of adhesive tape over his mouth — almost fatteninng his lips for him from the deliberate excess of pressure she applied to the task. Experimentally, with her forefinger and thumb, the senior air hostess pinched Danny’s nostrils firmly closed … Then, after a few seconds, at Danny’s bug-eyed and panicky reaction of, “Nnnnn! Nnnnnnn!!” she let go, satisfied that she had sealed Danny’s mouth airtight. Smiling even more widely now, she patted Danny’s cheeks with her fingertips and said pleasantly, “Have a nice flight, Dawson.”
Now, after having securely strapped Danny aboard Service Vehicle D, by his ankles, wrists, and neck, and having sealed his mouth airtight, Chief Stewardess Julie Davies gleefully consigned Danny to his fate.
With the leather sole of her right, uniform issue, two-inch heeled, dark-blue pump shod foot, the senior air hostess pushed Air Purification Technician Service Vehicle D, now bearing the securely strapped-down, taped-over-mouthed Danny, back on track — back, onto the grooved rails that ran along the under-seat space of the Flying Pencil’s fuselage.
She then replaced and secured the panel, closing off from view, under-seat space entrance D.
Air hostesses Carol, Ann, and Diane, having also performed their own … pre-flight preparations, all was now ready.
Task accomplished, the four Sunshine Holidays air hostesses looked at each other, and smiled — in pleasure and gratification — upon a job well done.
Air Purification Technicians: Dawson, Wallace, Pierce, and Costello, were now On Station.
Each of the four Air Purification Technician Service Vehicles were dedicated to serving their own line of passenger seats: lines A, B, C, and D. Each line, comprised of 50 seats.
There were four system keypads. Each numeric keypad, controlled one of the lines of 50 seats. The four keypads were individually lettered: A, B, C, and D. And they were numbered from 0-9.
Now, each of the four air hostesses pressed a keypad’s ‘ON’ button — Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, pressing the ‘ON’ button on keypad D.
And, when a green light came on and glowed softly, on each of the four keypads, the faces of the four air hostesses glowed softly, too — with pleasure and gratification. For, the four green lights indicated to them that the recently installed S.A.P.S. — ‘Supplementary Air Purification System’ — was now activated, and fully operational.
The S.A.P.S. was designed so that, by the simple means of a push of a button (located under the right armrest of every passenger seat), female passengers could summon the services of an Air Purification Technician.
At his being summoned, the Air Purification Technician would arrive just as soon as he became available — subject to the in-sequence order of demand — and he would then remain in service at that particular seat location, for a fixed-period duration of ten minutes.
Then, after this ten-minute, fixed-period duration was up, via the S.A.P.S. computer, the Air Purification Technician’s service vehicle would then automatically convey him to the seat location of his next female summoner.
For seats occupied by male passengers, via the four S.A.P.S. keypads, this facility would be routinely deactivated by cabin crew for the duration of the flight. For instance: upon an air hostess seeing that seat 27 A was occupied by a male passenger, she would simply press numbers 2 and 7 on system keypad A, and then press the red ‘Deactivate’ button.
And, air hostesses Carol, Ann, and Diane had performed this routine procedure, whilst awaiting the arrival of Chief Stewardess Julie Davies — and, of course, the four Air Purification Technicians.
It was almost pitch-black, in the under-seat spaces of the Flying Pencil’s fuselage, and Danny and his three fellow Air Purification Technicians could hardly see a thing, as the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner continued to trundle towards the runway … Until Chief Stewardess Julie Davies pushed the S.A.P.S’s lights ‘ON’ button, and then a number of bare, low-wattage light bulbs, that were affixed to support spars, and spaced at about twenty-feet intervals along the under-section of the aircraft’s narrow fuselage, began to emit their dismal, almost ineffectual glows.
Danny’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lighting of the under-seat space of line D and, what he could gradually see, of the shadowy, cramped — claustrophobic — confines of the Flying Pencil’s gloomy nether regions, didn’t exactly make for a pretty sight. In fact, at beholding the bare workings of the modifications (“A remarkable feat of improvisational ingenuity.”), in the austere — dungeon-like — bowels of the he aircraft, Danny almost wished that the lights (such as they were!) hadn’t come on at all.
Danny tried to move his head to his right. He wanted to see his former best schoolmate, Al, who was occupying Service Vehicle C, beside him. And he also wanted to see across to his other former school chums, Eric and Kelvin, over on the port side of the aircraft’s cramped fuselage, who were occupying Service Vehicles A, and B, respectively.
But Danny found that he couldn’t move his head; found that he could only see Alan, in his peripheral vision, and not see Eric and Kelvin at all. His head was stuck fast; immovable. Firmly secured, by the contraption’s sturdy leather neck-strap; the top of his head, tightly enclosed by the rubber lining (“… to cushion your head, and to keep it in place during turbulence, so you’ll be all nice and comfy.”), at the front of Service Vehicle D.
Suddenly the note of the Flying Pencil’s twin engines began to rise, rapidly escalating in pitch to a screaming crescendo as Captain Simon Rogers (“Good old Buck!”) boosted them to their full throttle, take-off power.
In the aircraft’s under-seat space, the ensuing vibrations were terrific; the tremors, rattling the runners under Danny’s and his fellow Air Purification Technicians’ service vehicles — almost rattling the feckless foursome’s very bones, as they lay supine upon the hard plastic, unyielding surfaces of their cruelly-conceived contraptions.
With the hellish noise; his sense of rocketing acceleration, and his sense of orientation all out of kilter, Danny’s heart was in his mouth.
And, as the jumps and bolts and jolts of the aircraft’s wheels grew ever more alarming as it hurtled down the runway towards take-off speed, Danny wondered if his three former school pals were as scared-half-to-death as he was. Of course, none of them could speak — the air hostesses had seen to that: sealing their mouths shut with adhesive tape — but he would have bet his first week’s unemployment benefit payment, that they were!
A few highly anxious — hair-raising! — moments later, Danny felt the upward tilt of the aircraft as the nose-wheels left the runway and, a moment after that, the alarming jumps and bumps and jolts ceased altogether as the Sunshine Holidays jet-liner finally became airborne; the Flying Pencil beginning to climb towards its cruising altitude for the flight to Corfu — 30,000 feet.
Danny wasn’t able to look at his watch, and so he didn’t know how much time had elapsed … maybe ten minutes, he guessed, when of a sudden, both his and Alan’s service vehicles started to move … began to trundle forward.
And Danny immediately concluded that the priorities of the Air Purification Technician Service Vehicles’ designers, had obviously not been with the comfort, of the occupants of their wicked invention. Or, on second thoughts, mused Danny … maybe that was the point: maybe it was at the top of their list of priorities — dis-comfort, that is.
For, the wheels — or castors — of the contraptions jolted and clattered over the joins of the runners and, with nothing to absorb the resultant shock and vibration, transmitted the full, jarring effect of every jolt and clatter, straight through to the supine, strapped-down bodies of the hapless occupants of those heinously-conceived devices … Just one of the products, born of the fertile imaginations of the Authoritarian Female Party’s ingenious, diabolically inventive think-tank.
Danny made a mental note: Next time, wear something a lot more shock absorbing.
A few seconds later, when Danny’s service vehicle jolted to a halt, and was locked in position, he heard, and saw in his peripheral vision, Service Vehicle C trundling on, conveying Alan further on towards the front of the aircraft.
Danny could also hear the more muted rumbling of Service Vehicles A and B, that were taking Eric and Kelvin on their travels on the port side of the Flying Pencil’s narrow, dim and dismal fuselage.
Danny’s own service vehicle, though, had stopped, and was locked in position. He hadn’t travelled very far.
Looking almost directly upward, about one foot above his face, Danny saw a number — 48 D.
Danny waited …
Suddenly and startlingly, a panel — about one-foot-square in size — opened almost directly above Danny’s incredulous face.
And then Danny’s sense of disbelief — of unreality — grew tenfold as, via the S.A.P.S. computer, the almost silent hydraulics on the front section of his poolside-recliner-like service vehicle began to automatically raise his upper body; his head, being angled towards the one-foot-square opening. And, this automatic elevation continued, until Danny’s head was actually protruding through the opened panel — into the foot space of seat 48 D.
Danny squinted his eyes in discomfort, for such was the sudden, and drastic increase in the brightness of light — light, inside the aircraft cabin.
When Danny’s vision cleared, he saw a woman, aged about thirty, looking down on him. She was quite attractive, thought Danny, with bobbed, sandy-highlighted brown hair.
The woman was smiling, as she looked down upon Danny’s conveniently positioned, mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place face. And it was a smile, of pleasure and gratification.
In the seat next to her — seat 48 C — sat a man with a ‘designer’ beard, who Danny took to be the woman’s husband. He was smiling too. Smiling widely. But in a different way. His smile, was one of amusement. Great amusement. Barely controlled hilarity, in fact.
And then Danny saw a widely grinning, dark-blue uniformed man lean over and look down at him. The man was wearing a black peaked cap; the pilot’s uniform cap of his Air Line — Sunshine Holidays. He was Captain Simon (Buck) Rogers.
Addressing the woman in seat 48 D, Captain Rogers said warmly, “Congratulations, Madam, upon your making aviation history — ha ha ha! Congratulations, upon your being the very first female passenger, to avail herself of the services of a Sunshine Holidays Air Purification Technician!”
“Thank you, Captain,” crowed the history-making woman.
Smiling happily, the woman looked down on Danny; her eyes gleaming, with an inner light. Gleaming, with anticipation … Heavens! thought the history-making woman, excitedly. I wonder if I’ll get my picture in the papers? In magazines? Be on the telly! With the Air Purification Technician! Ha ha ha ha! Just think of it: me — Lucinda Loveday — actually on the Box. Famous! Ha ha ha ha! That would give Bob something to tell his mates at work!
And then, in a gesture she obviously thought befitting to this historic moment, the woman in seat 48 D — Lucinda Loveday — made a big show of hovering both feet over Danny’s disbelieving face, and she performed a fanfare, heel-slapping ceremony with her bright-green, yellow toe-posted rubber flip flops, before letting them fall from her feet to the floor — bouncing off Danny’s fixed-in-place face, en route.
Immediately, the celebrity-wannabe loosely cupped the toes of her right foot around Danny’s nostrils. She then rested her left foot on top of her right; the extra weight, pressing firmly down onto Danny’s captive face, and ensuring that he had no option, but to inhale her in-between-the-toes foot stink.
“Ha ha ha ha!!” laughed the highly amused Captain Simon (Buck) Rogers, upon seeing Danny go bug-eyed with shock. “Again, Madam, my congratulations!” he said. Captain Rogers then returned to the cockpit, laughing uproariously, and sharing the joke with his passengers, along the way.
Transmitted through the soles of her pressing, possessing, clammy feet, Danny could actually feel the history-making woman shaking; vibrating, from the effort of suppressing her silent, delighted — incredulous — laughter.
Well, the way that she wanted to laugh, the way that she wanted to let go, to really let rip — to just throw back her head, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh … well, it just wouldn’t be lady-like.
An … an ‘Air Purification Technician’? marvelled the woman in seat 48 D. Surely … someone, somewhere, was having a laugh. A right old laugh. And she was laughing right along with them! Ha ha ha ha!
Lucinda could see the joke. Oh, yes! A wonderful, deliciously naughty joke. A practical joke. A practical joke — yes, but with the emphasis on ‘practical’. ‘Practical’, in that it was of sound, good sense and reasoning. That it was logical. And appropriate.
After all, Lucinda mused, what better motivation could there be, for the benefits claimants — such as this one! (Lucinda squeezed her nostril-covering toes harder, in umbrage) — to get up off their lazy, smelling-in-bed, fat behinds, and get out there and find a job? Because, if there was a better motivation than this … (she gave Danny’s nose another, even harder squeeze with her toes), she certainly didn’t know what it was!
An ‘Air Purification Technician’? pondered the flabbergasted woman, in seat 48 D. Oh yes … this little set-up had the fingerprints — or, should that be the ‘footprints’, ha ha ha! — of the Authoritarian Female Party, all over it. Oh yes … This would be the kind of thing — exactly, the kind of thing — that Caroline Flint would dream up. She was that kind of a gal! Ha ha ha ha!
Oh! Lucinda was glad — so very glad! — that she had voted for the A.F.P. But then, almost every female of voting age had done so, hadn’t they? Well, why wouldn’t they, if they knew what was good for them; if they knew which side their bread was buttered? It was a woman’s world, now … It was the women’s turn, to rule the roost. It was the women’s turn, to call the shots — to say how things were gonna be! To hold the whip hand.
And she wasn’t the only one, who could see — and appreciate! — the ‘practical’ joke …
Danny could see the helplessly shaking and vibrating woman’s designer-bearded husband, Bob Loveday, as he leaned across. Could see his wide-grinned, greatly amused face, as he proudly watched his wife — his history-making wife — gleefully avail herself, of the singular services of an Air Purification Technician. Gleefully avail herself, of him — Danny!
“Ha ha ha ha! ‘Air Purification Technician’!” bellowed the designer-bearded man, tickled pink, by the very notion. “Ye Gods, Lucinda! What an ab-so-lute corker! Who in hell dreamed that one up? Ha ha ha ha! Give her a medal! Unbelievable! Ha ha ha ha!!” he guffawed; his eyes tearing up with mirth, at the very idea of the hilariously absurd concept.
Widely grinning, the designer-bearded man watched, avidly, as Danny efficiently vacuumed up his nearest-and-dearest’s horrible — oh, he knew! and so too, now, did Danny! — foot scent, from in between her now joyfully wiggling, and triumphantly splaying toes. “Go on, Luce! Give him hell. Ha ha ha ha!” Bob Loveday enthusiastically encouraged his beloved better-half.
The woman’s husband watched, laughing — laughing like hell — as he beheld Danny, sniffing up his lovely wife’s horrible foot stink.
Laughed, as he watched Danny’s helpless, forced inhalations; sniff, after sniff, after sniff.
Laughed, as he watched Danny sniff up and absorb into his lungs, the dreadful, appalling odours, the highly offensive, stinky-feet fumes — that, if not ‘dealt with’, would otherwise taint the quality of the air inside the aircraft cabin — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.
And Lucinda’s husband laughed, too, because he knew there was no prospect of respite, either … Unless his dear, lovely wife chose to show mercy. And, if he knew his wife’s character; if he knew the love-of-his-life’s heart — if he knew his darling’s true colours — even half as well as he thought he did … that was just never gonna happen.
This certainly warmed the cockles of his designer-bearded heart, to see. Oh! She was enjoying this, the missus! Really, really enjoying it! He could tell! My, but she could be a bit of a vixen, his lovely Lucinda — given half a chance! he thought fondly.
But, Danny did not find the smiling, still helplessly shaking and vibrating woman’s foot odour offensive. On the contrary. Lucinda’s foot scent was, to Danny, like some tantalising, delicious aroma that had him unconsciously flaring his nostrils in trying to capture as much of it as possible.
Lucinda’s foot scent excited Danny, too. It excited him a lot. In fact … he couldn’t get enough of it.
Oh, the designer-bearded man could laugh. Could laugh all he wanted. Could laugh, until his stupid beard fell off. But, his wife’s stinky foot scent, only served to invigorate Danny — to bring him alive.
It was as if … as if he’d previously been living his life, insensate. In some kind of a stupor. Might as well have been comatose. With God knows how many leads and lines and cables and wires hooked up to him — and yet experiencing nothing.
But now, at these miraculous ‘smelling salts’, being wafted under his nose — at them being ‘administered’, to him … he was waking up.
Danny had, at first, felt utterly humiliated — yes. But, only at first. Because his humiliation, as acute as it had been, had then been counterbalanced— no: outweighed, far outweighed — almost banished — when his incredible, fevered excitement; his rip-roaring, ecstatic exhilaration, came surging through him. Taking him over.
In fact, this whole thing; the combination of the separate components of this whole, amazing, awesome situation, thrilled Danny beyond belief …
It was the awesome feel, of the thirty-year-old, history-making woman’s soft, warm, sticky soles, resting upon his face; her toes, gripping his nose, covering his nostrils — and him, unable to do anything about it.
It was the incredible smell, of Lucinda’s pungent, in-between-the-toes foot stink. Her imprisoning toes, ensuring that her powerful-smelling foot odour was all that he could breathe in. Making him inhale her noisome foot scent, without respite, sniff, after sniff, after sniff — and him, unable to do anything about it.
It was this, combination of … ‘thrill factors’; the amalgamation of all of these individual, excitement-fuelling components that, mixed together, was a potent, magical cocktail that was blowing Danny’s mind …
It was looking up, and seeing the face of the woman; the serene, smug — superior — face of the woman, who was looking down on him, and ‘obliging’ him to sniff her stinky feet. As if enthroned! As if enthroned, and looking down on him, as if at a mere nothing; his conveniently positioned, fixed-in-place face, simply her taken-for-granted footstool. And him — unable to do anything about it.
It was seeing her patently obvious, enormous pleasure, in — like some advantage-taking, evil nurse — ‘regulating’ his breathing, and ‘monitoring’ his … status. And him, unable to do anything about it.
It was seeing her revel, in the experience. Seeing her, ecstatic, in her unfettered, nothing-to-stop-her, total domination of him — and him, unable to do anything about it.
It was the beetroot-red, shame-faced, brink-of-tears humiliation, at being the figure-of-fun object, of Lucinda Loveday’s withering scorn. At being so scathingly, so derisively laughed at, by her. At being so derided, so ridiculed — so diminished — by the woman in seat 48 D. And him — unable to do anything about it.
It was the sheer helplessness and hopelessness, of his humbling predicament — his humiliating subjugation.
It was this, combination of thrill factors, this cornucopia of separate, individual, amazingly aphrodisiac … ingredients — this magical cocktail — that was turning Danny on.
And, Danny was being turned on, like never before.
Danny didn’t know why he so enjoyed these sensations; why he was so wonderfully overwhelmed, by these ultra-powerful emotions — only that he did; and that he was.
Danny had heard it said that there is a fine line between love and hate. Now, he wondered if there was an equally fine line between misery and joy.
In fact, Danny was starting to get hot and bothered. Getting excited. Very excited. Over-excited — ‘down there’.
And, Danny wanted to do ‘something’ about it — was desperate, to do ‘something’ about it …
Danny wanted to touch himself. He wanted to play with himself. He wanted to pull his penis, in worship.
Danny wanted to pay his solemn ‘devotions’. He wanted to make his sacred ‘sacrifice’. To Lucinda. To his thirty-year-old, sandy-highlighted, bobbed brown-haired Goddess.
And, Danny wanted to pay his … respects, to Lucinda, now! Now, in the here-and-now! Now, in real time — in the moment! — and not have to wait until later, when he got home, and replayed in his mind, the …
But, he couldn’t — because Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had secured his wrists, to Service Vehicle D!
Danny moaned, groaned, and bemoaned — could have wept. For, such was the measure, of his maddening torment.
Via the S.A.P.S. computer, Danny’s head was then automatically lowered from the floor opening, and the one-foot-square panel above his face closed, sealing off the foot space of seat 48 D.
And, after the bright lighting of the cabin’s interior, the sudden reinstatement of the near-dark conditions of the under-seat space of the Flying Pencil’s fuselage were shocking.
The smiling, history-making, helplessly shaking and vibrating woman’s stinky feet, and her widely grinning — foolishly-grinning — designer-bearded husband, in seat 48 C, had disappeared from Danny’s sight.
Lucinda’s ten minutes were up.
Considerately, Lucinda’s husband leaned across her. “Allow me, love,” said Bob Loveday, with his wide, cheesy grin, as he pushed the button located under the right armrest of his wife’s seat. The button that would, eventually (if time allowed), re-summon the Air Purification Technician.
Re-summon him, to once again sniff up and absorb into his lungs, the nauseating, highly offensive, appallingly pungent fumes from between his beloved’s toes — that, if left ‘untreated’, would spoil the quality of the air inside the aircraft cabin — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have too.
* * *
There was a sharp jolt and, via the automatically controlled S.A.P.S. computer, Danny’s service vehicle trundled on again … then, after travelling for about twenty seconds, Service Vehicle D again stopped with a jolt, and locked in position.
Looking almost directly upward, Danny saw a number — 35 D.
The panel almost directly above Danny’s face, now opened.
This time, of course, Danny was not surprised; just eagerly awaited his next awesome adventure.
Danny wondered how his three former school pals were going on …
Once again, via the S.A.P.S. computer, Danny found his upper body being automatically elevated; his head, being angled towards the one-foot-square gap created by the opened panel. A moment later, and his head was protruding through the opening — into the foot space of seat 35 D.
Again, Danny had to wait a moment, while his eyes adjusted to the relatively harsh light inside the cabin. His eyes adjusted more quickly this time, though, apparently becoming more accustomed to these sudden extreme variations in the brightness of lighting.
Upon blinking his eyes open, Danny saw a woman, aged about twenty-five, looking down on him.
She was not smiling — far from it. In fact, she was rather dour-looking, thought Danny, as she looked down on him in great disdain. Danny wondered if she might be sucking on a lemon. After all, thought Danny, what else could be causing her such distaste?
Swivelling his eyes to his right, Danny was able to see another, older woman in the next seat — seat 35 C — who he took to be the younger woman’s mother.
Danny guessed she was aged about fifty. She was leaning over, and she was looking down on him, too. She was not smiling, either — far from it. Similarly dour-faced, and also looking down on him with great, sucking-on-a-lemon disdain, she was definitely the younger woman’s mother, thought Danny: like mother, like daughter.
The two women, thought Danny, actually looked very much alike: same long, raven-black hair, same thickly-applied make-up. And they dressed alike, too: same black top, same knee-length, black skirt.
Together, the two unsmiling, dour-faced women silently looked down upon Danny’s mouth-sealed, fixed-in-place face, disdain and contempt, all too evident upon their starkly made-up faces.
Just like her mother, thought Danny, the twenty-five-year-old, unsmiling, dour-faced woman who had summoned him, had the look of a Goth, about her.
She had long, straight, raven-black hair, dark-brown eyes, and pale skin. Her thin-lipped mouth was a humourless, compressed slash of vivid red lipstick. Her eyes: their lids, brows, and lashes, made-up darkly with mascara. The overall effect, making the rest of her face appear almost milk-white.
The twenty-five-year-old, Gothic-looking woman had a tattoo, just above her right ankle. This tattoo design seemed familiar to Danny. He thought it reminded him of something he’d seen in art class at school: an Indian Goddess. The tattoo was of a brown-skinned, fierce-looking, warrior-like female who was victory posing: standing over, and placing the sole of her bare foot upon the chest of the man she had so evidently comprehensively conquered and, seemingly claiming … ‘rights’, over him.
And now, Danny knew, this Gothic-looking woman was about to place her own, conquering bare foot, upon him! About to lay claim, to her own ‘rights’!
She wore on her feet, what used to be white — but now, with the evident accumulation of the scuffs and scratches, dirt, grime, and foot sweat of too many years — dirty-grey, extremely well-worn, thin rubber-soled flip flops.
The unsmiling, dour-faced, twenty-five-year-old Gothic-looking woman then slipped her feet from her dirty, grimy flip flops and, bringing the soles of her almost equally dirty feet to a hover, just above Danny’s astounded, fixed-in-place face, she scrunched her slender toes, displaying to Danny her cut-short, glossy-black painted toenails.
Danny’s eyes were like saucers, as he stared up, enraptured, at the Gothic-looking woman’s up-close, in-his-face, dirty bare soles. For, he had never seen anything like them!
Quite obviously, mused Danny, she liked to walk about barefoot. Her rather rough-skinned soles; especially the balls of her feet, and her hard-skinned, almost flat-bottomed heels, readily lending further credence to Danny’s supposition; to his at-no-notice, on-the-spot assessment.
Her grimy soles, were rather long and narrow, long-toed, rather high-arched, and her almost flat-bottomed heels were prominent, as if jutting out, proudly.
And, thought Danny, she had every right to be proud. Danny thought her soles were very shapely, very sexy — very desirable.
Danny was spellbound. Utterly bewitched.
His mind and body in turmoil, Danny stared up, enchanted. Enchanted, at the incredibly exciting, extreme-close-up sight of the Gothic-looking woman’s dirty bare feet, hovering right above his wide-eyed, incredulous face.
And Danny greedily drank in every single, fascinating, awesome detail of her grubby, grimy soles.
Well, there was just so much, to feast his hungry — ravenous — eyes upon. So much, to absorb. So much, to commit to memory. So much, for him to remember, later, when he got home, and replayed in his mind, the …
After all, sights — oh, such glorious sights! — such as these, did not present themselves to Danny every day …
Until today, that is!
Danny would have wagered a months’ worth of unemployment benefit payments, that the Gothic-looking woman had never even seen the inside of a pedicure salon. As his dad would say, when putting his money on some hopeless nag that was somehow masquerading as a bona fide race horse: it was a ‘Dead cert’. But, his dad would be right this time. Ruddy hell — her feet seemed strangers even to soap and water!
Danny thought that she might at least have made a bit of an effort … Hell — after all, she was one of 200 air passengers, sitting in a jet-liner with her mother, and flying off on holiday to Corfu!
But Danny was glad that she (very obviously!) hadn’t. Very glad, indeed. For her grimy soles were an incredible— and, yes, beautiful, sight to behold. The dirt and grime, somehow serving to enhance — to wonderfully emphasise — the shapes and contours of the exciting-to-look-at features of her soles.
Yes … the Gothic-looking woman obviously preferred to walk about barefoot, whenever possible; favoured the ‘natural look’, thought Danny. Her glossy-black painted toenails, her one concession to vanity. Unless, of course, her dark adornment wasn’t vanity; was some sort of … dark statement.
Danny wondered, just what it would be like, to sniff those dirty, grimy soles. He wondered what it would be like, to actually inhale, deeply, their in-between-the-toes foot stink. He wondered, just what they would smell like — but, he wasn’t left wondering for long.
The Gothic-looking woman’s mother, in seat 35 C, said excitedly to her look-alike — almost mirror-image — offspring, “Go on then, Miranda! The clock’s ticking! What are you waiting for, girl — you’ve only got ten minutes! Give him what for, while you can. Let him have ‘em! It’s all well and good, sticking your dirty stinky feet right into his stupid face, Miranda — but make him sniff ‘em, girl! Make him sniff ‘em!” she urged her younger-version-of-herself daughter.
Danny couldn’t believe his ears. He was shocked, at hearing the Gothic-looking woman’s mother’s mean-minded, malicious exhortations — but he was incredibly excited, too.
The Gothic-looking woman’s mother then opined, in regretful tones, “Oh, it’s just a pity we’re not allowed to uncover their mouths, and make the lazy little sods lick the soles of our feet clean for us, Miranda … Heh heh heh, I bet they would soon find a job then, heh heh heh,” she chuckled abominably.
Not me, Madam! thought Danny. I’d lick the soles of your feet clean for you any time! Any time!, Danny earnestly wanted to tell her. But, of course, he couldn’t — because Chief Stewardess Julie Davies had sealed his mouth shut with adhesive tape.
For the first time, Danny saw the Gothic-looking woman — Miranda — smile. And her smile, was of pleasure and gratification … This smile was becoming very familiar to Danny: he was seeing rather a lot of it, today!
Miranda smiled, as she lowered the soles of her rather long and narrow, dirty, grimy bare feet, onto Danny’s mouth-sealed, and conveniently positioned, fixed-in-place face.
Miranda smiled, as she curved her rather deep arches around his cheek bones; the pads of her toes, pressing into his forehead for extra grip and stability. She smiled, as she relaxed in her seat, settling her soles and toes firmly into place, in a comfortable, possessive caress … Miranda, was duly claiming her ‘rights’: For ten minutes, he — the Air Purification Technician — was hers. He was all hers! Yes! Yes!! exulted Miranda.
Oh! Miranda was glad — so very glad! — that she had voted for the Authoritarian Female Party. Prime Minister Caroline Flint, she believed, was a woman after her own heart. Oh, after her very own heart! And now, she — Caroline Flint — was actually running the country! And, hallelujah to that!
Caroline Flint and her all-female member government would soon turn Britain around; soon sort out the country’s scrounging, sponging ne’er-do-well’s, of which there were far too many — such as this lazy, workshy, job-dodging good-for-nothing, under her feet.
At the very thought of it — at the very thought, of actually having one of those worthless work-dodgers; one of those shiftless, can’t-be-bothered idlers who wanted to live off her hard-earned tax-pounds, right here, under her feet — in her righteous anger, Miranda exerted more, and then yet more pressure upon Danny’s helpless, fixed-in-place face.
Yes! thought Miranda, exultantly. Yes! Yes!! Under my feet! Under my dirty, stinky feet! And under other female passengers’ feet, too! Where he should stay — until he gets a job … Oh! I feel like giving his stupid, dole-claiming face such a stomp! thought the highly indignant, grossly offended Miranda. Oh, yes, such a painful, crushing — humiliating — stomp. Make him cry! He deserves it! And more! Much, much more! Oh, I just wish there was another opening down there, so that my feet could get at his … If it was up to me, I’d …
Miranda looked at her now wickedly smiling mother, who was still impatiently awaiting the arrival of Alan — Air Purification Technician Wallace — aboard Service Vehicle C. “I can’t wait for mine to get here, Miranda. Trust me: I’ll certainly be giving mine, a bit of what for! Rules, or no rules … I’ll have him bawling for his mammy!”
Miranda, the twenty-five-year-old, Gothic-looking woman in seat 35 D, continued to look down on Danny, resentfully, and glaring nastily all the while as she vented her spleen. “He’s putting me in a bad mood, Mum. A very bad mood … The thought, of him living off my taxes; just staying at home, and doing nothing all day — except watching the telly! The thought, of having to get up early for work in the mornings; scraping ice off the car in winter, and sitting in traffic jams — while he lies in bed, until God knows what time! The thought, of paying taxes every week — to put money in his pockets! … ‘Air Purification Technician’? ‘Air Purification Technician’ …? I’ll give the ruddy little runt, ‘Air Purification Technician’! I’ll give the ruddy little git; the ruddy little job-dodger — the ruddy little parasite! — something to ruddy well purify: Here — ‘Air Purification Technician’ — purify these!”
A moment later, Miranda was relishing her moment. The undersides of Miranda’s long, begrimed toes were roving over Danny’s nose, and then covering his nostrils.
Now, Danny was again doing what was necessary — doing what was required of him by his local Job Centre, under the Authoritarian Female Party’s new Work Motivation Programme — to continue to qualify for his unemployment benefit payments: Fulfilling the obligations of his assigned placement, as an Air Purification Technician.
For, Danny was being ‘obliged’, to inhale Miranda’s ghastly, repulsive, in-between-the-toes foot stink. Being obliged, to sniff up and absorb into his lungs, the profoundly unpleasant, revolting odours; the highly offensive fumes — that, if left ‘unfiltered’, would otherwise contaminate the air quality inside the aircraft cabin — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.
Miranda’s malodorous, putrid, in-between-the-toes foot scent, hit Danny hard! Really hard!!
The smell was awful, appalling, terrible — unbelievable! Yet it was also amazing, mind-blowing, exciting, and … penis-expanding.
Danny felt as though electrified. As though someone had plugged him into some kind of fantastical power outlet and now — like a latter-day Frankenstein’s monster — he was being energised; jolted to life … to pulsating, throbbing life.
Hitherto unknown — undreamed-of! — feelings and sensations, pulsed, throbbed, flowed throughout his entire being, as if from a steadily applied feed of high-voltage power. His body sizzled and his mind crackled as, physically and mentally, he was rocked to his core. Rocked, by the galvanizing upheaval of the exquisite sensations, the overwhelming emotions, that assailed his rapidly overloading senses …
It was the awesome, exhilarating, extreme-close-up sight, of Miranda’s long and narrow, long-toed, rather high-arched, proud and prominent heeled, dirty bare feet!
It was the exciting, thrilling, incomparable feel, of the warm flesh of the Gothic-looking woman’s grimy bare soles, resting, firmly planted — possessing — his disbelieving, fervently adoring face!
It was the smell, of them! Oh, the smell of them! The incredible, mind-shattering, penis-expanding odour, of Miranda’s in-between-the-toes foot scent.
It was the sound of Miranda’s dour-faced, look-alike mother, urging her daughter on with malicious glee: “Go on then, Miranda! Give him what for, while you can. Let him have ‘em! Make him sniff ‘em, girl! Make him sniff ‘em!” And: “Oh, it’s just a pity we’re not allowed to uncover their mouths, and make the lazy little sods lick the soles of our feet clean for us, Miranda … Heh heh heh, I bet they would soon find a job then … heh heh heh.”
It was Miranda’s derisive, sneering, exquisitely humiliating command: “Here — ‘Air Purification Technician’ — purify these!” as she covered his nostrils with the undersides of her toes, thereby committing her heinous olfactory assault upon him: ‘obliging’ him, to sniff up and absorb into his lungs, her dreadful, noxious, in-between-the-toes foot stink — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.
Even on their own … merit, any one of these sensations would have been sufficient to overwhelm him; to take Danny, to … the edge.
But, Miranda; ably assisted by her cruel-minded, malicious-mouthed, look-alike mother, had pushed— no, had propelled, Danny over the edge. Sent him plummeting, so that Danny thought he was falling, tumbling, deeper and deeper, into a fathomless abyss of unparalleled pleasure. Miranda’s dirty, stinky feet, taking possession of his conveniently positioned, sealed-mouthed, fixed-in-place face — and well and truly conquering him.
Danny had never dreamed, that it could ever be like this. Never. After all — how could he? How could he have envisioned such a thing? How could he have ever imagined, that fantasy, that the fantastic, that the stuff of fantasy, would one day actually manifest itself, in real life — in his life? It was beyond Danny’s imagination. But yet — it was, actually happening. And it was happening to him!
It was truly sensational. Exciting. Thrilling. Exhilarating. Mind-blowing.
And arousing. Very arousing, indeed.
And, Danny was getting very hot-under-the-collar bothered — again. In fact, he was getting excited. Very excited. Over-excited … ‘down there’.
And, Danny wanted to do ‘something’ about it — was desperate, to do ‘something’ about it …
Danny wanted to touch himself. He wanted to play with himself. He wanted to pull his penis, in worship.
Danny wanted to pay his solemn ‘devotions’. He wanted to make his sacred ‘sacrifice’. To Miranda. To the twenty-five-year-old, Gothic-looking woman — his Goddess with dirty feet.
And, Danny wanted to pay his … respects, to Miranda, now! Now, in the here-and-now! Now, in real time — in the moment! — and not have to wait until later, when he got home, and replayed in his mind, the …
But, he couldn’t — because Chief Stewardess Julie Davies, had secured his wrists to his service vehicle!
Danny whimpered — could have wept. For, such were the trials, of his horribly torturing affliction.
Once again, via the S.A.P.S. computer, Danny’s head was automatically lowered from the opened panel, which then closed, sealing off the foot space of seat 35 D. And plunged Danny, once again, into the near-darkness of the Flying Pencil’s cramped, dim and dismal fuselage.
And the twenty-five-year-old, Gothic-looking woman — Miranda — with her rather long and narrow, proud and prominent heeled, glossy-black toenailed, grimy-soled, stinky feet, had disappeared from Danny’s sight.
And so had her dour-faced, sucking-on-a-lemon, malicious-mouthed, cruel-minded, giving-’em-what-for, look-alike mother.
Miranda’s ten minutes were up.
* * *
There was then another jolt and, via the S.A.P.S. computer, Service Vehicle D, bearing the over-excited Danny, automatically trundled along on its runners again … and then stopped, with another jolt. Right alongside Service Vehicle C, occupied by Alan — Al, Danny’s former best school pal … but now, his fellow Air Purification Technician.
Looking almost directly upward, Danny saw a number — 22 D.
Danny — and Alan — waited …
Almost simultaneously, the one-foot-square panels almost directly above Danny and Alan’s faces, now opened.
Once again, via the S.A.P.S. computer, Danny and Alan’s upper bodies were being automatically raised; their heads, being angled towards the opened one-foot-square panels.
A moment later, and Danny and Alan’s heads were protruding through the opened panels — into the foot spaces of seats 22 D, and 22 C, respectively.
When Danny’s eyes had once again readjusted to the bright light of the cabin’s interior, Danny saw that, looking down on his conveniently positioned, sealed-mouthed, fixed-in-place face, was an exceptionally beautiful girl of about Danny’s own age. She had blue eyes, and long, white-blonde hair. She wore bright-yellow, flexible, thin rubber-soled flip flops, and her toes were painted in the same attractive bright-yellow colour. Her shapely, beautiful feet, were suntanned to a golden perfection … And, to Danny’s sense of acute disbelief — off utter amazement — he realised who she was. Realised, who those lovely, unforgettable feet belonged to.
For, she was actually Marie! Marie — the ravishing Marie — whose captivating flip flop feet had so enthralled him this morning, at the airport bus stop.
Danny couldn’t believe it. He just could not believe it! It was just too … too incredible. Too awesome!
And, sitting beside Marie — in seat 22 C — was her almost-as-attractive sister, Lisa.
Looking down on Danny, the ravishing Marie gave no sign — absolutely no sign at all — of recognising him from earlier that morning, at the airport bus stop.
Quite evidently, thought Danny, he was a complete and utter stranger to her. Apparently, Marie had no recollection, of her snapping Danny’s heartstrings, one by one. No recollection, of cracking his heart wide open, so that more and more of his adoring feelings for her could come pouring in.
But, why would Marie remember him? thought Danny dejectedly. Danny knew, that the likes of her; the likes of the ravishing Marie, didn’t notice the likes of him. Ever. It was a fact of life — of his life, anyway.
But, Marie was noticing him now! She had summoned him, hadn’t she? Summoned Danny to her magnificent presence, to ‘attend’ her.
Summoned him — an Air Purification Technician — to come and sniff up all of the fumes from her stinky, flip flop feet. Hadn’t she? Yes, she had — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.
Marie’s bright-yellow, flexible, thin rubber-soled flip flops, just like her sister Lisa’s — oh! they were all wearing flip flops today, it seemed — were slap-slap-slapping away against the bottoms of the heels of her playful, happy feet.
Marie smiled happily, as she looked down on Danny. Smiled as she looked down on … the conveniently positioned, taped-over-mouthed, fixed-in-place face that was peering up at her, bug-eyed, from the hole that had just opened up in the floor.
From Service Vehicle C, alongside Danny, Danny heard Alan’s “Nnnnn! Nnnnnnnn!!” of outraged protest and acute distress, as Marie’s almost-as-attractive sister, Lisa, began ‘obliging’ Alan to sniff up the highly disagreeable fumes, emanating from the soles of her stinky, flip flop feet — so that the Sunshine Holidays passengers wouldn’t have to.
Well! thought Danny, of Al, his former best school pal: You are in trouble, old mate. If you can’t even cope with Marie’s sister, the drop-dead-gorgeous Lisa … God help you, then, when you arrive at seat 35 C, and Miranda’s mum gives you “A bit of what for.” Because she will. And then, you’ll know about it! Then, you’ll have something to complain about! … In fact, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised, if Miranda’s mum (“Rules, or no rules …”) actually uncovers your mouth, and …
Lisa was laughing and giggling with abandon. Laughing uninhibitedly — hysterically, almost — her feet being so very ticklish.
Oh! thought Lisa, this was so much fun! Ha ha ha ha! It was such a hoot! A real scream! Ha ha ha ha! It tickled like crazy! That was almost the best part … almost.
What was better; what was a lot more enjoyable, thought Lisa, rather darkly, was seeing the Air Purification Technician’s pathetically imploring eyes, and feeling his captive, squirming face under the soles of her dominating, tormenting, stinky bare feet.
Not, that his fixed-in-place face had much in the way of squirming room; evading his fate, an impossibility.
Even so … Alan was squirming a bit too much for Lisa’s liking; insistent, upon his futilely trying to escape her stinky, nose-capturing, nostril-covering toes. Becoming irksome. Spoiling her relaxation. It was almost an insult!
Soon, Alan was severely trying Lisa’s patience; pushing her tolerance. Sorely testing her limits.
Oh! How tiresome he is, thought the easily annoyed, short-tempered Lisa, in her rapidly increasing dissatisfaction with the Air Purification Technician she had summoned. How dare he? thought Lisa, in angry indignation. I will not tolerate this! And why, in Heaven’s name, should I? How dare he, attempt to shirk his … obligations? Well, I won’t have it!
In fact, Alan wasn’t only being tiresome; he was now actually becoming ‘boring’ — Lisa’s Number One unforgivable offence. If he won’t behave … Right! That’s it!
Lisa put her foot down — literally. Raising her right foot, Lisa slammed the bottom of her bare heel down on Alan’s nose; three times, in quick succession. Stomp stomp stomp. “Keep still!” commanded Lisa, imperiously — just in case Alan hadn’t got the message.
Immediately, Alan’s eyes began to water, from moderate pain and acute humiliation. But Alan immediately behaved; ceased his tiresome squirming — stopped being ‘boring’. He had got Lisa’s message.
Oh! Lisa didn’t know or understand a single thing about stupid, boring old politics. Lisa didn’t care a jot, about the silly old thing. Couldn’t care less, about the old duffers; the ancient fuddy-duddies who squabbled like unruly school children about God-knows-what at Prime Minister’s Questions, in the House of Commons.