Black Boots

Discussion in 'Member fiction' started by Ms. Joanne, Aug 1, 2019.

  1. Ms. Joanne
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    Ms. Joanne Active Trans woman

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    You stand within the beautiful surroundings of my boudoir, yet you are so still and so very quiet, almost like an immovable statue. I have made you wait for considerable time, so that you may learn the virtue of patience. It is a lesson I must repeat often, to temper your impulsiveness, and put paid to your base instincts.

    You are an impetuous animal at heart, a beast which must be constantly trained, and brought to heel. I know what you’re thinking, as you wait there so calmly, you think only of yourself, of your own despicable pleasure. You want to gaze over my beautiful body, and ravage me with your eyes, to feast on the sight of my smooth porcelain flesh, and become drunk on your own wanton lust. But such thoughts will not avail you, since you know they must never be given voice or acted on.

    For you are a slave, a weak flesh puppet, that masquerades as a semblance of a man. It is for me alone to choose how I use you. What will be my whim today you wonder, shall I simply tease you as you crave, or will I be more capricious and decide to break you instead?

    You’re considering this now and it drives you to distraction, because I can already hear the cogs in your mind turning, clicking into place… just like the lock which secures you in chastity. It’s as if you are but a clockwork thing, something I can wind up as I choose… so much like a cherished toy!

    But you know not all toys last forever, no matter how much pleasure they may bring the owner. And toys once adored, can also become a great disappointment in time, especially if they bore me. If I choose to play with my toy no longer… I may just cast it aside, forever! For a toy can always be upgraded, traded in, or replaced. And that thought fills you with fear, causes you abject dismay, at the thought of being utterly dismissed from my service. For without me, you would have no true purpose, and become nothing more than insignificant flotsam, cast adrift on a bottomless sea by the cruel tides of life.

    So you must be a good slave, always on your best behaviour. You wouldn’t want my ire to fall upon you, or to feel my wrath. Nor would you wish to taste the stinging lash of my whip again, as it caresses your back or buttocks, with each punishing stroke. You have known that punishment before, as you whimpered just like the pathetic bitch you are, begging me to stop… was it forty five strokes or fifty? I must admit, I have forgotten myself, since it’s so easy to get carried away when you grievously vex me.

    But today, I have decided I shall be charitable, and that my boon is to offer you a delightful tease, another way for you to appreciate your Goddess. Isn’t that so considerate of me? Of course it is… for I am a fountain of kindness, a wellspring of goodness, which on occasion I may permit you to take the smallest sip from.

    And now you hear the sound of perfume being sprayed, as sweet jasmine fills the air and floods your senses. That heady fragrance, so sweet, so deliciously tantalising and exhilarating, stirring your arousal. Yet you dare not break my commandment by looking up, since you are not permitted to see me preparing myself. But you do desperately ache for me to emerge, don’t you?

    As you listen you can hear a delightful squeaking sound, and you know what that is… for it plays on your desire. The sound of my PVC boots echoes in your ears, as the material rubs together so divinely, my delicious black and very shiny boots. And now you can hear a zip, being pulled up ever so slowly, prolonging your expectation, teasing and tormenting you. Your thoughts are so preoccupied now, as you hope for the merest hint of them, the slightest stolen glance… but you know you cannot look up. It’s truly maddening, as you hear the sound of the second zip, being traced along the glossy shaft of my boot, and your own shaft strains with an intense longing… but it can do nothing when bound so tightly in your chastity device.

    You know you must be careful now, so as not to let your arousal cause any drips, no filthy wet patches of pre-cum, on my luxurious red carpet. For you know that I would force your face down with a firm gloved hand, and have you licking up your mess in an instant… until your tongue becomes so rough and raw, like sandpaper.

    Another sound of squeaking fills you with delight, as you become aware that I have risen from my stool. I bid you to look up at me as I approach. Your gaze first meets my heels, how like vicious daggers they are. You wonder whether I will probe you with them, and press them deep into your flesh. For the thought of that exquisite pain excites you, as you long for nothing more than to become my human footstool. However today, I choose to sit comfortably upon a red velvet covered chair. I cross my luscious legs, and you are mesmerised by the sight of my shiny black calves, observing the way the light catches the material. How they dazzle you, almost hypnotic, as my foot bounces to and fro.

    I instruct you to approach and kneel at my feet. Your heart is racing at being so close to me, feeling the adrenaline coursing through you. This is your deepest pleasure, your darkest fetish, to worship my beautiful black boots, as they deserve to be worshipped.

    In an agreeably amused tone, I command you to lick the toe of my outstretched right boot. You cannot comply fast enough, the smell of the PVC augments your compulsion, appeases your fetish, and you wish for nothing more than to please me. The material so smooth and cool, as your tongue lovingly laps across the lustrous surface, filling you with ecstasy. I direct you to pay special attention to any dirt which may have gathered on them, nothing must mar the sheer perfection of my boots, and I expect them to be exceedingly well polished.

    I tell you now that some grime may have become stuck to my heel, I want it gone and I expect you to suck that heel completely clean! You lips surround it with longing desire, as I push my foot teasingly into your face. The heel goes ever deeper into your mouth, which serves to make you strain even harder, and you moan with satisfaction, as I face fuck you with my sharp slender heel. It is isn’t the first time you’ve had something black and hard deep inside your throat, since you recall gagging on my large strapon the other evening, as you gorged yourself like a glutton, and became so deeply aroused, while my mocking laughter rang in your ears.

    I thrust my heel ever harder, and faster into your mouth. You want to gag on it, but you know that you must resist, for the feeling brings you such utter bliss, and you want to relish every moment of such enchanting pleasure. Sensing your joy, I withdraw my heel and a booted foot pushes you to the floor. You tumble slightly, fresh dribble runs out of your mouth, but you quickly catch it with two hands, so as not to mar my pretty carpet.

    Ordering you to lie on your back, I stand up, and then press one dagger heel into your balls. The pain is excruciating and makes you almost faint, but the thrill is so worth it, your device feeling so incredibly small and tight now.

    As you recover your senses, I have you sit up slightly, so I can securely bind your arms behind your back, with thick black leather manacles. Momentarily I also apply manacles to your ankles. I force you back down, and place the chair over your legs, keeping them firmly together. You are rendered powerless… inert.

    I giggle with playful laughter, as I start to unzip the boot covering my right leg. Within a pleasurable minute I place it on the floor to one side. You marvel at my wondrous, black glossy pantyhose, admiring the shine of my glossy red toenails. Your eyes beg me to run my nylon covered foot over your naked body. I run my foot over those stinging balls, soothing away and lessening the earlier pain. I let it linger there for a short while, and then move my foot up your body, towards your chest, teasing your hard nipples with silky nylon.

    You moan with pleasure, and your desperation amuses me. For I know you want nothing more than that nylon covered foot, to trace its way over your face. To have it caress your features, and let you smell the last fading hint of PVC, as the sheer elation of rapturous oblivion takes you.

    Will I be kind today I wonder, shall I let you suck on those nylon covered toes? No I shall instead be cruel and torment you. I slip back into my discarded boot and tightly zip it up, before stroking the material with my red talons.

    A murmur of disappointment escapes your lips. However I am not unkind, you’ve had such a lovely tease, and there is even more joy to come.

    I charge you to close your eyes tightly. Within a moment you can feel a leather strap being tightened around the back of your head, but you dare not resist. As I force your mouth open and the large rubber penis gag slips inside, the straps are then buckled and secured with a padlock.

    “At least you now have something else to suck on,” I state, giggling with laughter. And with that I grab my book, relax into my chair and rest my beautiful black boots firmly on your chest.


     
  2. BlackEclectiCat
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    I love these lines. Something about the senses that makes it worthwhile. I love the control you possess over your slave as you should have. Very lovely!
     
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  3. Ms. Joanne
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    Ms. Joanne Active Trans woman

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    Thank you Cat. My thoughts when writing erotica is that it should appeal on all levels. The imagination, the smell, the taste, the touch. Anticipation and expectation are also powerful elements. :)
     
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  4. BlackEclectiCat
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    As it should! I should write another one but my creative energies have been channeled elsewhere. One of these days I'll write another one. :)
     
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  5. Ms. Joanne
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    Ms. Joanne Active Trans woman

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    I'm sure it will be exceptional when you do. :) Creativity often comes and goes in phases I find, we have to be very much in the mood for it to be as perfect as we'd like. And as writers we both have very high expectations and are our own worst critics.
     
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