Goddess Shelly removes the blindfold section of to the leather hood and bends over me to look directly into my eyes.
“You are totally helpless now, completely under my control. I could gag you, abandon you, lock the door behind me, and you would probably die of thirst before anybody got worried enough to call the police and break the door down. Are you scared?”
I look back into her beautiful eyes and say, “No, I’m not scared. I trust you completely and absolutely. And I love you very much.”
Goddess Shelly smiles in satisfaction and replaces the blindfold over my eyes.
“My fingers need some exercise,” she says, which makes me very happy indeed.
She proceeds to tickle torture my ribs and armpits, digging in with her strong fingers, especially with her strong thumbs in my armpits. I am soon howling with laughter. I can barely wriggle and it amuses her how I nevertheless try to pull away from her fingers.
“Where are you going? Nowhere. What can you do about it? Nothing,” she taunts me, never ceasing to dig her fingers into my rib cage.
“Yes,” I manage to say in the midst of my laughter, “it goes on until you decide it should stop. You have all the power and all the control.”
“And?” she prompts me.
“And that’s just the way it should be!” I respond.
“Yes, that’s just the way it should be,” she acknowledges, once again digging both thumbs under my arms.
When she is finally done tickling me, I lie there hot and sweaty, sore under the arms, and exhausted.
“Do you need a bathroom break?” she asks, poking me in the abdomen to make it clear to me that I do need one. “Don’t bother to answer because you’re not going to get one,” she adds. “Unless you want to beg for one, most abjectly.”
I know that means that she will untie me and let me go to the bathroom but she wants me to beg for it first.
“Given how long it will take to untie me,” I say, “and how badly I need to go already, I do most humbly beg you to begin untying me so that I can have a bathroom break by six o’clock.”
She does begin getting me loose, first unlocking my thumb cuffs. It takes about half an hour to get me untied, with me helping after my hands are free. (It took well over an hour to put me into the bondage pictured above.)
After using the bathroom, I kneel on the floor in front of Goddess Shelly, who is sitting on the couch, and await her instructions.
“Kiss the top of each boot, 500 times,” she says.
She uses her iPhone, dealing with texts and emails, while I comply. She then just points to her other boot and I kiss the instep of that one 500 times as well.
Goddess Shelly, still sitting on the couch, crosses one leg over the other, exposing the corrugated rubber sole. “Lick the sole of my boot until I tell you to stop,” she says. “Count, but count silently. Don’t stop until I tell you.”
[Note about health: People may think that it is a big health risk to lick the sole of a boot that has been worn outdoors, and they may be correct. But let me note my own experience. I have licked the soles of shoes, sneakers, and boots of women who have walked outdoors in them on dozens of occasions and I have never once become ill. I have been gagged with grimy, dirty, smelly socks fresh off a woman’s feet over a dozen occasions and never once become ill. I have licked food, sweat, and dirt off of women’s bare feet on dozens of occasions and never once become ill.
On the other hand, I have had food poisoning five or six times in my life. One of the worst times, when I was vomiting on and off all night long and plagued with diarrhea the next day, was from eating scallops at a fancy and very expensive seafood restaurant near Grand Central Terminal.
I can offer no explanation for this; I am not a physician. But I feel safer licking the soles of Goddess Shelly’s boots than I would feel eating a rare hamburger from a fast food outlet.]
I lick the entire length of the sole of her right boot, from heel to toe, over and over again. She continues to type on her iPhone. After a considerable time she speaks.
“Stop,” she says. “How many was that?”
“Exactly 300 licks,” I respond.
“Is that all?” asks Goddess Shelly. “I guess a lick takes much longer than a kiss. Go up to 400.”
I continue with a hundred more licks. She crosses her legs in the opposite direction and orders me to lick the sole of her left boot 400 times as well. It takes a considerable time to do so. When finished I look up at her hopefully, knowing that I may now get a reward.
Goddess Shelly removes her boots, one by one. She holds each one out for me to sniff the inside. She is wearing thick black athletic socks under the boots. She shoves her socked feet into my face, one by one, allowing me to sniff the socks for about a full minute. She removes the socks, one by one, revealing her narrow, elegant size 8½ bare feet. She holds out the socks for me to sniff again.
“You will get these socks to keep as your holiday present,” she tells me, “but only after you’ve licked them, later. For now, you may lick my bare soles, 40 times each.”
I cradle the heel of her left foot in my hand, and lick the sole, from heel to toe, over and over again. This is the greatest privilege she allows me, to lick the bare soles of her sacred feet. I complete the 40 licks all too soon.
“Thank you, thank you ever so much,” I say, kissing the ball of her foot.
Without a word, she puts her right foot in front of me and I do the same, licking her sole 40 times, kissing the ball of her foot afterward, and thanking her.
“The multiplier is eleven,” she says.
Having gotten 80 licks on her bare soles, this means that I will pay for it by being spanked with 880 swats. She has five implements to choose from: a ping-pong paddle, a wooden spoon, a wooden spatula, a wooden paddle, 18 inches long, and a bamboo cane with a leather handle, also 18 inches long. I get down on all fours in position for her to spank me. She has me kiss the bamboo cane (the most feared of the five implements) eight times before she begins.
She spanks me hard enough to hurt and cause redness but not hard enough to bruise. I watch her bare feet as she spanks me. (In the five years that I’ve known her, she only bruised my bottom once, having gotten carried away with a very long spanking.)
“I’ll bet you’re glad that’s over,” she says, and I heartily agree.
She sits down and puts her socks back on. “Lick the sole of each sock 80 times,” she orders.
I lick the fuzzy sole of her right sock eighty times.
“May I please have some water to swallow your sock lint?” I ask when I’m done.
She allows me drink water from a bottle.
“Thank you, it is a great honor to swallow your sock lint,” I say.
We repeat the same process on her left sock. When it’s done, she takes off the now wet socks and puts them in a zip-lock bag. She hands me the bag.
“Thank you so much,” I say. “I will treasure them.” I put the socks on my bookshelf.
Goddess Shelly now hands me the tube of Shea It Isn’t So Foot Cream and puts her feet up to be massaged.
“Begin the massage while I decide what we’ll have for dinner,” she says.
As I massage her extremely lovely feet, she looks over the 15 or so take-out menus that I have for her in a folder. Occasionally she gives me directions, such as “more slowly,” “do the arch now,” or “press a little harder.”
Finally she says, “I’ve almost decided. It will be Indian or Italian.”
I express no preference since it is our custom that she makes all the decisions about food and already knows what I like best, what I will be willing to eat, and what I won’t eat. She tells me to stop the massage and goes over to the phone. I can tell it is the Italian restaurant she has called when she describes what five toppings she wants on our large pizza. She also asks for a side order of steamed broccoli and tiramisu for dessert.
While waiting for the food to be delivered, she lies face down on the bed, feet extended over the edge for me to resume massaging. I have a beautiful view of both bare soles, the softest and most beautiful soles I’ve ever seen (which is what I tell her often), as I massage. Although hungry, I am sad to hear the intercom go off as the delivery person has arrived downstairs.
Goddess Shelly lets him in and goes outside the door to wait for him at the elevator. (I still have a collar, wrist cuffs, and ankle cuffs locked on me.) She pays him out of an envelope labeled “dinner” that I have left out. It has some 20 dollar bills, a 10 dollar bill, a 5 dollar bill, and five singles. (This is because delivery people will notoriously claim to have no change to get a bigger tip than you wish to give them. Taxi drivers around here are the same, so bring lots of 5’s and singles if you visit New York City.)
Goddess Shelly tells me to sit at my desk and brings me a tray with one slice of pizza and some broccoli. We talk as we eat. When I’ve finished it all, she brings me another slice of pizza. The pizza is excellent, topped with mushrooms, onions, olive slices, green pepper, and eggplant. Broccoli is not my favorite vegetable but I do eat it.
I am surprised when she gives me a third slice of pizza but I take it happily. She even gives me half the dessert and the tiramisu is wonderful.
After dinner I massage her feet once more and keep doing that until she wishes to go home.
At the door she verifies that our next session will be in three weeks. She orders me to kiss each of her boots five times. She unlocks the five padlocks holding the bondage devices on me.
“Your quota will be three,” she says. “I was going to make it two, but I’m feeling kind today.”
This means that I will be permitted to gratify myself three times before our next session.
“Thank you so much for a wonderful day,” I say, “and for the generous quota. See you in three weeks.”
I am sad as she leaves. I begin to gather up and pack away all of the ropes and equipment.
The End