A little reward? Worshipping her feet and cleanup of her soiled pussy not reward enough? The privilege of providing her a well-deserved orgasm should be enough, right? I suppose I’m being disingenuous saying I wouldn’t like being … but I shouldn’t get my hopes up. Better play it safe. “But, serving You and giving you pleasure is all the reward I require, Mistress,” I reply.

“Mmm,” she regards me with amusement, “what a lovely thing to say.” She sits up, looks me in the eye. “But don’t pretend you wouldn’t enjoy something a little more …,” she teases and looks down at my crotch when she emphasizes “little.” Then she adds, “because that … sure looks like it’s just aching for something more.” My cheeks flush, and my heart speeds up a beat. “I mean … I … I guess …” I stammer out, flustered and eager. She reaches a hand into the V of her blouse to the dainty gold chain which drapes into her cleavage and teases out its pendant - the key to my chastity cage. Suddenly an image flashes in my mind of that key bouncing on its chain while she was savaged by her office lover earlier today. Did it dangle as he plowed into her from behind? Did he notice it? Did it at all remind her of me in that moment? Or was she too consumed with her lust and too filled with his cock to be aware of anything else? A moment’s reverie, and I snap to, feeling my clitty throbbing against the cage. She notices.

“Oh look, it’s just dying to get out!” She giggles. It jumps again at the teasing, and she laughs some more. “I realize that I forgot to let you out two weeks ago. You must be so frustrated! But you were sweet to not mention it.” She runs a finger along the chain, dangling the key a little. “Well, would you like to be released tonight?” This excites me but confuses me. Do I dare ask? “Come on, pet,” she says, “I want to hear you beg to be let out.” This is always so difficult. My submissive mindset and training tell me to never ask for something of myself, yet it will please her to hear me beg, and that’s more important, right?

“Uh … I mean … if it pleases you, Mistress …” I stammer. She looks away, breaking our eye contact. “That’s not begging, my pet.” I have to think for a second, get up my courage, and give up one more shred of dignity. “Mistress, will you please let me out of my chastity cage? I’m just aching to be free, just for a little bit. Please? I promise to be so good and show you gratitude. Please?”

She thinks for a second, regarding the dangling key. “Okay. Do you promise to behave yourself and do everything I say?” She turns her eyes back to me and renders me incapable of protest. “Yes, of course, Mistress!” I quickly assent. “Do you promise not to cum?” Oh, this is disappointing, but it is her right to decide this. “Yes, Mistress,” I agree with a little defeat in my tone. “… unless I say so, of course,” she adds with a smile, and a jolt of anticipation goes through my mind and caged cock. “Very well then,” she says with a devious smirk. “First strip down to just your stockings, panties, and bra. And do it slowly in front of me.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I reply as I first step out of my flats and set them to the side. Then I reach under my maid dress to tug down my ruffle skirt. Next I reach for the back zipper to my maid’s outfit - classic black, satin, with lots of ruffles. I unzip slowly and turn around so Mistress may see it expose my shoulders and back. I feel so exposed and under her gaze. I turn back around and my cage is protruding from the slit in my panties. I see Mistress is looking at it, smirking and amused. “Oh, poor thing,” she pitied, “come here, and let me have a closer look.” I take a few steps to her and she takes my balls and cage in her hand, looking up at me from the sofa. “I bet that’s just so frustrating for you, especially when you look at this body of mine.” With this, she unbuttons her blouse and takes it off. Her cleavage is so beautifully framed by a black lace balconette bra, the key to my cage resting in the cleft of her breasts. She then undoes the center clasp of the bra. It parts, freeing her lovely full breasts, nipples seductively at attention. “You like looking at this body, I know. It’s obvious. You’re practically bulging out of every gap in that cage now.” I look down and see this to be true. “Well let’s give you some relief.” She takes the key on its chain, inserts it in the keyhole of the cage and turns. The device comes loose and she pulls off the small front cage. Immediately my cock begins to fill out. “I know you’re dying to touch it, but you must not. Put your hands behind your back and keep them there. I’ll do the touching.” I’m now totally erect. Mistress leans to her left and opens a box on the end table. Inside are a number of amusements and accoutrements, including a pair of black latex gloves and a bottle of lube. She dons the gloves and squirts a little lube onto one gloved hand. She looks me in the eye as she begins to slowly caress my erection. Then gradually Mistress increases to slowly stroking me, enveloping me in her viscous glove. It’s absolute Heaven. Not only are the physical sensations pleasurable, but there’s just something about the latex glove that really excites me on a deep psychological level. That she must put a barrier, a sterile medical membrane between her hand and me, adds a token of detachment, as if she is a doctor and I am a mere specimen. Rather than this being an intimate sexual act, I feel I am being manipulated in a procedure. It is diminishing, yet it arouses me even more.

In fact, it arouses me so much I’m already squirming and whimpering. “That must feel so good. Does it, pet?” I can barely make words. “Yes … it’s … so … mmmm …good.” At this, she lets go. Leaving me writhing to make contact with her hand again. “Maybe you’re feeling a little too good, pet. You are not to cum, you understand?” I try to whimper out a “Yes.” As much as my body wants to continue, my mind - and my soul - knows she is right. But it’s difficult to back down from the near climax, and she can see that. “Need some help getting a hold of yourself pet?” she asks, but doesn’t need an answer. She reaches to the floor and grabs one of her flats. She holds my erection straight out with one hand gripping it at the base, and with the other hand she holds the flat like a paddle and brings it down on the head with a smack. The pain is sharp, intense, and shocking. I wince and writhe, I gasp. “Doesn’t that help to get your attention?” It sure does. As the initial pain subsides, however, I feel incredibly aroused. She sees this too. “Oh, maybe you like that a little? Huh? Do you like when Mistress smacks your pathetic cock?” Do I say yes or no? I hesitate. “Let’s find out,” she says and smacks my engorged penis head again. It hurts, but with more of a pleasurable ache and even more arousal. “This will teach you to not cum until I say so.” She then smacks my erection three more times in a row. I recoil in pain and try to hide my further growing arousal. She pauses. “I know how much how much you lust after my feet and my shoes. So I love punishing your arousal with them too.” I look down at the shoe in her hand. I’ve always had a fetish for women’s shoes, but rather than the typical fixation on high heels, I really find flats alluring. “Yes, you are obsessed with these flats aren’t you?” I nod sheepishly. “Well, let’s see about that. Get down on your knees.” I comply, not sure where this is going. She takes the shoe, turns it in her hand so that the open inner sole was facing my face. I can see the print of her foot, its subtle shape stained with perspiration and many days of wear. “Put your face in there,” she instructs, so I do. “Now, inhale.” I take a deep breath and the scent of sweat and leather fills my head. I find it intoxicating. It is an intimate experience of her body, and yet humiliating. “You love that smell. I know. It brings you so close to what you desire.” I nod and breathe it in again. “Kiss that sole.” I pucker my lips and press them to the soft leather. I am now kissing where her feet were a short time ago as she was ravished … no, fucked, by a man. “Next time I wear these; I’ll be walking on your kiss.” My erection jumps at this idea. She continues, “See this shoe can punish and humiliate you. It can also give you pleasure.” I catch her intense gaze. She lowers the shoe to my election and slides it over my eager cock, as if putting a slipper on a foot. “It can be a sort of pussy,” she says as she barely moves the flat forward and back again. “You’ll never get to fuck my pussy; that’s for real men. But you can fuck my shoe instead. Try it.” She stops moving the flat but holds it still. “Go on,” she says in a teaching voice, “fuck my shoe.” I move my hips forward and push my erection into the shoe, rubbing the underside against the soft leather. “Doesn’t that feel good?” I thrust again slowly. “Yes, Mistress.” She smiles and looks me in the eye. “Good. Fuck my shoe like you wish you could fuck my pussy.” I thrust in a little and pull back, then thrust in again. It feels so good. Again, the mix of physical sensation and psychological humiliation is so intense. “You wish you could fuck my pussy like a real man does. Like that real man fucked me today. But you can’t. All you get to fuck is my dirty, worn shoe. And you love it.” This turns me on even more and I speed up my thrusting, hips pumping, pushing my cock head as far into the tight space of the toe as I can. She goads me again, “Fuck my shoe!” I continue, feeling drips of precum leaking out and lubricating the sole, making it slick and increasing the pleasurable friction. “You want to cum in that shoe, don’t you, pet?” I nod helplessly. “If you can cum from fucking my shoe, go ahead. But you must tell me when you are starting to cum, and you must keep your hands behind your back, understand?” I nod and whimper, “yes,” as I pump faster and faster. My eyes close. My mind is swirling with such an intense mixture of thoughts and emotions: pleasure, pain, humiliation - Kissing her feet, licking her pussy, hearing her talk about fucking a man, cleaning his cum from her and swallowing it, delivering her to orgasm, being teased, being spanked with her shoe in the most intimate and cruel place, and now getting my release by fucking that shoe that fits her beautiful foot. But most of all it is the worship and devotion to all that is her which is so overwhelming … suddenly I am at the point of no return … that acceleration to climax … I thrust into the shoe like it was her very own pussy which I worship and desire. “Mistress … I’m about to …”

With that, she withdraws the shoe. I open my eyes and see that she holds it just below my erection. I helplessly thrust into the air and try to contact that shoe but can’t. I need the completion so badly, but it’s just out of reach. My body tenses, ass clenches. I strain at the air. It feels like an orgasm, but frustratingly incomplete. “Cum in my shoe, now.” At this command, semen leaks from my cock. Not a victorious spurt but a feeble drool. It runs and drips into the waiting receptacle of the outstretched flat. Several more opalescent ropes of cum follow. Each oozes from me as my cock pulses and twitches. It all drains onto the stained leather of the upper sole. “That’s right. That’s a good pet. Give me all your cummies.” She has ruined my orgasm, and not for the first time. Ruined orgasms are very hot in theory, in the conception of them, but when I’m in that actual moment I want nothing so badly than to reach and jerk off fully, and achieve the full release. But I dare not, and I accept that she will not allow me the full climax.

As the leaking cum slows, she raises the shoe to scrape the last string of it off the head of my penis with the edge of the heel cup. “See what you’ve done?” I glance down and see a small pool of my cum inside the flat. “You’ve soiled my pretty shoe. And now you’re going to clean it up.”

She places the shoe on the rug in front of me, next to its twin. I look to her face for kindness, but I find none. “That’s right. Get your face in there, and lick up your mess.” Normally after a full orgasm, I wouldn’t want to eat my cum, but without true release I am still horny and desperate for more, and completely in her thrall. I bend forward and lower my face into the shoe, like a dog to its bowl. I’m greeted with that musky smell of the sweat and leather again, but now with the distinctive odor of semen. I lap at it hungrily, eager to obey her. It’s thickness and the sweet saltiness remind me of her lover’s seed spilling from her well fucked pussy, and it makes me lick up more and more. “Yes, lick up your cum. Get my shoe nice and clean again.” I comply.

As I do my best to finish the job, I hear the snap of the latex gloves being removed and set aside. I feel Mistress’s bare fingers run through my long hair from her seat on the sofa just above me. I relish the affection, even though I still ache for a full orgasm. “Mmm. That’s a good pet. What an eager tongue you have.” She giggles. “Maybe it’s time to thank me for this now?” She giggles again. I love that giggle.

(To be continued)