Is it my imagination, or is there enough sexual tension in the air today to burn the house down? My roommate. My God. My lovely dancer roommate...I lie back on my bed and think about her stepping through my bedroom doorway wearing her five inch high heeled ankle boots, a black nylon, see-through robe open from her neck to her knees, black panties and bra. I would be smoking a cigarette, as I am now, when she casually asks me,
"How do you think this outfit will go over at the club?" her words slicing through this dusty, dark basement apartment we share. She's smoking. Taking a big drag, she exhales in my direction to punctuate her question. Stands six feet tall in her heels. I'm tongue-tied. Hand trembles slightly as I bring my cigarette to my lips. Ravenous eyes feast on her; but mostly I drink in the sight of her long, beautiful, powerful, muscular legs, ending in the lace-up, pointy stiletto heeled, black felt boots. My cock swells up till it's stretching down my pant leg.
With an arched-eyebrow, mischievous look she stares at my growing interest. Finally I answer, choosing words with great care.
"You look sinfully majestic. Any man would gladly leave his wife and kids and empty his bank account for you...how could he resist your power, your glory, your deliciously wicked beauty."
She smiles like a Cheshire cat, steps closer to me in my little boy's room on my little boy's bed, hard and excited like I've never seen a seductively attired woman before. With hands on her hips, she looks down on me, sitting on the bed, from the towering platform of her heels. I want to drop to my knees in complete submission to her. Can already feel my knees hitting the cold, hard, black linoleum floor, chipped and worn and faded like me. While she stands majestic, hasn't reached her peak of beauty and power. Imagine worshipping her strong legs with awkward kisses and caresses like a boy who has never even touched a woman. Her words from our argument a few days ago ring out in my mind, "Pathetic Man!"
And so I feel in her presence, weak kneed, weak willed, groveling and pathetic. She senses this and slowly lifts her leg up till her sensuous black boot is stepping on my thigh just inches from my erection. Slowly reach out my hand to caress her boot, hoping she won't tell me no. Sigh with pleasure perfect as I feel the shape of her high arched foot through the skintight black boot, laces parted in the middle like a vagina, revealing a tease of flesh crisscrossed by black laces. She nudges her foot closer to my cock as I caress her muscular calve, ecstatic she has permitted me to do this. Whimper to my Dark Queen,
"Step on my aching cock, please."
Ruffles her fingers through my hair like a pet, rakes her long fingernails across my neck, under my chin.
"Who's the boss?" she asks.
"You are, absolutely, without question," I stammer.
"Then don't ever tell me what to do again," inserting her long middle finger into my mouth. I suck like a baby. And as I do so, eyes closed, I feel the sole of her boot step on my stiff cock. At first the pressure is light and I am delirious with pleasure. But then she increases the pressure and pleasure becomes pain. I suck her finger harder, not wanting to make any sound. She keeps increasing the pressure. Hold her foot in my hands, the object of my absolute pleasure and pain. Suddenly there is a popping sound in my head. Rushing realization: I no longer have to save face; no longer have to deny who or what I am. I abandon myself to this pain becoming pleasure of unequaled proportion, abandon myself to her power and my submission -- the joy, the privilege to be under her foot. My hips buck up to meet the force of her foot. She withdraws her finger from my mouth.
"That's enough," sternly. She steps back and stands, feet apart, hands on hips.
"You're going to do all the dishes today and wash my clothes and hang them up while I'm at work, aren't you?"
"Of course. With pleasure."
"That's a good boy...now get on your knees in front of me...NOW!" the force of her command slices the afternoon air like a knife. I comply immediately.
I pull my stiff cock out of my pants and begin stroking it on my knees. Pause just a moment to put spit on the palm of my hand.
"Don't waste my time. You've got about 30 seconds to shoot your come on the floor before I leave," she says, robe parted, two fingers rubbing the taut black nylon over her pussy. I gaze at her beautiful, flat, white stomach, the curve of her legs, the perfect sneer on her face, painted mouth, eyes ablaze, burning right through me. Spill on the floor inches from her boots.
"Mama's dirty little masturbator," stepping back as I spasm. "Little Jerk Off," sarcastically, as I give up the last thick drops to the cold, black, cruel floor.
"Lick it up," she commands. "NOW!"
Bend down to lick up my warm come from the dirty floor.
"Lick it, dog," as she turns and walks out of my room. I know I'll probably come between the dishes and her laundry thinking about her, the Dark Queen I obey, living in the dusky basement apartment we share, chained to my desire for her.