Her First slave

Girls in their teens weren’t supposed to know all the things Helen knew about boys and sexuality. But Helen knew that sex wasn’t just a matter of humping your brains out. There were all kinds of needs people had, needs they’d either been born with or which had been developed.

She already knew where her needs lay. Ever since she could remember having a sexuality, she knew she wanted to be the boss. She knew she was sexually dominant. Thank goodness, she thought, that men are easily dominated. They’re particularly vulnerable if a woman knows how to recognize a guy’s hang-ups. One of the things which go hand-in-hand with a guy submitting to a female, she reflected, is his fascination with certain objects or body parts which enhance a woman’s appearance, be they lingerie, breasts, leather, high heels, delicate feet or any other turn-ons or fetishes.

It was the shoe and foot freaks Helen could easily and quickly identify, and she kept her eyes open for them. In high school, she knew who all the secret foot fetishists were even if they didn’t know it themselves. It wasn’t difficult. There were always those few guys in class who got caught up, seeming in hypnotic gazes, by the little foot shows most girls did subconsciously. In Helen’s case, it was on purpose. She wanted to know who lusted after her feet and shoes. Most of the guys were into their macho numbers of eye-balling boobs and ass. But a few, such as a guy named Phil, had interests that went a bit beyond the norm.

At the beginning of the year, Helen had seen Phil in class watching her dangle her high heel off the end of her nyloned toe and play with it, slapping it against the sole of her foot. He was as mesmerized by that performance as any guy who’d ogled her breasts. When he asked her out a few days later, she was quick to say yes.

That night, when they were parked near the stream at the local lovers’ lane and were into light petting, Phil kept reaching for her feet. He ran his hands over the patent leather of her shoe and encircled the high heel with his hand.

They dated a few more times, their petting in the car late at night getting more and more intense. By then, Helen had allowed him to suck on her nipples and to touch her over her panties. Each time they were together, Phil managed to pay some sort of attention to her feet and heels. Of course, she rubbed his cock through his pants and worked him up to a fever pitch every time they were together. But he always went home with a case of blue balls. Helen was in control and they both knew it.

One night, when her parents were out and Phil was over to study with her, they began making out in the basement recreation room. She was teasing unmercifully, squeezing him through his pants as he again ran his hand down over her feet.

She made sure he was desperately horny before passionately whispering in his ear: “Phil, would you like to kiss and worship my feet and shoes? Would you like to smell the leather and suck on my toes?”

His response was eagerly positive.

“Then,” she said, “get down on your knees.”

Phil obeyed quickly and Helen told him to stay in position until she was ready to let him kiss her feet. As he held his pose, she said, “Phil, I know how much you’ve been wanting to kiss my feet. I knew it even before our first date. And the way you always let me run things tells me that you’re the kind of guy who needs feminine direction and control. Am I right?”

He admitted that all she’d just said was true. He also said it would be a dream come true if she would allow him to worship her pretty feet and shoes. She hesitated for a moment, looked down at him and, establishing direct eye contact, said, “Your dreams will come true now and many times in the future, Phil, if you agree to be my slave.”

His eyes broke with hers as he let loose a huge sigh, the kind of sigh that said his secret yearning had been discovered and that he was relieved that it had. He agreed immediately to her terms, promising to do everything she said.

It was then, at 18 years of age, that Helen first took ownership of a man. “In that case, slave,” she said, “I want you to begin kissing my shoes. Start with the toe on my right foot.”

He was enthusiastic, kissing with a passion that only increased the more she kept him at it. When he’d done her other shoe, all of it, she stopped him. Even on his knees she could see his hard-on pressing feverishly against his pants.

“From now on, slave, you’ll perform in any manner that I require. Our relationship will end the instant you show any aggression toward me, except when I order it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Helen, I do,” he responded.

“When we’re alone, you’ll call me Mistress Helen, slave.”

“Yes, Mistress Helen.”

“Good boy. Now, undo your zipper and take out your cock and balls... Everything!”

Phil turned beet red but did as he’d been told. She reached into her purse, took out a long, pink ribbon, and wound it around the base of his cock and balls before tying it in a bow. Holding one end, she gently tugged at it and enjoyed watching his genitals bounce up and down. She told him to give his cock a few strokes, warning him not to cum. It wasn’t long before Helen’s first slave was panting, begging for relief.

She denied it.

Instead, because she was still fully dressed and had anticipated how things might have gone this night, she ordered him to hold onto his cock but not to jerk it. Pulling the ribbon tight, she told him to open his mouth. Putting one end fo the ribbon between his teeth and ordering him to retain the tautness, she had him focus all his attention on her fingers and what they were doing.

He watched intently, teeth biting onto the end of the ribbon tied around his balls, as Helen slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. When her cleavage in the black bra came into view, she caught the subtle squeeze he gave his penis and the bubble of pre-cum oozing through. She removed the blouse, arching her back so that her breasts strained against the fabric of the bra, and hitched her skirt up to reveal her stocking tops and the black garters attached.

He was going nuts!!! His desire for her was the only thing on his mind, exactly as Helen had planned.

Leaning back and crossing her legs so he’d get an even better view, she reached for her end of the ribbon and took it from his mouth. Giving him no slack at all, his genitals held firmly, she commanded that Phil suck her high heel. With the heel deep in his throat and his tongue working hard to satisfy Helen’s dominant demands, she said, “Slave, your balls belong to me. From this day forward you will cum only at my direction and only for my amusement. Do you understand?”

He replied the only way he could. “Yes, Mistress Helen.

“Thank me for becoming your Mistress and tell me how happy you are to be my slave.”

Phil wasn’t very creative since he only parroted her words, then went back to worshiping her high heels. Nonetheless, Helen was ecstatic that he’d said them.

So, there she was at 18, sitting on the couch in her parents’ recreation room, wearing a black bra, her skirt hiked up to show stocking tops, garters and white thighs. And she was tugging on a length of ribbon she’s used to tie a boy’s exposed cock and balls. And he was kneeling on the floor before her holding his hard cock while sucking her high heel. Helen was in heaven.

She enjoyed the spectacle for a while longer because not only could she see him and control him as he knelt in front of her, she also had a good view of the whole scene through the full-length mirror affixed to the wall over the fireplace.

Her slave was beginning to pant. She knew his orgasm was only a moment away. Quickly reaching down, she slapped his hand from his cock and encircled it tightly with her hand, squeezing hard and stalling his cum. She knew she was hurting him and she enjoyed it. But, the tactic worked. He wasn’t nearly as ready to ejaculate as he had been.

Standing, she commanded that he stay on his knees and crawl behind her to her brother’s exercise equipment. Naturally, she lead him by the ribbon. His pants were around his ankles after the short shuffle across the room. Taking the belt from his pants, Helen ordered her new slave to lie face down on the bench.

“Slave, you’re about to receive your first whipping. If you truly want to remain my slave, you’ll take it quietly and not cause me any grief.”

She whipped his butt for perhaps five minutes. Helen had a lot of fun doing it, got tremendously turned on, and loved holding onto the makeshift leash she’d attached to his cock and balls.

Leading him back to the couch in the same manner, she sat and crossed her leg. Swinging her foot up to his face, she told him to lick her shoe and to thank her for caring enough to give him the whipping he deserved.

Helen would never forget his words: “Thank you, Mistress Helen, for punishing me. I don’t know why I need to be your slave and I don’t care. All I know is that being on my knees and suffering the physical and mental humiliation you’ve been dishing out is important to me. Please, Mistress, always keep me under your control.”

Yanking on the ribbon, Helen ordered him to masturbate for her . . . to show her how much he wanted her. Helen hadn’t given any thought to where his cum would go. The carpeting was certainly out of the question. As he approached orgasm, she said, “Shoot it onto my feet, slave. If any cum gets onto this floor, that whipping I just gave you will seem like a Sunday School picnic.”

She put her feet together to give him as much of a target as she could. A moment later, her slave unloaded, splashing his cum over both of her shoes and nylons. Helen was going to tell him to go to the wet bar and bring back a rag to clean it up when, much to her surprise and delight, Phil brought his head back down to her feet and licked it all up, worshiping her and thanking her over and over again for coming into his life.

Mistress Helen and slave Phil continued their special relationship for two more years before the reality of schooling and each of their personal growths separated them. But, from that day forward, Mistress Helen always insisted slave Phil eat his own cum as a matter of course. It didn’t matter where it was, on her feet, breasts, ass, or in her pussy. He was always ordered to use his tongue to lick it up and swallow.

Later, Phil found a new mistress. Helen, of course, had many slaves.