The Natural

note to readers: please don't waste your time reading this story if your not into femdom and fetish. It's not written for you.

*

After finding out what was missing in her life, Lisa doesn't waste anytime filling the void. Her natural instinctive abilities as a dominant women are out pictured in this tale of realization and self discovery.

Chapter 1

I remember the first time I was a witness to an act of female domination. I was in college and I was staying over night at my friend's house. Her name was Sandra. I was nineteen at the time, and the only thing we ever seemed to talk about was boys.

Anyway, it was late in the evening. Sandra and I were already in bed, and her parents were still awake, and having quite the rowel. Things eventually quieted down, when I decided to get up and go to the washroom. I could hear conversation coming from the master bedroom which was across the hall from the bathroom. As I tip toed closer to the bathroom, I thought I was hearing things.

"I want you to lick the sole of my shoe too, Harry."

Hearing this immediately sparked my curiosity to investigate. I peered through the narrow opening of their bedroom door, and could not believe my eyes. Sandra's father was buck naked and laying flat on his stomach, licking bottom of his wife's shoe. She was still fully dressed. She sat in a high back chair, and was staring down at him, with an expression of amused contempt.

"You'll never learn, will you Harry. One day, if you're not careful, I'm going to have you doing this in front of city hall."

"I'm sorry Sharon, please forgive me." I realized at that moment, that Sandra's father was making some kind of an apology.

At first, I was appalled. Why would man of such stature, allow himself to be humiliated like this? Sharon then stood over him, with, what looked to be, a riding crop. She pressed the tip of the crop against the top of her shoe, and ordered him to lick it.

"Make it wet for me Harry, I want maximum sting. Now present your ass for discipline."

With his lips, still pressed to the toe of her shoe, Harry raised his ass high into the air. He didn't stop, until his ass was touching the end of the crop that casually hung from Sharon's wrist.

"After each blow I want you to kiss my toe, with a passionate thank you. I want you to show me you're grateful, because I took the time to punish you, instead of throwing you out."

She must have swatted him about five times, before his thank you began including pleas for her to stop. There were at least five more before she did. Again, Sharon pressed the end of the riding crop against the toe of her shoe.

"Are you grateful for my attention, husband?

All I could hear was Harry's blubbering sobs.

"Than kiss the object used for your painful correction. You know it's not over until you do. That's a good boy."

I still couldn't believe what I was seeing. This woman skilfully worked her husband over like she would a trained animal. He didn't object for a second, yet they were arguing, less than half an hour ago. I quietly made my way back to Sandra's room. There I tried to make sense of it all.

My father never would have stood for that. I know there were times when my mother would have enjoyed taking a whip to his butt. He's what you'd call an abusive husband. Mental abuse was his form of control. He'd dish it out when ever things weren't to his liking. As a matter of fact I can't ever recall my father apologizing for any of it. Marry the wrong guy, and your life could become a living hell.

It was a long time, before I could fall asleep. The image of Sandra's mother, poised with that whip press against her shoe, while her father licked it, had a delicious connotation to it. Yet the humiliating act was so bizarre. What do I tell Sandra? I feel embarrassed for her, yet I know I won't be able to keep it from her, we're too close.

The next morning, I told Sandra what I witnessed.

"You saw that; you peeping Tom. What you saw doesn't surprise me. If my parents had any kind of real argument, it's my dad that eventually apologizes."

"Why would he allow himself to be humiliated like that?"

"My mother said he has a fetish for her shoes and feet, and she uses that, to eventually get her way. She claims that a man with that sort of fetish, is a man born to be ruled by a woman.

"Born to be ruled? You mean, like a slave?

"Exactly! My poor dad, is a victim of his own sexual desires."

"Wow, this is very interesting. Is it rare?"

"My mother estimates, one man in ten has a true foot fetish. I couldn't believe her. I never heard of such a thing.

Sandra said she could prove it. Sometimes, when she went shopping, with her mother at the mall, her mother would wear a sexy pair of shoes which she'd call, fishing bait. When ever she stopped to sit down and rest, she would let her shoe slip off her heel and hang from her toes.

Sandra told me she was stunned to see the number of guys, staring and ogling at her mother's foot.

Though her mother estimates one in ten has shoe and foot fetish, at least a half the men out there find the sight to be sexually arousing. I couldn't believe it, my foot, an object of sexual desire. No wonder so much attention is paid to female shoe fashions. It makes sense.

Afterwards, I spent a considerable amount of time wondering what it would be like to have man with a fetish for my feet. What a humiliating desire! The more I pondered it, the more intrigued I became.

The whole notion made for an interesting power trip. If he wanted to kiss my feet, he would have to promise to do something for me. Make him horny and he'll do what ever I say. Keep him horny, and he becomes a virtual slave. I like that. I can hit on them, but they're not allowed to hit on me. I get my pussy licked and I don't have to suck another cock as long as I live.

Yes indeed, the more I pondered it, the more I liked it.

Chapter 2

My first impulse was to go down to the mall, and put this theory to the test. Sandra said her mother always uses an open toe shoe and that high heel sandals, seemed to work the best.

Well I couldn't wait to see if it would work. Later that morning I went home to put on a slinky form fitting dress, sheer nylons and a pair of high heel sandals. Something I'd normally ware for a night out.

I took the bus down to the mall and sat myself down by shoe store alley. This was the nickname we gave to a cluster of stores along the main drag inside the mall. On the next bench over, I noticed an older gentleman staring at the women inside the stores, who were trying on different pairs of shoes. It's like he was hypnotized.

I then happened to notice a guy from one of my classes inside the shoe store. It was Ron Farrel. He seemed to be looking for a pair himself, but I couldn't help but notice him paying an enormous amount of attention to the ladies who were trying on shoes too. His staring was actually quite blatant. Ron Farrel has the fetish!

Ron Farrel: six foot, slight muscular build sandy blond hair. Nice butt, cute, yes he would do nicely. Doesn't he realize that he's giving himself away?

I remember thinking to myself, come on Ronny get over here and pay some attention to my feet. Just then, a store clerk approached Ron to see if he needed some help. He just brushed the guy off and proceeded out the door.

"Hey I know you!"

I was feeling rather bold at the moment, or maybe I just knew that this guy was looking for a woman to take the upper hand.

"It's Lisa right?"

"Yes Ron Farrel, what brings you down here on a Saturday morning, shopping for shoes?"

"Yea well, sort of just looking."

Yea looking all right, his eyes kept moving from my face to my feet, like some kind of jumping bean.

"Oh you like my shoes Ron?"

With my legs crossed, I casually swung my sandaled foot up and down. In no time his eyes were fixed on the sensuous sight."

"Yes, their very nice, very sexy."

"You seem to have quite a fascination for them?

"Yes, well, I mean, I think they look, very sexy."

I extended my leg and pointed my foot in his direction.

"I just painted my toe nails, you like?"

"Oh, ah, yes very pretty."

"It's such a pain doing them. It'd be nice to have someone do it for me. Like maybe, a personal servant, or better still, a slave. That would be nice. I wouldn't have to concern myself with such a menial task."

He was speechless! It was like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. I stared right into his eyes with my mischievous grin.

"It strains my neck to be looking up like this. Why don't you have a seat?"

"Yes, a personal slave, you know, just for fun."

"Just for fun?"

"Sure. Let's see, there's back rubs, or better still, a full body massage."

I then casually hung my foot on Ron's thigh.

"Foot rubs and pedicures."

When I noticed his dick was at full mast, I decided to take the liberty of gently pressing my heel into his groin.

"Oh my, am I to assume you like this idea?"

I began to giggle uncontrollably while Ron turned three shades of red.

"It's not what you think."

"I know all about guys like you, so don't try to deny it. You Ron Farrel, would love nothing better then for an chance to kiss, my foot!"

Snickering, I gave his groin a little tap before I pulled it away. He looked like a little boy who was caught with his pants down, sitting there buck naked for all to see. He was too embarrassed to even say a word.

"You know what? I would love nothing better, than to see you do it!"

I sat back in a confident air, crossed my legs, ever so seductively, and casually began to reel my little fish in.

"Go on Ron", I whispered, "give my foot a little kiss."

"Here, in the mall? Are you crazy?"

"I don't like to be called crazy." I pretended to be angry. "I'll just find someone else to play with."

On that note, I got up and started to walk.

"No wait, Lisa, wait a minute, please. Maybe we could meet some where else, maybe a little more private.

I smiled to myself, a smile I could barely conceal. I sat back down and tried to act aloof.

"Like maybe I should invite you back to my apartment?"

"I would be honoured!"

"Right, that would be too easy, for you. I'd like to see you earn, such a privilege."

"Earn?"

"Yes, earn. As in do something to demonstrate worthiness and sincerity."

"Like?"

"Like", I whispered in his ear, "kissing my foot."

"Please not here! Your place, yes, but not here, please."

Ron looked so desperate. I tried to sum up the situation. Could I make him kiss my foot here and now, or should I even try? I had to think fast.

"I'll tell you what. If you can meet me, half way with this, we go back to my place. If not, then you can go fuck yourself."

"Half way?"

I smiled as innocently as I possibly could, and stared him straight in the eye.

"You get down on your knees and ask me to take you home. Just like a lost little puppy dog."

Before he could respond, I dug into my purse, pulled out a handkerchief, held it up in the air, and casually dropped it on the floor next to my foot and smiled.

"That should make it easier for you. Get on your knees, to pick it up for me, and then beg for me to take you home."

Just like the malleable male I knew he'd be, he did exactly as ordered. With red face and raging hard on, he made his little plea on bended knee. I was indeed amused.

His car was on the other side of the mall which meant a long walk. As soon as I realized Ron was trying to pick up the pace, I slowed it down by doing a little window browsing.

"What's your hurry?"

"No hurry."

"Who do you think you're kidding? Oh look at those boots! Thigh high aren't they?"

Ron just drooled without a word.

"They'd make a nice present, now wouldn't they?"

I watched his every move, his every facial expression.

"I wonder if I could get you to kiss those boots in public?"

Ron just looked at me with disbelief at my perseverance.

"Look at my feet Ron."

Ron obediently stared at my feet.

"Wouldn't you just love to get down there and give my big toe a little kiss?"

"Please not here!"

"Do I sense you're getting annoyed with me Ron?"

"I'm sorry I..."

"You're right. You will be sorry. Kissing my foot here is for free, much like a gift. In my apartment, it's going to be something you have to earn."

I turned and walked towards the exit without saying another word. I made it known that I was annoyed and that it was up to him to get back into my graces. That's what I wanted him feeling. Like he needed to find some way to make it up to me. Yes indeed, a good way to start a new relationship.

Ron tried to make small talk on the drive back to my place, but I just ignored him. After all, I'm supposed to be angry. The stage was set. Let the game begin.

Chapter 3

When we got back to the apartment, I continued to play aloof. Before opening the door, I first made it clear to Ron that, once inside I'm the boss and that if you can't play by my rules, then you leave.

At first he was taken back at my curt attitude, but after about five seconds, reluctantly agreed.

"You won't be disappointed Ron, I promise."

He followed me in like a puppy on a leash.

"Have a seat, on the floor of course."

Ron's smile didn't hide his anticipation, while he quickly sat down on the floor by the couch. I casually walked over and sat down in front of him.

"Well, I see you know your place, at, my, feet."

I slowly crossed my leg, as if presenting my foot for his affections, but when he made the first move towards it, I turned it away from him.

"What may I ask, are you doing?"

"I thought I came here to kiss......."

"Kiss what?"

"You know."

"I do?"

Ron sat there perplexed and frustrated.

"You're really embarrassed about your fetish, aren't you?"

He looked up at me like a lost little puppy dog and stuttered a quiet little yes.

"Well now, that puts me, in a position of, shall we say, leverage."

Now there was real fear in Ron's eyes.

"You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?

I reach forward and began to run my fingers through his hair, much the way I would pet a dog, and again played the aloof card.

"You needn't worry, unless of course, you decide not to play the game, the way it's meant to be played.

"What do mean. What game?"

"The foot kissing game, of course."

I leaned back and again pointed my sandal in his direction. I began to flex my toes, slowly raising them and then lowering them till he was completely mesmerized. Again, he leaned forward in an attempt to kiss my foot, and again I turned it away from him.

"Didn't I say, that if you wanted to do that in my apartment, you were going to have to first, earn the privilege."

He wore all his emotions on his sleeve. It was like playing poker with a child. Frustration and disappointment was flashing across his face like a neon sign.

"One kiss, only one kiss. I'll do what ever you ask, just one kiss, please!"

"You'll do what ever I ask regardless. That's part of the game."

"That's not fair!"

"Oh but it is. You seem to have forgotten that you've had your chance. At the mall remember."

"I couldn't do this at the mall."

"Why? Afraid of being discovered?"

"I guess, that's what it is."

"You know; your secret is only a secret as long I say it's a secret."

"Ah.... you wouldn't."

"Play the game. Play it the way it's meant to be played, and it will remain our little secret. Other wise, I might be inclined to write a little poem about you in the school newspaper."

He was terrified, I could see it in his eyes.

Perfect!

"Oh God no! The game, we'll play the game. What sort of game again?"

How naive.

"The, I'm the mistress and you're the slave game."

Now his eyes opened wide in disbelief. I immediately pointed my sandal back in his direction.

"First and foremost. You don't ever kiss my foot, or shoe for that matter, without explicit permission. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"That's, yes "Miss Lisa."

"Yes, Miss Lisa."

"Good."

I slowly raised my foot to within an inch of Ron's nose, and began to tease. I just love to play the big tease.

"I was watching you in the shoe store. You made your little fetish so obvious. You may as well have been wearing a sign to tell all."

I tapped his nose with the toe of my shoe.

"Silly boy. You've gotten yourself into a very precarious position here, but I think you're going to like it. In fact by the time I'm through with you, you may even crave it, much the way a drug addict craves his fix!"

I could see it all over his face. He was going to be mine, all mine. As I leaned back comfortably on the couch, I used my sandaled foot to toy with his face, stroking the tops of my nylon clad toes to the underside of his chin, lightly brushing my shoe against his cheeks, then rubbing my soles against his forehead and nose.

It was an fascinating contrast to see this delicately designed size six sandal gracing my nylon foot take complete control of his rugged masculine face. I couldn't help but be amused.

"I could even choose to hurt you, if you were to disappoint me."

I then took the heel of my shoe and placed it against his eye brow, while raising my own brow in anticipation of his reaction. Not even a wince, yes! I continued to caress him with my foot.

"You so badly want permission to kiss my foot. Don't you?"

"Yes Miss Lisa."

"So badly, that you're willing to do, well, anything, out of the public eye, of course. That is for now. Beg me then. Beg to do what ever I whim."

"Miss Lisa please. Please, please, please. Allow me to be at your whim"

I stared down into his eyes and with a big triumphant smile.

"Strip! Remain seated there, and take it all off, every stitch."

I found myself grinning from ear to ear as he struggled to take everything off while sitting at my feet.

"It might comfort you to know, that one of the stipulations for paying homage to my shoes and feet, while in the privacy of my home, is that you be buck naked."

While carefully watching Ron, I noticed his anticipation was giving way to fear, as he took off his last piece of clothing.

"There now, I want you to stand for my viewing pleasure."

He was turning beet red with embarrassment as I instructed him to turn around for a rear end view.

"Not a bad piece of meat I have here. Yes in deed, not bad at all. Now, on your knees before me. Upright! Kneel upright, I want no slouching."

I find being curt and to the point works best in preventing Ron from trying to get back to being my equal. Keeps him at bay, one might say.

"Hands crossed behind your back. There now, we have the classic position of mistress and slave. You, naked and kneeling at my feet. Me, sitting comfortably clothed, in my chair, pondering your tasks. Tell me Ron; are you at all happy with this position that you find yourself in?"

"To be honest, I don't know what I'm feeling."

"I think you're driven Ron! I think you're driven by a lust that you can't control, so don't even try. It controls you, and we're both going to find out, just how much. How much, you're willing to do, for the privilege of kissing my pretty little feet."

"I don't know, I honestly don't know!"

"How about cleaning my apartment, in the buff?"

"This is too humiliating."

"Oh but it's just our little secret isn't it. That is as long as I say it is. I'll tell you what, let's just play the game for this afternoon. Then afterwards we'll reassess this relationship on an equal footing."

I leaned forward to extend a formal handshake. Ron's apprehension soon faded. I leaned back on the couch and once again, settled back into my role.

"Now where were we, vacuuming, dusting. I think this place could use a little of both. Not to mention the dishes in the sink."