A Quiet Evening At Home

They sat together on the couch, both tired after long days at work.

He, having changed out of his stuffy business clothes into a more comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants.

She, only having walked in a few minutes ago, still in her teal camisole, dress pants, and black heels.

His eyes had watched every inch of her as she'd headed his way, drinking in the sight of her ample bosom, tight bottom, and sexy shoes.

She smirked, knowing precisely what he wanted.

Gently, she slipped off her right heel, and out of the corner of her eye watched his face light up with childlike glee.

Without a word or a warning, she brought the black stiletto up to him and placed it over his waiting mouth and nose.

Her soft, pink lips came together in a seductive smile, her dark curls, and brown eyes a vision of innocence masking a far more devious side.

He'd been a good boy this week. He'd earned a little treat.

She watched his eyes shut and his chest begin to rise and fall slowly as he took in his first few breaths of her well-worn shoe.

His face was as blissful as a sleeping baby.

He'd always had a thing for feet, a fact she found rather charming. Yet when she'd first set out to own him, he'd foolishly tried to fight it.

That didn't last long.

Calmly, his hand rose to join hers, their fingers intertwining as they both held the shoe over his face like an oxygen mask.

She cuddled up beside him, her free arm wrapping around his strong shoulders. The warmth of her body next to his and the scent of her foot crawling its way into his nostrils was more than he could bear.

He was ready to melt into the couch, his body and mind ready to give in. But he had to wait.

She smiled at his patience. He'd come so far since that first time. He dared not take another breath without her giving him the order.

Then, as she had countless nights before this one, she brought her mouth to his ear and whispered the three words he didn't need to hear anymore but still longed to with every fiber of his being.

"In, and out."

"In, and out."

"In, and out."

She repeated the words over and over, the mantra she'd taught him early on in their relationship. It rang out through his mind as his lung followed her commands. Each time taking in more and more of her tantalizing foot scent and giving in to her control.

His head grew lighter and lighter with each passing breathe, and she smirked as it started to fall forward, with only their hands and her shoe keeping it up even as it wanted nothing more than to dive deep into the depths of her heel and never return.

The more he drank in of her sweaty foot scent, the more she drank in the image of him beside her- drugged by his desire and hungry for more of her control. She relished this, and she knew he did as well. If he didn't, this would never have worked for so long.

Gazing down, she watched the bulge in his pants grow, licking her lips in the knowledge that only she could make that happen anymore. No one else could give him what he needed so badly.

Almost unconsciously, but in truth keeping with his programming, his free hand made it's way to his crotch, and he slowly pulled out his aching cock. It was hard as could be- having not ejaculated in over a week- and as his fingers wrapped around the bulging shaft, she whispered into his ear once more.

"Up, and down."

"In, and out."

"Up, and down."

"In, and out."

Without question he obeyed, his hand moving up and down as his lungs breathed in and out. The scent weaved it's way throughout his body, from his chest to his mind to his cock, and the more he stroked the more he took in, an endless loop of complete and utter submission to her.

She loved watching him play with himself, his strong hands wrapped around his throbbing member, all the while she pulled the strings with nothing more than a shoe. It was intoxicating, and she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her more than a little wet.

After a few moments, she started to stroke faster and faster, breathe deeper, and longer, and she knew he was close to finishing. So very close.

But he hadn't been THAT good a boy this week.

Again, she brought her lips to his ear, a cruel smile plastered over them with he could neither see nor cared to in his current state. And this time, she spoke but a single word.

"Stop."

With a groan of frustration, he let go of his cock, leaving it saluting her even as she slowly removed her shoe from his face. Primly and properly, as if nothing had happened, she placed it back on her barefoot and rose off the couch, leaving him torn between ecstasy and agony.

But not without a shred of hope.

"Do the dishes tonight," she teased with a smirk, "and next time I might let you finish."

Then she left the room to start on dinner.

He grinned dumbly from the couch, dazed and blue-balled like countless nights that had come before this one.

He wouldn't have it any other way.