Dose of Maya Ch. 07

She brought her hand from over his head to under his chin. She made him look into her eyes. She nodded slowly to her side shifting his interest to the shoes laid there. He understood her intention. He crawled to her shoes and looked back. There were a few feet of distance between them. He didn't know how to crawl back to her carrying them. She only looked at him, but that look said she understood his trouble. It also seemed to say that he had to solve it himself, that there was no one to help. 'Figure out yourself,' he remembered her saying earlier when he asked for her help. It's not that he didn't know the solution, he wanted a way around it. Maybe some part of him still wasn't ready for that humiliation. He resigned to do it.

He bent down to pick up her shoe with his mouth and carry it back. As he was about to do that, another conundrum came to his mind. Somehow, it felt more important than the other. 'If I pick them up with my teeth, it might leave some marks. How could I pick it up without ruining them?' Just like before, he already knew the answer. He pursed his lips, and he picked up the shoe with lips covering his teeth. He thought that he was shielding the shoe with his lips from thirty-two of its enemies. Battle analogies always worked. His lips hurt as the teeth were digging into them. But he felt proud because those teeth couldn't cause any hurt to the shoe. 'Pain is pleasure,' he recited to himself. He did feel the pleasure, loads and loads of it. He turned around and crawled toward her.

He lifted his head high because he had less grip and had to take help from gravity. She laughed hard after looking at him. She squinted, and her eyes widened. She laughed even harder, throwing her head back. 'She realized I was taking extra care not to damage her shoe.' She was cackling when he reached her. He put his head forward to let her relieve him from this. She didn't reach to take her shoe from him. He stayed like that for a moment with pain in his lips and on his neck. He realized she would not relieve him from his pain. He bent down and laid the shoe at her feet. She nodded in appreciation to him when he looked up.

He didn't stop, he crawled back to get her other shoe. He got her shoe in the same fashion and crawled back to her. His lips hurt very much. So, he accidentally dropped it when he was two feet away from her. That was comedy to her because she laughed at his struggle. He bent down to pick it up again. He closed his eyes to brace for the pain. He swallowed his pain and crawled forward. When he reached her, he tried to bend and lay her shoe down, but she caught his collar and dragged him to her. She took her shoe from his mouth and pressed it against his face.

The image reflected in the mirror was erotic, to say the least. A woman was sitting on a cushioned stool with her legs spread wide. A man was kneeling in between her legs and his head thrown back. The woman was biting her bottom lip. They both were looking into each other's eyes, and their breathing was abnormal. The woman held the man's collar in one hand. And with the other hand, she was pressing down the mouth of her shoe over the man's nose. The woman's hands were pressuring him to do the opposite thing. With the left, she was pulling him towards her, and with the right, she was pushing against his face.

Joe was in heaven. That was what he felt like, he had to close his eyes from time to time. Because the pleasure was overwhelming him. The smell of her shoe wasn't any different from yesterday. He felt the same churning in his stomach. He felt the same sensation of puking. He felt nauseous. But what was different was the amount of pleasure he was handling. He felt a mountain of pleasure. It was exhilarating. He breathed in the stench of her shoe. She had her mouth closed tightly. He also didn't need any encouragement today to take in more. So, he took in more. He took in deep and long breaths. He was trying to push nausea down, but with every whiff, it returned. But that didn't materialize because there was even more pleasure returning, and he was also happy. He realized he was never felt this happy before. If he had any questions about what he was doing, the presence of this much pleasure and happiness threw them out. So, the cycle continued. Breathe in, churn, nauseousness, pleasure, happiness.

Suddenly, he felt the nauseousness had receded. The churning, the sensation of vomit, the nauseousness, they all vanished. All he wanted was to breathe that stench until the end of the world. 'The stench' he thought, 'It is not a stench anymore, it is the sweet aroma of her feet.' So, he breathed in with all he could.

She let go of his collar and took her shoe away from his face. He followed the shoe trying to reach it. Trying to thrust his nose into it again. She moved it to the side, and he followed it again. Just yesterday he couldn't stand the smell of her shoe. He remembered the dread he felt. But today he was addicted to the smell. She dropped her shoe to the floor. He looked up at her, she was looking stern. He reconciled with the feeling that she didn't want him to smell it anymore. He was hurt but he would do whatever she wants.

With ragged breaths, he said, "It smelt like flowers and sunshine, mistress." That was what she wanted him to tell her yesterday.

She smiled. She ran her hand over his cheek. And he nuzzled against her hand. Then she extended her palm and signaled to the other shoe. He was ecstatic. He bent down, picked the other shoe, and handed it to her. He raised his head and moved his chest forward, to make it easy for her to grab his collar. She smiled at his gesture, grabbed his collar, and dragged him roughly. She slowly brought her shoe to his face. When it was almost near his face, she pressed it over his nose rapidly. He breathed in like it was oxygen. He felt the same feelings while he was smelling the other shoe. The smell is so good. If he didn't know otherwise, he would've thought her sweat tasted sweet. But the pleasure somehow has increased. More breathing, more pleasure. His breathing was becoming more and more abnormal. He took a deep breath, and he came. He jerked back, but she pulled him back with his collar. His breathing was becoming normal again. He jerked again. This time he felt the shoe leave his face.

She looked down at him and asked, "You came?"

He gathered his breath, waited a moment, and said, "Yes, mistress."

"But you didn't...," she waved her fist up and down, "Rub."

"Yes, mistress." They both laughed.

Joe waited in his car, with his hands and head lying on the steering wheel. He looked dejected. 'Why have I done all those things?' he thought. So, he did have a rational mind to think. But the pleasure returned when he thought of the things he did in the apartment above. It clouded his mind again. He decided it was not the time to think. He left.

He was called to her apartment daily. With every day passing, he questioned less and less about his actions. He almost convinced himself that his actions were only natural. The tasks weren't as humiliating as the previous encounters. One day, she texted him around Six-Thirty with only the word 'Come,' he scrambled and ran for it. Now, he waited next to his phone for her text every day.

He had to clean her apartment while she ignored him. Sometimes, she ordered food and sometimes he had to make her dinner. He was not a bad cook. So, it was not much of a problem. When she goes to bed, he had to massage her feet until she sleeps. After that, he came back to his place. He waited for a reward but no reward came. He felt pleasure when he was slaving away for her. So, he returned to her apartment daily. He felt that Maya was irritated with him. He knew he did something wrong but couldn't understand what. He said he was sorry every time he felt a minor inkling of being wrong. She wasn't satisfied, he wanted to cry and beg for what was he doing wrong. But crying meant not 'complete submission.' So, he withheld those tears and on the next day, he worked harder to impress his mistress. Day after day, he returned to his home like a person who was deprived of happiness. He knew, one day, this would all change. Someday, when his mistress feels he was worthy of a reward, she would give him one. He remembered the last reward. He woke up every day with that as a goal in his mind.

[Excerpt from Maya's Journal]

A successful day. The subject cleaned my house with the help of several influxes of that pleasure. I rewarded him by letting him smell my shoe. I kept thinking of him as a 'he' because, honestly, I liked him. Even before I knew it, I cared for him. I tried backing away from slapping him. It felt wrong to hit him unnecessarily. I was afraid that I would not reach my goal of converting him. But he begged me to slap him. That only proved his inferiority to me. Even though I'm thinking of him as a 'he,' it will soon change to 'it.' Once I'm done with him, he wouldn't be even a pet to show him some love. He would be nothing more than a tool in my hands begging me to use. IT will be a tool. A Plaything.