Dose of Maya Ch. 09

"We'll play a game," she said, "It's a game of tag. You'll only get my socks when you tag me." She was on the last step. He smiled. He thought that was very easy. Her next step was on his torso. He gasped. She put more pressure and said, "But you can only tag me," she put her other foot on his face and he immediately kissed it, "by kissing my feet," she finished. She crushed his nose while stepping down from him. She moved to a window and said, "The game starts now."

He got to his fours and lurched into the attack. When he reached her, she easily dodged the kiss by moving to the side and running to the couch. She got up onto it and taunted him by dangling her foot. She made some noises as if to call a dog. He crawled to the couch quickly. His face was inches away from her socked foot, and she jumped over him. He craned his neck to kiss her foot in the air, and he missed it narrowly. She stepped on his back and stepped down, pressing him down a bit. She kicked him on his ass, pushing him to the couch. He hit his face on it.

He looked around to see where she was, and she was standing by the large glass window. He rounded the table and went to her. She dodged his kiss again easily. And she pinned his head down with her foot, crushing his nose under pressure.

"This isn't fun at all. I'm escaping easily," she said and kicked him in his side. He grunted. "Let's make it fun, shall we?" she kicked him again. "Every time you try and fail to kiss me, you'll get punished." She kicked him again to make him grunt again. She released and walked away to the kitchen.

The pleasure was clouding him. He was determined to impress his mistress. She stood by the kitchen island and nodded to him. Filled with grit, he surged forward. He almost reached her within moments of crawling. She stood there and didn't move. He expected her to dodge and run away. He looked at her with confusion. Her placid expression didn't budge. That's when he learned why she hadn't moved. Soft leather made contact with his cheek. It was the crop. She hit him even before he failed. That hit made him turn his head to the other side. He looked at her in shock, just to see her grinning. The pain stung his cheek. She brought the crop from the side to land a lash on his other cheek. His cheeks were painted red and flared with pain. She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. He knew what she was implying. That was not a taunt for a challenge. He had nothing in him to challenge his mistress. His owner. He still had a task to complete. So, he lowered his head enduring the pain. She rounded the island and moved away leaving him in pain with an unfinished task.

After a few slaps and kicks, he still couldn't kiss her feet. He turned around to see her standing by the window again. He crawled to her looking at her left foot. She taunted him for a long time. But she was pulling her feet away from him very late. He moved forward not taking his eyes off his target, that is her left foot. When he was near her, she moved to the right expecting him to go for her left foot. Instead, he moved to the right side with her and planted a kiss on her right foot. She kicked him lightly on his face and said, "You cheeky bastard." He looked up and smiled. She nodded to take her socks off. He obliged. She kicked him lightly again.

She yawned. "Is my mistress feeling sleepy?" he asked.

"Yes," she patted his head, "And my feet are tired, but my slave will take care of that. Won't he?"

"Yes, mistress."

She snapped her fingers and walked to the bedroom. She stood in front of her dressing mirror and said, "Take my pants off, slave."

"Mistress?"

"You heard me. Get down here. This will be added to your list of duties."

He knelt in front of her, inches away from her crotch. He unzipped her pants and pulled them down. She got her feet off her pant legs, and he pushed it to the side. When he got back to his position, he was looking at her underwear. He was dazed.

She snapped her fingers in his face and said, "Now the top." He stood up and moved to her back. "Why would I move a finger if I have a slave to do it for me," she said. He hooked the top from the inside. He was touching her waist. The touch was exhilarating him. He pulled it up, she put her hands in the air, and he got it off easily. She turned to face him. His jaw dropped looking at her. She patted his cheek and walked away into the bathroom.

He picked her clothes up and threw them in the basket. 'I have to massage her feet, and that might take hours,' he thought. He picked her socks which he put on the bed and ran to the closet. He stuffed those socks into her freshly worn boots. That might hold the smell. He came back and opened the wardrobe. He got a night velvet dress and knelt outside the bathroom. She took the dress and put it on when she walked out.

"Get a towel," she said. That's when he noticed her feet are wet. He dried her feet while she was sitting on the edge of that bed. He smelled her feet, it smelled of soap. 'She washed it' he thought. She got under the covers leaving her feet out and turned the light off. He started kneading and massaging her feet. Within fifteen minutes, she was asleep. He brought the covers over her feet and walked into the closet.

He closed the closet door behind him. He registered the image one more time. He had been here several times, but this was the first time he would stay here for a whole night. The somber glow of a night light showed these shoes in a different picture. That was when he realized he was calm. A torrent of emotions, when he was with his mistress, disappeared. He always registered this feeling as being at home. That was how he felt. He didn't spend much time in his daze.

He moved quickly to her boots and pulled out his mistress' socks. He brought them to his face, and the pungent smell hit him. The pleasure enveloped him into ecstasy, so much so that he thought he would fall down. He breathed in more, and this time the smell almost knocked him down to his knees. He caught the shelf, restrained himself from falling, and leaned back onto the shelf. He slid down to the floor because standing doesn't seem natural to him. He sat on the floor still breathing in furiously. The horrid smell never felt horrid to him. His breathing grew louder and louder and he immediately realized it. He was a meager two feet away from the door and didn't want to wake his mistress. So, he decided to move to the end of the room. He stopped in his tracks deciding about something.

Then he clutched his mistress freshly worn boots and strode to the other side of the room. He sat on the floor and continued taking in the smell of sweat-covered socks. After a few minutes, he decided it was enough with the socks. He yawned. But the prospect of smelling her boots brought him back to an active state. He put down her socks and brought his face to one of her boots. He braced for the smell and breathed in. The scent of her sweat was sweet, and he pulled in more and more. He brought the other boot to his face and breathed in that smell too. The overwhelming nature of his pleasure made him drop one boot, and he started rubbing against his crotch. He widened his eyes in between those incessant rubbing and breathing. At the edge of this cliff, he felt he couldn't do more. He felt his eyes trying to close. He was so tired and sleepy. The pleasure was at its peak and he stopped rubbing. He drifted into a deep sleep.