Mistress teaches me Self-control

You tower over me. This is right and proper. I crane my neck to look up at you. I am, as is often the case, prostrate at your feet begging forgiveness for my transgression. You have already punished me, as my red-raw cheeks will attest, on this occasion with my own paddle. I had not served you well today. I do not wish to repeat the details here as i am deeply ashamed of my failures. All I can assure you of is that I know i deserved my punishment.

But as much as the beating on my backside has left me sore and uncomfortable, it is nothing compared to my anguish as a result of my shortcomings and the obvious disappointment I have caused in you.

So here I am, at your feet begging forgiveness. Pleading for the opportunity to make amends and demonstrate my loyalty to you.

I am lying at your feet. You stand naked above me but I am blindfolded because I am unworthy to see

I turn my head and lean towards your feet until I am a breath away. I can smell your feet, clean from your shower, a perfumed soap I cannot place, but still with that slight musty odour feet always possess.

I press on emboldened by the first sparks of sensation once again derived from you. I purse my lips and lean even closer until they touch the side of your little toe. I can feel my lips as they sense your soft skin stretched across your hard bone underneath. I lick now, just ever so slightly, and sure enough I can taste your foot too, soapy from your shower and a little salty residue from your busy day.

I was right, you can make me feel alive. But the tingle I have in my lips, on my tongue and in my nostrils is only an appetiser, whetting my pallet and making the rest of my body envious of the mouth's good fortune.

Before long I am licking and kissing all over your feet and ankles, all the while smelling your aroma and focussing on every lump and bump, every texture, every area which gives under my touch as would a pillow, every area which resists as would a stone. In those few minutes I think I map and absorb every millimetre of your feet, etching them into my mind.

Finally after my sensory overload my mind switches on and the cogs turn. I realise this may not just apply to my mouth and nose. Maybe my hands too will feel if they touch you, maybe they too can explore and map you. No sooner had this thought entered my head than my hands reached out searching for you. When they found your legs in the dark they lay claim to them. They shunned my mouth which they reasoned had had their fair share already.

My hands explore your calves and your thighs with a calm determination. Up and down and around. They sense you have recently waxed as they are beautifully smooth to touch. Strong and powerful, the firm muscles discernible to the touch. Higher up they broaden as they merge into the voluptuous bottom above, the firmness giving way to a little more soft pliability, just as alluring to the touch. As they explore, enjoying the sensations this brings, they become desperate for more and their pace quickens. They must feel like the arms of an octopus as they cannot get enough of you, wrapping around your limbs, investigating every nook and cranny, every sinew, every mole on your skin.

My mouth though desires to join the party too and it too begins to explore northwards too. My mouth kissing up and down each shin and calf, nuzzling behind each knee, rubbing my lips and cheeks up and down the back of your thighs. It too becoming frantic as my hands, as if in a competition with them to claim ownership of this new virgin land.

And it was in the midst of this battle between my senses that trouble was found. Within a few seconds of each other my senses of touch and smell discover unchartered territory, and what territory it is, rich in every sense known to me. Soft, undulating bumps and crevices, some parts ticklish to my face and hands, other parts moist and warm. Some parts easy to explore, others hidden away. But above all the aromas emanating from these lands. Mingling with the soapy perfumes are sweet, delicate scents that would quickly give way to earthier, spicier, notes. My nose tries to force its way into every crevice from where the enticing scents seem to emanate. My hands seek their own sensations there too, to explore the warm, moist delights, hidden in the depths below and within.

Later I could only wish they had cooperated with each other they both would have benefited from the access this could have granted. But my head is now no longer in charge. Clear thinking no longer drives my actions. By now my cock has taken control. It stands to its fullest attention wanting to join the frenzy of activity above it, but unable to reach the source of its desire whilst you remain standing and me on my knees around and beneath you. The most my cock can hope for was the second-hand pleasure, to be derived through every other sense available, of your juicy parts. It was desperate for sensations of its own though and so by now every part of my body from the head down tries to wrap itself around your legs, to rub against you, to feel the primal pleasure this brings. My hands reach upwards in search of your bosom to squeeze and stroke, or to reach around your body in search of your soft ass cheeks, to knead them, to part them, to explore the dark valley within. My chest and fat stomach are fixed now firmly against your legs, as I lift mine in a futile attempt to climb upwards towards your spring of nectar. My hips thrust my cock against and between your legs, all to derive as much friction as they and my disadvantageous position would permit.

It is then, just short of the climactic sensation i am in search of, when I feel the greatest sensation of all. A sharp crack of noise followed by a stinging sensation across my back, ass and cheeks. I wince as the pain tears across my body but I cling on tight to the limbs I had been exploring so manically just moments earlier, but more tightly now as if they would offer me the protection I seek.

Thwack! Another sharp searing pain across my body forces me to let go of your legs and I fall to floor, curling into a ball. The flogger in your hands now bears down on my back and buttocks again and again, remorselessly until all I can do is sob and beg for mercy at your feet. I now have had all the sensations I can bear to take from your body. All I need now is your pity.

But as I lie there you show me you are no monster but simply a loving teacher and protector who must sometimes discipline me to help me learn, to grow into the perfect slave I wish to be. As you rub cream into the wounds left by the leather straps of your flogger, you explain that I had started very well with decorum, composure and due respect. You were prepared to allow me a degree of latitude as I became more frantic the more I was exposed to the treasures of sensations your body offered. But once I lost control of my actions to my cock you could not allow the assault on your body to continue. You are not territory to be explored or conquered. I should seek to entice, to nurture, to worship as this would bring forth much greater bounties forward me, if only I could learn to be the worthy slave I yearned to be.

As I lay cradled in your arms, nuzzled gently against your breasts, I sob almost silently (in shame more than pain), as you slowly lull me into sleep.