Her boots

there are few places of obesiance and absolute solace for the male submissive, than that of under his Mistress' boots. i know this, for after what seemed like an eternity, my Mistress has finally allowed me again to be close to Her feet. much to my surprise, She permitted me to assist Her with putting on Her boots. what a thrill it was to be allowed to touch Her foot and to gently guide it securely into it's home of encased leather, and then to watch as the leather sheathed her powerful feet and wrapped itself around Her calf tightly after the characteristic zip.  this is indeed a special place for both my Mistress and i. it is a bond of closeness and amity that is felt by both of U/us. this is an expression of utter devotion to Her, and it is through this humbling, submissive gesture that i can safely admit that because of my dorkiness and short comings, that i belong under the heel of Her boot.

the fact that i am below that of my Mistress, makes this ritual all the more meaningful and relevant between U/us. as the submissive of my Mistress, i delight in the ideal of O/our yin and yang, and it gives me a shiver to have the opportunity to be invited to lay prone at Her feet. i know that my belief in this thinking is fetish oriented, and that it reinforces the caste that is between U/us. however, as Her slave, i know my place, for i worship the very ground that She walks upon whether it be the polished toes of Her high arched feet or the stacked towering heels of Her favorite pair of platform boots. it is under Her feet, that i feel safe, protected and accepted for who i truly am.

an evil epiphany

walking around him, She is light footed on soft polished peds. unbeknown to him, She already knows of his paralyzing weakness and fetish and Her intention is to use it wantonly against him. he watches weakly, his eyes glazed and fastened to Her every subtle movement like shiny, ebony buttons. with a nervous darting expression, he aches as he watches Her whirl and prance about him. Her powerful calves seem to bunch up and split like overtaxed hearts. then sitting in front of him crosslegged, he swallows hard as She rocks and swings Her leg, flicking and curling Her long simian jointed toes. She senses and tastes his ubiquitous fear, and it rouses and inflames the sadist within. his mouth hangs agape and his insipid, dull expression compels Her anxiousness to stretch out, but She savors the moment and holds back, drinking in his confusion and trepidation.
 
"you know, my boyfriend says that i need to find something else to take out my agressions and frustrations on." She slinks behind him and grabs a lock of his hair and yanks the head back forcibly hard until a satisfying crack is heard.the angle is unbearably painful and he struggles to right himself but, Her leverage is too extreme. She looks down into the pools of his languishing eyes smiling, and catches a stray tear with her smallest nail. "Awwwwwwwe, are You going to cry? Are You gonna bawl?" yanking his head down hard She is not satisfied with the faint gurgling sound he is making in his throat. standing up, She lifts Her high arched foot and locks it securely over the overtaxed windpipe. bearing down, Her eyes ignite with excitement as She begins to observe the effects of blocking his airway. his eyes bulge appreciatively. the striations of muscle can now be clearly seen in and around the socket wall. his face is turning a sickly shade of purple and the entertainment is fantastic as She watches the spasms of his tongue move in conjunction to the rhythm of the pressure She applies with Her foot, in the preliminary stage of strangulation.

with a pensive pout She strokes his forhead running Her nails over the pocks, indents, scars and ridges of other past dominating adventures. a spurious grin cradles itself between Her dimples. Her eyes widen with delight as the purple darkens even around the tips of his ears. then just as suddenly as it began, She lifts Her foot and allows for a gallon of air to come rushing in.

he coughs and wheezes uncontrollably while She watches with immeasurable entertainment. "Awwwwwwwe ... i don't want to break You. Well, at least not yet."

standing up to walk She begins a soliloquy,

"tsk ... tsk ... you know, I have broken so many things in O/our house because of my anger don't you?
 i just don't know? what to do? ... what to do ...?" he watches feebily as She stretches out, bends over and touches the sole of each foot, then each curled toe.

She knows she has him.

still limbering up, She continues to taunt and tease him unmercifully.

"he says that I should find a punching bag or something to work out my rage and fury on."
sigh ...

"But, why should I buy a puching bag when I already have something fun and entertaining to workout on? Huh ?... he stutters and shakes his head, trying to remove the dead from his mind.  She smiles with a sharkish grin, each pointed tooth curved upward or downward like a convincing honed blade. "do You know what it is?" Hmmmmmm .... grabbing the lapels of his shirt She yanks them forcibly forward. "Why it's you silly." "you."

Hmmmmmmm?"  patting his cheek softly at first, She then rears back and slaps him extremely hard with a focused follow through that rakes her nails against the side of his face, bringing about a tiny bit of blood..

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm ... closing Her eyes, She laps at the viscous liquid  splayed out against Her finger tips, then traces the red against Her bottom lip.

his heart is racing now, his breathing rapid and well spent, a fine layer of beaded sweat dots his forehead. he struggles to loosen the ropes and the binds which She has him securely attached to. but, hopelessness and  desperation have already set in.

She narrows Her eyes, goes up on Her toes,  clenches Her fists, a thin sharp smile steals across Her lips.

"Reeeeeeaaaaaaady? ... Shall W/we begin?"

to bludgeon, or not to bludgeon?

does an empty beer bottle make a good weapon? well, actually yes if used to properly bludgeon the victim. i know this from first hand. my Mistress posseses the innate and sadistic capability of taking and making any household item into an effective, brandished weapon.  i am well aware of this, as i have been the poor sap and victim of
many of Her makeshift weapons.  during the weekend, She clobbered me incredibly hard with an empty beer bottle early Saturday morning. i tried to withstandstand the drubbing, but after 6 or 7 hits to the face and on the top of the head, i just curled up in a fetal position on the floor at Her feet, and i guess hoped it would stop. as a matter of fact, some of the stubborn lumps remain today under my hairline. i know, because it was incredibly difficult to wash my head and hair tonight. "ouch!" some of those welts are still unbelievably tender. particularly the one at the top of my head."it smarts something awful." there are times when Her forays into my pain are jolting, painful and quick. for as soon as they begin, then they are over. sometimes, too quickly for me. but, not this time. She examined me, hugged me, accepted my submission then grinned dimple to dimple and said ...

"Next time ... W/we'll use a wine bottle."

*gasp!*

kitchen Pugilist

last Friday, my Mistress stunned me with a surprise visit to Her lair, and i was so ecstatic to see Her and be permitted to serve, that i accidently dropped Her keys and clothes She had tossed at me. i do act nervous and kind of weird when She graces me with Her presence, but the truth be told it’s such an incredible rush for me to be at Her beck and call and to be bullied and bossed about as She is so fully capable and aware of.  certainly, W/we are both D/s and i am

anxious to follow that protocol when allowed, but through time and over the years, W/we have also developed into true friends, looking out for one another and not tolerating excessive amounts of bullshit from each other either.  

"I want some food. Make me some eggs." Her hair as well as Her energy was a streak of power and intensity and i struggled at times to keep up. i do though thoroughly enjoy the way She takes charge and keeps me perilously engaged on my toes, even though She may intentionally step on them from time to time.

W/we stood in the kitchen of Her lair conversing about the day's events. Her eyes sparked and flashed, not missing a beat, as She conveyed Her exciting news. Her hands were a blur of kinetic motion as she spun around on Her polished blue toes bubbling with enthusiasm.

"i not only got the job, but got the main fucking part as well!" She strutted around Her kitchen confidently and proud. 

"And that website it took me 3 fucking years to finish ... makes it so fucking easy!" She dipped one long slender finger into the scrambled eggs i was preparing for Her and snagged a piece of scrambled egg. 

"I don't know what the hell I was thinking? Why the fuck it took me 3 years to finally figure this out, I'll never know?" i watched as She threw back her beautiful cascade of  full, black hair. it fell into reckless curls and ebbed behind her shoulders, in rebellious waves. 

the scrambled eggs popped and sizzled, and soon Her kitchen was full of a delightful breakfast aroma of blended toast, eggs, butter and brewing tea.

i continued to banter with Her blissful and unaware. ... Her eyes narrowed and i didn't see the the way She had curled Her fingers, and  knuckled up, or was definitely unaware with the way Her thumb now curled tentatively around Her other nimble digits to form a simple fist. 

"of course they are interested in You" i said continuing to stir the eggs.  "You represent what is known today as a true renaissance Wo ..."

"thaaaawaaack!"

my finishing words of accolade never did leave my lips, but Her balled up fist sure did. i don't  know what happened, except that an exceptionally fast and lethal right cross plowed hard and fast across and under my left eye. in fact, She had decked me so efficiently hard, that my glasses flew off and smacked into the floor.

"Mmmmmmmm ... Now, that's what i was looking for." 

She examined me with a cohesive stare and searched my socket and cheek bone for a lovely reddened knuckle mark .

 grinning and smirking, Her dimples couldn't hide the satisfaction of the moment.  She reached for another finger peck of eggs.

i tried to steady myself on the floor and searched for my glasses which had been smacked right off my face. 

"what did You do that for?" i knew the answer i received from Her could possibly

 be any number of things. but, still, i wanted to find out. 

leaning up against the counter She licked Her fingertips with relish. 

"Do I really have to have a reason to smack You around or hurt you?" She asked pointedly.

"no, i suppose not." still struggling to right myself i couldn't help but have a silly, little grin on my face.

"well, if you must know, it is because i am so fucking, happy today." She stood next to the pan of eggs and watched as i bent down to pick up my missing eyewear.

..."now, set up your laptop and serve Me in the living room."

i eagerly complied, but i must admit that i took a slight detour into the bathroom to view Her emerging red marks. for now, the tingle under the eye was already apparent. would a true black eye appear? i felt around the swelling of the socket and felt the tender, swollen flesh.

as i served my Mistress Her eggs, She stopped me short ...

"Do you suppose that there will be some delightful bruising under there?"

She drank a gulp of orange juice and munched on some toast. "Mmmmmm ... I do hope so. I love a nice colorful bruise."

i crossed my fingers, felt the puffiness under my eye and walked away. 

i hope so to my dear Mistress ... i hope so too.

as i walked back into the kitchen my mind began to dream and wander ...

"i wonder what kind of damage She could inflict on me if She did something big like ... say ... win the lottery or an Oscar?"

if that happened ... i ... just ... might ... not ... live ... 
to tell the tale .

and, that would be effing bliss.

ensnared and captured

art sometimes has the ability to mimic nature, or "real life". take for instance this photograph. the photographer who staged this must of watched the way a spider uses it's spinnarets to encase and entrap it's victim. the bondage here is delicious and the absolute strength, power and finesse She exhibits is breath taking. this is another example of the manner in which FLR and the lifestyle and play patterns of bdsm are latching on and taking hold in mainstream media.

i have only one thing to say. oh how i wish that i could be the fly. ...

interesting. what would leonardo think?

this is a beautiful ad replication of each character detail from the Last Supper, with the exception that the photographer used moddern day Women in pose. it makes one wonder how things would be different in the world today had matriarchy took hold rather than patriarchal religions.

still ... i like it. it is an interesting and controversial piece with some bdsm nuance.

Her phone

happiness is when your Mistress feels that you are so spineless and obligatory that She inadvertently pockets your phone, then forgets and drives off with it. because, taking what once was yours, is now such a totally natural, predatorial response for Her. :)

pushover

W/we sat on the couch and She hammered me with Her next comment.

"I mean I don't know why she feels that way. Do you?" Her ratcheted gaze had me squirming like a bug in the shadow of the heel of one of Her boots.

i moved closer to the edge of the couch hoping to avoid conflict. "i can't imagine her feeling that way." i rattled and prattled away.  ... "i mean she is free to come by and pick up her things ... i'm not threatening in the least". my fidgeting seemed to vibrate the web i was sitting on.

crossing Her legs i watched as She pumped her calf up and down as it bunched then separated into amazing, compact, powerful bundles. each rhythmic pump She initiated made me that much more submissive to Her. the whirl and the twirl of Her long blue polished toes served to remind me of the prone position where i belonged.

"Uh ha ..." Her response was quick and rapier.

then those astonishing,  green penetrating eyes narrowed and seemed to bore holes into my skull.   anxious, jittery and extremely umcomfortable, i sought a means of escape, but knew better than to move without asking permission..

"that's right,  and you and i both know that you are nothing ...

but a mere pushover." ... ouch, that hurt.

i hunched my shoulders and slunk down lower into my seat, for deep down i knew She was right.

but, what exactly is a "pushover"?  the words She chose to direct towards me seemed to always sear and burn with a sweet, vapid, toxicity that had me reeling, faltering, trying to regain my shaky composure. it was as if She innately knew of my every weakness and male fraility. 

 i know i am a beta male, and i guess being a pushover comes with the territory, but i was truly curious as to what the actual defintion of a "pushover" was. what i found out confirmed my niche in the schema as being a bullied and natural target for aggressive and assertive women.

taking the task to lexographers to research the meaning, i started with the most traditional source of defining words; that of Merriam Webster.

Merriam Webster defines the word "pushover"as:

-an opponent that is easily defeated
-something that is easy to overcome or pursue (snap)
-someone who is easily persuaded or influenced

the full definition of the word is:

-something accomplished or overcome without any apparent difficulty
-an opponent who is easy to defeat or a victim that offers little if any resistance to being dominated or overpowered.
-someone who is unable to resist an attraction or appeal (sucker)

what is the history of the word?

in 1906 sportswriter and newspaper journalists used the word to describe a boxer who was clumsy, inept and easily overcome and beaten.

however, it was the synonyms that i discovered attached to this word that communicated to me the direct and true intent of Her meaning.

doormat, jellyfish, namby-pamby, weakling, reed, wimp, coward, milquetoast, mouse, nebbish, nervous, Nellie, pussy (slang), wuss, wussy, sheep

wow ... the power of words ...

my Mistress uses Her words to build, create and reinforce Her burgeoning media empire. yet, She also knows that Her words are also ubiquitous in terms of exerting influence and control over those whom She seeks to manipulate, and dominate.

as such, i am one of those who enjoys the weight of of Her words and the crack of Her sardonic wit. Her words, well chosen and selective bind me to Her service and continue to reinforce my position beneath Her feet.

hard, but affectionate sweet lumps

happiness is being ordered to thoroughly search the car of your Mistress for spare change and then suddenly She clobbers you over the head hard, with an extremely, thick, old candy cane She had somehow forgotten.

"Mmmmmm ...I do like to hurt you." She smirks.