trampling

Boot Worship

Oh my lucky boots! I put them on when I go walking downtown, and all the city boys drool. They should be using their tongues to polish my leather.

Spit shine, boot blacking, trampling, sniffing, I love everything to do with boot, shoe, and foot worship.

One of the best scenes I had was a full afternoon dragging a poor soul around the dungeon. Close to the end we were both sweating and happily exhausted. I sat on a comfortable chair and he took out his boot blacking kit, and cleaned the grime off of every inch of my shoes. He massaged my legs through the leather, which felt amazing and luxurious. But he leaned down to kiss my toe without permission, which earned him a kick in the chest. When you have a job to do, you must stay focussed and not allow selfish desire to fog your purpose, which is to serve. To clean, to polish, and serve.

Sometimes I will walk through mud and city filth on purpose so that a witless slave has to scrape off the crud with his mouth. What disgusting things has he done in his life to know that he deserves to eat dirt? Or maybe he’s just a compulsive grit licker.

I love to drag the stiletto heel over my slave’s back and give him lovely marks and stomp marks. I love to kick him around, handle him like meat. I am happiest when I am standing on his chest, peering down at him all the way down there.

Why? I like it because I like the feeling of being touched through leather. I like the idea of remaining inaccessible and still able to receive pleasure. I enjoy being tall and strong, towering over a helpless slave. For the sub, I can imagine, and have been told, that it gives a feeling of smallness, being in the presence of power, and given permission to touch only the lowest part of Me, the part I don’t give any thought to but allow them to worship. So they want to do the best they can with what they have, make me proud of them. Being squished under a beautiful shoe can be a freeing experience, complete submission of the flesh.

CBT

Cock and ball torture. It’s the torture part of it that makes you shrivel, isn’t it? Well let me lay it out now: you are going to leave my clinic with your treasure fully intact. I may have a huge step-by-step castration poster on the wall, but really. When I show up with a peice of string, a handful of clothespegs, a metal comb, and a smile, I intend to delight you and transport you into a level of sensation that you can’t get from humping the washing machine. Give me your tender parts for an hour, I will get to work on that place you hold most dear, administering sensations ranging from tingles to tears.

At the very light end of the scale, pricks of pleasure run through you when I lightly drag a metal comb or pinwheel across you. A pleasant scratching. One level up, the string wraps around you, holding you at attention, tightly. Constricting you, so it feels as though I am gripping you at all times. Ready for more? The pegs clip on, slowly, all over. I have all sizes and strengths, and some are nice and some are nasty. Further on, I attach a tiny skirt around your sack which I can attach a range of weights to, in order to pull you down, down down down. This is a very stretchy organ, with a quick recovery time. So it may hurt now, but it’s worth it darling. How many lbs can you carry on your balls? Come to me to experiment.

My favourite new toy was given to me by a nice boy who fashioned a smother box for me, and added a humbler to the gift package. Oh what fun! This device allows the wearer to remain in an all-fours position, whether crawling on the floor or tumbled into his back, legs in the air. The balls are caught between two peices of wood, which are screwed together at the back of the thighs, so the straighter you stand, the further it pulls. It’s amazing the things that excite me nowadays. Picture a boy on his knees, collared at the neck with a chain dangling down his body attached to another loop at his prick, and decorated with a humbler, vigorously scrubbing filth off the skirting boards in my living room. My stars.

Now we slide further up the scale of torture. If needles make you uneasy, skip this paragraph. There is someting about peircing skin that is very intimate. I am managing someone’s pain, sliding small skewers through flesh like butter, sewing them up with needle and thread, changing their shape using tiny metal tools. Why?? Because you can handle it. Because you can take the pain I give you. You get a release when you scream, when you give away your right to comfort.

Can I take your further? Saline infusions, what a world of pain, confusion, and total lack of control. I feed the solution into you through a tube (I’ve been trained to administer this treatment) and inflate your bag to a hilarious size.

I haven’t even got to ball busting! There really is so much I can go on about torturing the cock and balls, that it will have to wait.

Stocking Fetish

Puling on a pair of nylons is my favourite start to a working day. I fasten them with garter clips, and they show through my tight pencil skirt small, hard and telling. If you know what to look for. The tops of the stockings with the line of the garter belt frames my figure perfectly, and with a pair of leather high heels I leave my house feeling rather pleased and powerful. The lines of the backseams disappear under my clothes, sparking the imagination of commuters on the TTC. Dainty patterned fishnets to thick woolen argyles, I’ll take all colours, patterns  and thicknesses.

Seeing tights on other people makes me want to tear holes in the thin fabric like unwrapping a gift. Seeing a woman revealing the lacy top of a stay-up from the slit in a dress is a pure thrill. Spying the telltale toe seam of a pair of pantyhose underneath a man’s jeans is almost a direct invitation to drag him into a dark corner and tear holes in them so I can see what he’s up to under there.

I like it when my sub sucks my stocking-clad toes after I’ve had a hard day strutting around town squeezed into high heels. I like to smother her with my dirty feet, let her inhale the sweet sharpness of me. When I’m done with her worshipping my feet, I might allow her to sniff between my legs, but only if she’s very very good. When I wear pantyhose, things do get rather warm and damp in there, so a nice silky nylon face-sitting or covered queening is the sub’s reward for good behaviour.

If the gentleman is inclined to pull on a pair of pantyhose, it is my pleasure to train him how to to be a proper sissy slut. I give lessons on posture, gesture, and movement. I coach on cock sucking whilst he is crossdressing in stockings and a garter belt, looking up at me so sweetly as he deepthroats my dildo. If he doesn’t do it well enough, he is likely to be punished in a forced bi session with a well-hung Dom friend of mine. He will love the look of that sissified frill-framed arse and those sissification stockings.

Slaves, if you wish to praise my beauty and power, gift me with nylons, shower me with silk. It’s tights I love.