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Sincerity of my servitude to her symbolically by kissing her boots
My name is Steve and this is my personal story. It's also about a lady who changed my life. Her name is Dr. Barbara N. Dupree. She's the psychotherapist that I've been seeing to help me solve some marital problems. She changed my life by subjecting me to a very different kind of therapy ... her own special brand of therapy. I'm telling you my story because she told me that it would be helpful to my cure if I acknowledged and described what took place between us to other people. I'm writing this down a day later while the events are still fresh in my memory.

I've been coming to Dr. Dupree for nearly a year. Our last psychotherapy session was scheduled to take place yesterday. As you'll soon see, that was the session that cured my problem and changed my life forever. I originally came to Dr. Dupree because my psychological problems were sexual in nature. My marriage was rocky. I wanted something more and different from the kind of sex that my wife was willing to give me. I wanted my wife to take total control in the bed room and to sexually dominate me. I told her that I was most comfortable and a much better lover when I was the submissive partner. My wife wanted nothing to do with that. When she asked me how I could be so sure of my assertion, I told her that I had been in a dominant-submissive relationship several years before I met her. That revelation didn't sit well with my wife, in fact, she even called me a pervert. Our relationship has been in a downward spiral ever since that time. My wife suggested that I see a shrink in order to get rid of my obsession but she refused to go with me saying that this was my problem and not hers.

I needed to find a psychotherapist who specialized in human sexuality. Barbara N. Dupree Ph.D. had the reputation of being the best specialist on the psychology of human sexuality in this part of the country. Her references were sterling. She had written several books on this area of the human psyche, all of them highly respected. I was confident that she could help me to get beyond my problem.

It didn't take me long to realize that I had found the right person to cure what was troubling me. In fact, that became clear within five minutes of meeting her. Dr. Dupree's office in Santa Monica was impressive and expansive. She occupied the penthouse suite of a twenty-two story office building close to the beach. The view of the Pacific through the panoramic office window was magnificent. There is something curative and soothing about the sea. I've always felt more relaxed near the ocean and better able to lower my defenses. Dr. Dupree's office was impressive and well appointed. It was filled with numerous paintings and sculptures - most of which had erotic themes. Volumes whose titles suggested they were about eroticism and sexuality filled the bookshelves. The furniture was expensive, tasteful and comfortable. I found myself wondering how any psychotherapist could afford an office as luxurious as this.

Dr. Dupree is a mature woman. Although I've never asked her, I would guess that she's well past fifty. I always thought of her as an older sister or an aunt. She is an extremely good looking woman and very tall, but she doesn't flaunt her looks she doesn't need to. In every one of our weekly appointments, she'd always acted professionally and dressed appropriately. Usually she wore well tailored suits, long dresses or skirts, loosely fitting sweaters and very little make-up. If anything, her clothes concealed or understated her femininity. Even so it was not difficult to see that she had a well developed chest and that she maintained her body well. Her long strawberry blond hair was streaked with gray and graying at the temples. She usually wore it in a bun. It was obvious that she had seen a plastic surgeon because her alabaster skin was wrinkle free and flawless. Her steel rimmed glasses hid her compelling sky blue eyes.

After ten and a half months of psychotherapy together we had made remarkable progress. At the end of every appointment, it was customary for Dr. DuPree to give me a homework assignment. Some of the assignments required that I write out detailed information about my sexual experiences, thoughts and fantasies. I would read what I had written during the following session or Dr Dupree would read it afterward and we would discuss anything that she thought was important the following week. I took these assignments seriously. I was very open about my sexual experiences and fantasies and wrote down everything that I could think of. Maybe I was too open. Because of my comfort level with her, I told Dr Dupree things I'd never told any other person, things that I had been afraid to admit even to myself. The technique had worked. It worked so well that Dr. Dupree suggested that we would probably be able to terminate therapy in another six weeks.

I remember her saying that on the day that I told her that my wife and I were beginning a six month trial separation. Though she was sympathetic, Dr. Dupree told me not to view the separation as an 'end' nor even as a 'transition' but as a time in which we my wife and I could each explore where we were and what we wanted. Then, a week before we were scheduled to complete therapy, Dr. Dupree said that there was one remaining item that needed some special attention. She said that we could probably resolve it in about four hours. Instead of booking three additional appointments, she asked whether I was available to reschedule our final session together to the following Sunday. That way, she explained, we could spend the four hours that we needed in a single bloc without interfering with other patients or disrupting her very busy schedule. She indicated that she would be willing to give up any fees except for her normal fee for a single hour of therapy if I could arrange this. According to Dr. Dupree we needed to that amount of time to deal with the issue of psychological 'transference'. She explained that 'transference' is the psychological term for a patient projecting his or her emotional feelings or conveying certain psychological attributes to a neutral third party. Usually that person is the psychotherapist, and not the person or object that actually evoked the feelings. I accepted her offer.

I was actually looking forward to spending this time with Dr. Dupree because I had developed something more than a professional interest in her, though I'd never said anything about it. I knew that the psychotherapists code of ethics prohibited any kind of personal relationships with patients. After my wife and I separated, when I would come home from work on most days, I'd shut the blinds, strip naked, lay on my bed sipping a Scotch and I'd begin to masturbate. Most of the time I fantasized that Dr. Dupree was sitting across from me in the darkened room, watching. Thinking that she was actually there in the room watching me was my inspiration for masturbating. Before I knew it, I was in a hypnotic like state, and I was jacking-off on automatic pilot. After that, it usually didn't take me very long to cum. I had fantasized about putting on this kind of exhibition in Dr. Dupree's office. In fact I had developed a number of sexual fantasies involving Dr. Dupree and myself.

On Sunday I arrived for my appointment exactly on schedule. The office building was completely deserted. There wasn't even the usual security guard in the lobby. Dr. Dupree had arranged for the rear entrance to remain unlocked as long I promised to lock it after entering the building. It was an eerie feeling. The elevator door was open and waiting for me to enter. I pushed the elevator button and was whisked up to the twenty first floor in less than thirty seconds. From there, I climbed the few steps that led to the separate entrance for the penthouse suite. As I entered the ante-room that serves as her waiting area, I saw that the door to Dr. Dupree's office was open, Normally I had to wait to announce myself or be buzzed in. This time I walked right in. I was expecting her to greet me as she usually did but her office was empty. She must have heard me come in because I heard Dr. Dupree's voice coming from behind the bathroom door. She told me to take a seat, make myself comfortable, and that she would be with me in a minute.

It should have been obvious to me right from the start of the session, that this would be different from anything previously experienced. All of the clues were there. They should have alerted me that something was going on, but I didn't catch on.. Dr. Dupree was dressed very differently than I'd ever seen her. Her clothes were extremely flattering and very feminine. They might even be described as 'seductive'. Instead of hiding her figure, her clothes called attention to it . She wore a long skirt, slit from the hem until just above her knee, that allowed me to easily make out the shapely curve of her calves and suggested the outline of her thighs. She was wearing a semi-shear blouse, with a scoop neck that accentuated her cleavage and drew my eyes to her chest. This was very different from the loose fitting sweaters or blouses she'd worn at previous appointments. It called attention to her full and well proportioned breasts. She also wore calf length zip-up boots with very long pointed high heels rather than the usual flats or sandals she'd worn at every previous session. The scent of her perfume, which she hadn't worn previously during therapy, was unusual and very sensual.

Dr. Dupree is not a person who beats around the bush. She got right to the point. She said that during the course of therapy sessions she'd become aware of the fact that I seemed to be transferring a significant role in my sexual fantasies to her. In fact, she said that she thought it was likely that my sexual obsession was no longer fixated on my wife or on any of my former relationships. Instead she said, it was based on expectations and with 'my' projections of the future. She said that taking into account all of my statements from previous sessions and from attitudes that I'd demonstrated that she concluded that I was, in fact, looking for someone to be subservient to. When she asked whether that was an accurate assessment I nodded my head.

She informed me that, at the end of the current hour I would technically no longer be her patient. Therefore any ethical and legal obligations to not become personally involved with a patient were also ended. She suggested that we could use the time to explore the psychodynamics and substance of this transference. In her words this would be an ideal time to "wrap up this unfinished business."

Since we had previously arranged to spend the rest of the afternoon together in what Dr. Dupree described as very hard work, she said that it would probably be the right time for both of us to take a short bathroom break before resuming our therapy. As I got up and started to leave the room, she rose to block my path. Then she threw her arms around my waist, pulled my body up against her own and hugged me very tightly. Though I know that some psychotherapists occasionally 'hug' their patients - signifying congratulations or empathy - this kind of physical gesture was unprecedented in the time that I'd been seeing Dr. Dupree. Our only previous physical contact had been a routine hand shake. Her hug wasn't perfunctory either, it was the affectionate kind of extended embrace that I would expect from my wife or an intimate friend. As she drew my body against her own, she held me tight, making sure that I would feel her soft breasts squeezing against my chest and the inside of her thighs brushing against my pant legs. Feeling her body next to mine confirmed what I had believed, Dr. Dupree had a magnificent body - she was built like 'a brick shithouse.' This intimate physical contact went on for more than a minute before she finally let go of me. Once in the bathroom, I realized that the physical closeness to Dr. Dupree, and the contact with her body pressing against mine, had aroused me sexually. I discovered that I had sprung a hard-on and even that I was already oozing precum fluids. My cock was as stiff as a rod and a tell tale wet spot had stained the crotch of my pants. I realized that Dr. Dupree's hug was meant to turn me on. It had --- I wondered what was next.

After washing up and cooling down, I returned to her office and sat down on the couch. She was already back and seated in her chair. I hadn't taken that long in the bathroom, so I wondered how she was able to get back so quickly. Once of the first things that I noticed was that her chair was much closer to the couch than before, I could almost touch her from where I was sitting. Before this, she had always been careful to keep some physical space between us. I assumed that physical distance was a method for maintaining emotional objectivity or neutrality or for self-protection. As soon as I was seated, she got up and locked the door to her inner office. She returned the key to her desk drawer saying that she wanted absolute privacy with no possibility that we might be disturbed. That should have been the final clue telling me that she had something more than psychotherapy planned for us this afternoon but, at the time, I either ignored the sign or was oblivious to it.

As we began our conversation, Dr Dupree's body language changed dramatically. She became much more animated and provocative than before. Barbara, (early in our therapy relationship she had given me permission to use her first name instead of using the formal Dr. Dupree when we were talking) began to interrogate me. She asked me some very specific and intimate questions. As usual, she was direct and to the point. She wanted to know if she had ever been a character in my recurring sexual fantasies? Yes, I answered, without hesitation. Did I have any explicit sexual agenda in sharing my erotic writings with her? Yes, again. Did I find her sexually appealing? Did I ever imagine her as a Dominatrix in my fantasies? I answered 'yes' to all of her questions without any feeling of embarrassment. She seemed satisfied with my answers and began asking even more probing 'what if?' questions. Did I ever suspect or entertain the notion that she might really be a woman who achieved sexual gratification from dominating men? Would I want or consent to become her slave should that were the case? Had I manipulated the therapy so that an erotic 'personal' relationship between us would become a distinct possibility? Yes again to all. She didn't seem to be surprised or flustered by any of my answers either. As she questioned me, I became aware that I had sprung another throbbing hard on and that I was wetting myself again. I don't know for certain whether she noticed the bulge growing in my crotch or the wet spot, but I suspect that she did.

What happened next came a complete surprise to me. Without any warning at all, Barbara's persona began to change. In a quiet but unmistakably firm tone of voice she ordered me to take off my pants, my shoes and socks and to unbutton my shirt. She instructed me not to touch my Jockey shorts. Her instructions were explicit. She told me to fold up my clothes, put the socks inside of the shoes, and to hand everything over to her. Since she were well aware of my tendency to be inattentive and tune things out, she made me repeat back her instructions word for word and said that I must follow them exactly, leaving the or else unspoken but, nevertheless, clear. She said that she was taking charge and that I had no choice but to obey her.

When I completed undressing, she took my clothes away and locked them in a closet. Then she ordered me to get down on my hands and knees. When I was down she told me to slowly crawl over to her chair - she emphasized the word 'slowly'. I was suddenly overwhelmed by feelings of submission that I 'd experienced many times before and by my need to acquiesce to her wishes. As I began to crawl toward her, she informed me in a casual, almost off-hand, way that she'd had a long day, very little sleep the previous night, and that her body was extremely tired. She specifically mentioned her feet, saying that they were sore and tired and that they needed a lot of attention and stimulation. She mentioned that her dog usually licked her feet when they were this tired. All the while her feet were dangling there seductively. I watched intently as she began slowly unzipping her boots. She stopped midway leaving them only half-way unzipped. By this time, I had reached her chair and assumed a familiar position on my hands and knees. My eyes were cast downward and fixed on her feet. I waited for further directions from her which I knew from past experiences with dominant women would be forthcoming.

She instructed me not to speak unless spoken to and keep my eyes lowered unless and until she ordered me to look up. In a seductive tone of voice I hadn't previously heard from her, she asked me again whether I wanted to be her slave. She already knew what my answer would be. I said that it would be my privilege to serve as her slave, that it was something I had fantasized about many times. She asked if I was prepared to obey any orders or directions she might give me. I said that I was. She informed me that the penalty for failing to follow her instructions promptly, completely, and correctly would be swift punishment. Dr. Dupree said that punishment might include verbal chastisement and corporal punishment and that she might decide to physically restrain me. She asked whether I was prepared to accept any punishment she deemed fitting. I responded affirmatively. She told me that from that moment on whenever I was in this room -- unless told differently -- I must refer to her as "My Mistress" and that I was to address or respond to her only as 'Mistress' or 'Mistress Barbara'. She ordered me to demonstrate my loyalty and the sincerity of my servitude to her symbolically by kissing her boots. I acknowledged, lowering my face to the surface of her foot, opening my lips and touching them and my tongue to the polished leather surface of each of her boots. When I finished this degrading act, she pulled her boots away from under my lips and my face fell to the floor.

I was, at that very moment, a picture of abject humiliation. My wet saliva clung to her shoes and I was groveling in front of her, with my nose pressed to the floor and my ass raised high in the air. I was undressed except for my unbuttoned shirt and a pair of jockey shorts - to make things worse my bulging hard-on was straining at the seams of my underwear trying to escape its imprisonment. I admit that although it was physically uncomfortable, this position was, paradoxically, a very enjoyable position for me. Being in this position allowed me to re-experience a kind of erotic pleasure that I hadn't known in many years. I stayed frozen in that pose while she sarcastically reminded me, that she had read every word of my 'dirty little' essays. She said that she were aware of and familiar with all my perverted thoughts and submissive interests and informed me that she would determine which, if any, of these she might allow me to experience.
It was clear that she was enjoying dominating me as much as I was feeling humiliated by her and that she wanted to have some fun at my expense. She ordered me to take off her boots. In my haste to please her, I started to do that. Just as I was reaching for the zipper of the boot closest to me, she stopped me and informed me that she'd not yet finished her instructions. She scolded me for anticipating her instructions and said that this was normally a punishable offense. She demanded and expected to see 'better listening' from me in the future. Then she completed her instructions telling me to use my teeth to unzip her boots. She warned me of the serious penalties for failing to do so correctly. It was obvious that she would not settle for anything less.

Being required to perform this degrading task and the threat of punishment, was another in a series of humiliations. Yet my erotic feelings were heightened once more. I felt my face flush, tingling feelings shooting through my body, goose bumps raising on my skin, a detectable stirring and throbbing of my erect cock and more pre-cum leaking from my 'pee-slit' . Because my eyes were focused only on her feet and she had not permitted me to raise them, I was unable to see to observe her reaction to these involuntary but revealing responses. I was hoping that she had noticed my body's physical responses too. Believing and/or sensing that she was aware of these reactions only served to heighten my sense of humiliation and further intensified the sexual excitement further. I managed to finish the degrading task assigned using only my teeth without too much trouble and quietly awaited her next order.

She commanded me to remove the shoes from her feet and to line them up in front of me, reminding me again that I wasn't to raise my eyes any more than needed to complete the task. She also allowed me to change positions, but still forbade me from raising my eyes. I was kneeling on the floor. She warned me again to keep my eyes lowered and not to look up any further than was necessary to accomplish any subsequent task she might assign me. She said that under no circumstance was I to allow my field of vision to rise above the level of her knees unless that was her specific order to me. She warned me to keep my hands behind my back at all times unless they were needed to comply with her commands. Mistress Barbara warned that if I was unable or unwilling to follow these instructions it would be necessary for her to blindfold me or tie my hands or both. She was completely in control and was manipulating me like a puppet.

She then ordered pick up her shoes, one at a time, to sniff them and make oral love to both their inner and outer surfaces. She told me to imagine that I was worshipping her pussy instead. Although I couldn't see her, I could feel her eyes watching my every move as I pushed my nose once again to the leather and began to inhale a multitude of foot and shoe odors. I extended my tongue, allowing to slither up, down, over, and around the surface of her boots.. I had almost finished this sweet labor and was sliding my tongue down the heel when she stopped me. She mocked me and ordered me to take the point of the heel into my mouth and begin sucking it. As I began, her instructions became very specific. Within seconds I was rhythmically frigging my mouth with the long thin pointed heel of her boot. It was clear that she had really become my Dominatrix and that I was savoring every moment. So much so that she reminded me that her heel was six inches long. She said that it was about the same size as a hard cock, and she began calling me her 'cock sucker'.

Hearing those words coming from her mouth was a real shock to me since I 'd never before heard her use any kind of profanity. Obviously the insulting characterization struck home because I began sucking the long pointed heel even harder. I wanted to demonstrate to her how well I could suck a 'cock'. She must have also seen the subtle reaction of my body as more lubricating fluid seeped out of my piss hole, signaling that the degree of sexual excitation I was experiencing had risen yet another level. She kept calling me a 'cock sucker' and continued taunting me. She commented that the enthusiasm and skill I demonstrated in sucking her stiletto heel meant that I must have really enjoyed cock sucking whenever any Mistress had required me to suck a dick. She wondered aloud how large a 'cock' I could handle or 'how many cocks' I would be able take in my mouth at the same time. She suggested that she might want to test me sometime. Observing the growing wet spot in my crotch, she said that I probably needed some kind of absorbent pad to catch further leakage and to prevent me from wetting my 'panties' any further. She hinted that she had a solution for this problem. I would find out exactly what she had planned soon enough.

Finally, after what seemed like a long time but in reality was only a few minutes, she told me to stop sucking and to remove my 'toy'-- that was the term she used -- from my mouth.. She even complimented me on my good 'work'. Then she got up and stood over me. All I could see were her shapely stockinged feet and calves and not much else. She handed me a black silk scarf and ordered me to blindfold myself. When that was done she helped me to my feet, tightened the knot and confirmed that I could see nothing. As I stood there I heard what sounded like a muted snap and next a very subtle, almost inaudible, brushing noise that sounded like laundry being folded. I could also feel the warmth of her body hovering around me. I smelled her perfume and felt the feathery touch of fabric touching the hair on my head. She told me that she was going to temporarily remove my blindfold so that I could watch what was she had in store for me. I lowered my eyes toward the floor.

I blinked as she removed the blindfold. When my vision cleared I could see that she held a pair of panty hose in her hands. She mentioned that she'd been wearing them almost continuously for more than a day-and-half. Then she stretched them out to their full length so that I could see them very clearly without raising my eyes. She ordered me to move two steps forward toward her. With a quick motion she took the panty hose and ran them like a bow across a violin very slowly, from right to left, across the width of my crotch and then back again in the other direction. Although there was a thick layer of ribbed cotton underwear between them and my cock, I could feel the sensations and the texture of the sheer nylon fabric touching its sensitive skin. That touch sent more tingles zipping up my spine.

The next thing I knew, she pushed the panty hose against my nose and ordered me to sniff them. As she held them there, she continued talking as the feet, toes, crotch and back side of the hose was passed directly under my nostrils. She reminded me how fondly I 'd written about my experiences and my special talents for orally stimulating those parts of the female anatomy.

This ordeal must have lasted ten minutes until she were thoroughly satisfied that I 'd had my fill of the rich variety of aromas that danced under my nose and wafted up into my nostrils. Then she removed panty hose and ordered me to watch while she folded them again and again. Soon there was nothing left but a piece of nylon about two inches square which was folded twelve or thirteen times, so that it was now many times its original thickness. She placed the square in my left hand, and instructed me to place the thumb and index finger of my right hand on the elastic band at the top of my shorts and to pull them away from my body. She cautioned me not to touch my penis except with the nylons. Next she told me to place the folded nylons inside my under shorts so that they completely covered my cock and handed then me several pieces of surgical tape to hold the folded pantyhose 'patch' in place. When I 'd finished the taping, I was wearing a thick nylon sanitary pad to prevent any further wetting of 'my panties' (those were her words). She tweaked my imagination and my heart palpitated when she hinted that she might have for this nylon sanitary pad. My mind played games trying to guess what kinds of pleasurably humiliating experiences might await me.

Once again the black silk blindfold covered my eyes. Placing her hands on each of my shoulders she guided me down onto the floor so that I was now lying flat on my back. Although blindfolded and unable to see anything, I could sense her body standing over mine. She told me to lower my shorts down around my knees. The gentle pressure of her foot rubbing across my belly and over my encased genitals was the next sensation that I felt. She teased me and asked rhetorically whether I 'd ever fantasized that she would be 'playing' with my penis. She also reminded me of how helpless and vulnerable I was lying there under her feet saying that some other Mistress might not be as gentle with me as she was being. She reminded me how fragile an organ the penis was, how easily it could be harmed, and how my 'balls' could even be crushed if there was any misstep or if someone were to step on them too hard. She asked me to imagine how painful that might be. A wave of fear and anxiety came over me listening to those words but, at the same time, the erotic feelings that were already so profound intensified up yet another notch.

By now I was so aroused, that my balls were aching. It hurt so bad that I thought something inside me was about to burst. I could only think about how much I wanted to masturbate so that I could release the pent up energy and tension that was causing my discomfort. The thought of masturbating in front of her or any other Mistress is particularly arousing to me. I kept wondering if she would allow me that privilege. I 'm not sure how long her feet continued massaging my crotch. Occasionally, one of her toes slipped underneath the edge of the taped 'sanitary pad' and made direct contact with the wet sticky skin beneath. I wasn't sure whether these slips were accidental or intentional but the touch of her foot against my flesh was very sensual. Finally she stopped, gave me a moment to cool down, she ordered me to pull my Jockey shorts back up and helped me back into my kneeling position.

There was another wait before she allowed me to remove the blindfold. She warned me again to keep my eyes lowered and not to let my line of sight to rise above the bottom of her knee. This time the admonition was accompanied by a not so veiled threat of the actions she might take should I fail to heed her. When I released the blindfold and recovered my vision, I was treated to the sight of her feet dangling not more than six inches in front of my face. Without any further hesitation she pushed the sole of her foot up against my face and ordered me to treat it as well or better than I had treated her boots. From her reading of my fantasies, she was aware that I enjoy the sight, smell and taste of feminine feet and find them extremely erotic. The experience of oral foot service is a real turn-on for me. I sometimes think that beautiful feminine feet are as provocative and erotic as the female breast -- and all of the toes of lovely feet are like beautiful hard nipples to me. A second later I was eagerly tonguing her feet, being careful not to miss even the tiniest area. She forced my mouth open with her toe enabling her to stick additional toes and more of her feet into my mouth. She pushed her toes as far into my mouth as she could without choking me. I reacted like an infant with a pacifier, I couldn't get enough of the toes. Since I wasn't able to see her face, I wasn't certain that the experience was arousing for her. She certainly was able to see how sexually stimulating it was for me . Still, even in the excitement of attending her feet, I could hear the rhythm of her breathing. It had become more rapid and pronounced. Was I really turning her on?

As I continued to suck her toes, taking each of them into my mouth and then sucking several of them at the same time, she began another barrage of verbal abuse. This onslaught was like music to my ears. She reminded me that only a few minutes before her toes and soles of her feet had massaged the area around my cock and balls. She reminded my that it had even penetrated beneath the 'sanitary pad' touching my cock and the moist sticky area of my own pre-cum lubricating fluid that had pooled around it. She said that by sucking her cum moistened toes I was sucking my own cock by proxy. How could she have known that for many years I have had wet dreams fantasizing about sucking my own cock and wondering what the experience would feel like? She knew, of course, from reading my 'homework' assignments that some of the Mistresses I'd served before had forced me to suck cocks. She was also aware that after the first few times when I resisted, I actually began to enjoy the experience of 'giving head. In fact, I had admitted that I actually got to be very skilled, and actually looked forward to doing it, even though I 'm usually heterosexual. I had told her that there were times when I want to be forced to take a flaccid cock into my mouth and hear my Mistress order me to 'make it stiff.' I had admitted that at times I still yearned to feel the explosive spasms of ejaculation cannonading in my mouth, shooting hot sticky liquid bullets of cum one after another against my tonsils. But I have never had the experience of feeling the head of my own penis enter my mouth.

Some of Mistresses I'd served previously would entertain themselves and their friends by ordering me to suck my own cock. I would bend and twist my body into a variety of unnatural positions like a contortionist trying to accomplish this task but I was never able to do it. The Mistresses used my failure to accomplish this as an excuse for whipping me. I was so turned on by the idea of doing it that, even after being freed, I tried this feat again many times for my own pleasure while my muscles were still supple enough to accomplish it, but I never succeeded.

At any rate when Mistress Barbara raised the specter, I felt another electric-like twinge run through body and returned to task of licking her feet and sucking her toes with renewed ardor. I was like a puppy relishing a meaty bone. Worshipping feet is always a sexually exciting experience, this time I got the feeling she experienced the same pangs of excitement. I 'm not certain how long my tongue continued to minister to her feet but after what seemed a very long time finally ordered to stop. Although the feelings in my mouth and elsewhere in my body were pleasurable, my tongue and cheeks were aching and my lips were dry and beginning to chap. I watched her feet as she walked out of the room for a short time. Before she left, she gave me a drink of water and ordered me to get back down my knees blindfolding me again. I had to remain there until she returned.

It is difficult to accurately gauge the passage of time when you don't have a watch and you are kneeling on the floor blindfolded and semi-naked. After a short time I felt the vibrations of her footsteps as she walked lightly across the carpeted floor. She had returned. Suddenly I experienced the sensation of sheer fabric being rubbed against my cheeks and under my nose and a pungent odor entering my nostrils. A pleasant warmth radiated onto my face followed by the faint sound of fabric brushing against flesh. She took my hand and carefully guided it forward until I was touching soft and warm flesh. She allowed my fingers to linger there for only a moment before guiding my hand back to its original position behind my back. I felt a body which I assume was hers moving ever closer until my forehead, nose and lips caressed her soft feminine flesh. I heard her warn me to be still and anticipated that momentarily she would order me to taste what I could only imagine to be her pussy and to sample and savor its delightful odors, but that was a privilege I had not yet earned. She was preparing me for the ignominious humiliation of the next act she had in mind.

Mistress Barbara ordered me to get back into a groveling position pushing my nose into the carpet. She told me to creep forward until told to stop. When I got to the place she'd selected she stopped me. She instructed me to push my head forward and to pick up an object lying on the floor with my teeth. I had to carry it wherever I was told to. I felt like a dog bringing his mistress a newspaper. From the texture and taste I immediately knew that I was carrying a pair of her worn panties in my mouth. She made me crawl around the floor with this lacy object in my mouth. Since I was blindfolded she used the sound of her voice to guide me. Though I couldn't see her face, I could hear her laughing when I clumsily bumped into the wall a couple of times. I suppose that my performance was satisfactory because she ordered me to "stay" on my haunches and took the object from my teeth.

The next thing I knew was that the silky fabric of her panties was being pushed against my face. They felt slightly moist. A variety of scents and odors wafted through my nostrils. First there was a subtle but pleasing bouquet of a cologne or perfume. Next I smelled the very faint smells of detergent and vinegar. The stronger aromas were there too. The most pronounced was the ammonia-like odor of dried urine and a musky odor which was familiar but enigmatic. After a few seconds I realized that what I was smelling was the lubricating juices that must have flowed from deep within the recesses of her pussy. I was in heaven after figuring out that one because that meant that at some time either before our "training" session began or sometime afterward the scene that she was directing must have sexually aroused her stirring her sex juices. To further make the point of her total dominance over me and of my absolute readiness to comply with her every wish, she held the panties tightly against my nose. This action impaired my breathing. For a split second, I thought I would suffocate.

In a firm and unmistakably serious tone, she commanded me to open my mouth. I felt fabric being pushed slowly into my mouth and began to taste a variety of distinctive and pungent flavors. I don't know how many times she had worn these panties. I was certain that I was tasting a build up of layer upon layer of perspiration, urine, vaginal secretions, dried menstrual blood, and even smeared stains of feces that had adhered to the surface of the delicate silk panties. I tried to visualize tongues of fabric literally French-kissing the hot lips of her pussy and anus time after time and being permeated with her essences. At first tasting the fabric and the richly diverse soaked in flavors I thought that I would gag and vomit, but I didn't. She warned me that there would be dire consequences If I did. Then she asked whether I could breathe comfortably. I tried to answer but with her panties filling my mouth I could only gurgle gibberish. So I nodded my head.

A few seconds or maybe minutes passed, and my saliva began mixing with the juice soaked panties. My natural reflex was to spit out this ball of fabric. She must have seen that coming and pushed it back in. Then she directed me to pull down my Jockey shorts around my knees. Knowing that it was foolish to refuse and that any delay would bring me swift punishment, I did as I was told.. I found myself bare assed naked, and I would have been totally naked except for the beige colored patch of nylon taped to my crotch that covered my erect penis and my testicles. That's why I was dumbfounded when she gave her next instruction and told me to pull the tape that secured the folded 'sanitary pad' from my belly. The tone of her voice told me that her orders were to be obeyed without hesitation. The sharp pain stung as I ripped the tape away from my skin taking more than a few of my pubic hairs with it. The pain echoed on for several minutes afterwards. Now I was blind-folded and totally naked. I visualized how ridiculous I must have looked. I could feel my prick standing rigidly at attention pointing I n a direction slightly upward from perpendicular. I pictured a flagpole leaning away from a tall building. My scrotum and balls hung straight down like a flag at half-mast in still air. Though I couldn't see her, I felt a new flush of embarrassment knowing that she was watching me.
I didn't expect what happened next. She took the folded panty hose from me, pushing them up my body belly and chest with her hands till they rested under my chin. The touch of her rubber covered fingers stroked my cheeks and I smelled their distinctive scent. A moment later the wet mesh of fine denier of nylons was being pulled across my mouth. I heard the screech of tape being torn away from its roll and felt adhesive pulling tight and sealing my mouth.. Now it was physically impossible to spit out her balled-up soiled panties from my mouth. The further ignominy of the situation was that I was forced to smell my own pre-cum fluids which had soaked the panty-hose and to feel the moist fabric glued to my cheeks and chin. I heard the click of metal behind my head and felt her pull my arms and shackle them together. The tightness of the metal cuffs created a burning sensation that was extremely uncomfortable. I made a muffled moaning sound and she loosened the cuffs just a bit. Still I stood there completely helpless, unable to see, speak, or move my arms and it was also very difficult for me to walk since my shorts were draped around my knees.

I tried to picture how ridiculous I must have looked at that moment. The thought of other people watching me being humiliated and giggling or laughing at me flashed through my mind for a brief instant. Ironically, that thought turned me on too -- I actually wanted her to exhibit me as I was at that moment in front of a crowd of onlookers. I heard a clicking and whirring sound, accompanied by a sudden bright flash of light which I was able to see despite being blindfolded. She was taking pictures of me. She said she would hide these pictures away in a safe place. She said they were her insurance policy and would guarantee that I would never disclose anything about this afternoon to anyone for any reason. If I violated her trust she threatened to send the pictures to my wife, the police, and even to the local media.

She extended her arm, assisted my walking and led me what seemed like more than a few steps. I felt my body being gently pushed down until my knees rested on a soft padded fabric. She released my hands from their metal cuffs for a moment to allow my blood to circulate freely. Meantime I heard what sounded like the squeak of unlubricated metal and I felt the cold touch of metal against my wrists and my chin. She snapped a pair of hand cuffs around each of my wrists attaching them to what I assumed then and later found to be a horizontal round metal bar about one inch in diameter. The bar was a part of a metal frame slightly wider than my body. It extended from just under my chin to just above my ankles. My knees were resting on a padded cushion which along with the metal was apparently part of some unique mechanism designed for bondage and punishment. My bare feet hung over the bottom of the cushioned part of this mechanism. I felt her push them, one at a time, into what felt like pockets made of the kind of fabric that lines bedroom slippers. Next I heard a snap and the sound of Velcro straps fastening and holding them in. Then, the distinctive sound of a zipper which slid each the slippers independently of one another and felt my feet and legs being pulled apart and being positioned as she wanted. There was a cranking sound and a slight tug and I felt that both the mechanism and I were being lifted off the ground. Finally, I sensed her walking around the front of the mechanism and I heard the sound of a metal clasp coming from the area near my penis. I became quickly aware of feeling metal near my cock which was flapping helplessly like a flagpole in a windstorm. As my cock throbbed involuntarily, its tender and sensitive flesh occasionally bounced off of something cold and metallic that seemed to surround it on all sides, yet didn't touch it. I could smell her perfume as she checked my bindings. I felt a hand touch the back of my head as the blindfold was pulled away.

I blinked trying to regain my vision. Before I could do that the brilliant light from an electronic camera flash once again blinded me. When my vision returned I could not see Mistress Barbara anywhere but I was forced to look at my situation. Clearly I was no longer in her office at least not in any part of it that I 'd seen before. The wall in front of me was mirrored from floor to ceiling. The mirror was mounted so that it did not reflect a strip about four feet wide on either side of it. Any one locked up in this device was unable to see any person or object that was directly on either side of him or on standing a parallel plane with the contraption. She must have been standing there because I couldn't find her. Another mirror covered the wall directly behind me. Since I was unable to move and the range of motion of my head was severely limited, I was compelled to look at reflections of my trussed-up naked body from the front and rear simultaneously. A small mirror hanging from the ceiling and a similar one beneath could be adjusted to provide views from above and below. Thus, the person locked in this contraption was forced to view themselves from all directions simultaneously. A thick padding of a vinyl-like material covered the walls on either side of the mirror. This material was also wrapped one the walls on either side and covered the ceiling. This muted any sound coming from inside the room.

Not that it mattered in my case, since Mistress Barbara had creatively and cleverly gagged me. She told me that this room was her dungeon and that it was a secret room immediately adjacent to the office where she saw patients. Even from my limited field of vision, I could see that there were a variety of whips and paddles hanging from a horizontal wooden bar off to the side near the front of the room. Harnesses and some other instruments of bondage also hung from it. There was a chest of drawers on the side of the room where she was apparently standing that she told me held other 'toys' of pleasure. There was the reflection of another elaborate piece of bondage and discipline furniture which I could see from the corner of my eye. The door into and out of this secret room was disguised making it nearly impossible for anyone who didn't know it was there and even persons who did to see it. She informed me that the room had been built for her by one of her 'slaves' with some assistance from others. She said that this was the ideal place for her to entertain and train slaves. No one outside of the slaves she allowed to visit would ever be aware of its existence. She also promised that if there were any future encounters between us, she would allow me to see them and perhaps to experience how she played with some of her toys.

She announced that she would be leaving me alone for a while and that she wanted me to contemplate on my likely fate while she was gone. In the minutes or maybe half-hour of solitude that followed -- I had lost any notion of the passage of time on this afternoon --, I was fully able to view my physical condition and to appreciate the diabolically clever problems it posed for anyone unfortunate enough to be caught like this. One of the cleverest parts of the contraption was the metallic ring that surrounded my erect cock. It wasn't a traditional 'cock ring' that, because it didn't actually touch my body, in fact is was more like a cage. Its design effectively prevented me from losing my erection It was positioned and constructed to make it impossible for the penis to dangle at anything other than a right angle from the body. Because my scrotum and balls were encased by another ring that hung from the bar and of which I was not previously aware, a metal barrier made it impossible for the cock and penis to touch each other as they normally would when flaccid. Thus whether or not I remained as aroused as I 'd been for most of the afternoon didn't really matter. I couldn't touch myself in any way in order to maintain the state of arousal and excitement, so I would have to maintain an erection through sheer force of will alone. This would be an excellent test of my muscle control. Another ingenious part of this device was the mechanism used to spread the 'victim's' feet. Each foot was encased in its own separate tight cloth envelope. The envelopes were independently connected to a zipper creating two separate zipper tracks. All the person controlling the device had to do was to pull a short line connected to each zipper as much to the left or right as desired and the feet, legs and buttocks areas of the 'victims' body would have to follow suit -- spreading or closing to suit the dominant person's purpose. Since I was suspended about six inches off the ground it was impossible to use any leverage to resist being spread. The device which was nothing more than a frame, could also be bent in the middle, to bend and angle the victim's body at will. I had no choice but to wait and see what was store for me.

When Mistress Barbara finally returned it was the first time I'd seen her since being blindfolded. She had at sometime earlier completely changed her clothing and appearance and now stood in front of me dressed like a Dominatrix. The first sight I caught of her wearing a full body leather suit sent erotic chills up and down my spine There were zippered flaps covering strategic places like her crotch, buttocks and each breast. These could be opened or taken off to expose those areas of the body to titillate a slave or if the Mistress was in the mood to have one or more of those areas of her body orally worshipped. In the crotch area, the flap could open to give of a 'golden shower' or provide 'a drink of yellow water'. Dr. Dupree's physical appearance was also completely altered. She wore a long auburn colored wig. She obviously remembered that I'm attracted to redheads She also removed her glasses and I was looking into deep green eyes which complemented the auburn wig. She was a strikingly beautiful and extremely erotic Dominatrix.

As she approached, I could see that she was holding a small 'cat of nine tails' in her leather gloved hand. She placed the 'cat' near my taped and gagged mouth and softly ordered me to kiss it. As she was now in my line of sight, I was forced to watch her circle and inspect my trussed up naked body. I felt flattered when she complimented my cock and called it a 'lovely specimen'. However, there was something ominous when she ended her statement with, 'it doesn't really matter though, since none of my slaves ever get to use their 'little boy sticks' anyhow, and sometimes they don't even think they have one.' She surprised me when she extended her gloved hand and brushed it across my buttocks pausing momentarily at the crack between the cheeks. She used the handle of the cat to gently pry them apart circling the rim of my asshole. She acknowledged the tightness of my asshole, wondering aloud whether a 'live' cock had ever fucked my ass.

Passing in front of me she squeezed each of my nipples gently and extended her leather covered finger to circle the head of my cock. Then she squeezed each of my helpless testicles. As if it was necessary to shame me further, she told me that if I had been able to use my mouth, she would have forced her gloved hand and the handle of the cat into my mouth. After her brief inspection we were now face to face. She made some adjustments to reposition my body. Then she rolled in a gurney and lowered me onto to it. She pushed a button so that I was lying flat. I felt my legs being pulled apart until they were spread widely enough to feel slightly uncomfortable. There I was, naked, fully exposed and helpless for her to use in any way that she wanted. Mistress Barbara was finally ready.

She circled me before finally positioning her torso in front of me. The tight leather suit silhouetted and accentuated her figure. There was no mistaking how voluptuous and curvy she was. She unbuttoned and discarded the lower part of her leather suit. She did it slowly and sensuously. My eyes were treated to the sight of her naked pussy for the first time. Her pussy was shaved and hairless. She told me that she had shaved herself specifically for this occasion. Then she turned around and allowed me to see her ass. I had been right in thinking that she kept herself in excellent shape, Dr. Dupree had the body of a woman of thirty. Without any further delay, she positioned her pussy directly above my mouth. She paused, giving me the opportunity to get and appreciate a panoramic view of her gorgeous cunt and ass as they hovered above my face. Then she slowly lowered herself onto my face and ordered me to bring her to orgasm. She didn't need any further inspiration, threats or incentives, I knew that I was about to perform a 'labor of love'. I pushed my tongue deep into her slit and allowed it to probe inside. At the same time I was listening and watching for the right signals that would let me know that I was bringing her pleasure . At times she sat on my face so hard that she smothered me and I couldn't breathe. Sometimes she adjusted her body so that my nose was forced into the crack of her lovely ass. Although she ordered me not to stop servicing her pussy, she also made it clear that as her tongue slave, there would times when she might require me to orally service her puckered little ring hole too. I found her clit and focused all of my attention and energy on that little fleshy stub of nerve endings. She squirmed and sighed deeply as I playfully nipped at her love button. I knew that I was on the right track.

As this was going on, Mistress Barbara began stroking the cat-o-nine tails down along my body. At first, the leather tendrils brushed gently against my balls, tickling them. She skillfully used it so that the entire length of my erect cock on both the top and bottom sides felt its stroke. Pleasant electric tingles coursed throughout my body. I felt a sharp but bearable stinging sensation as she deftly flicked the cat across the wrinkled surface of my scrotum, then a second stinging tap as she did it again. This time the strokes were harder than the first time. She turned her attention to the head of my penis, using the cat's multiple tails to slap it, on the right side and then on the left. I counted ten lashes. The pain felt like a series of pin pricks, gradually building in intensity into a single gigantic sting. Though it was painful, I was able to endure it. In fact, I found the experience to be sexually pleasurable. It was comparable to feeling of someone stroking my cock playfully. Since this was our first experience together, she told me that she would be merciful and subject me to only a few and only moderate strokes. It was almost as if she were telling me that this was just a sampling of her capabilities. She flicked the cat so that the tails caught the tip of each of my nipples -- which were hard due to my extreme state of sexual arousal. I tried not to cringe or flinch as the painful bite spread across my chest

All of this stimulation only heightened my own arousal. I picked up the pace and intensity of my tonguing. My lips were locked around her swollen clit and creating a tight suction that only added to her pleasure Her thighs tightened around my head, gripping my cheeks like a vise. As she rode my face, Mistress Barbara alternated between contracting and relaxing her muscles. Her breathing had become very labored. Her thighs were twitching involuntarily. She quickened the pace of her whipping in synch with the action of my tongue. She began to moan and to encourage me verbally with her cries of 'yes', 'oh god', and 'that feels so wonderful' Her pussy was hot and dripping wet. Then as her orgasm began, I felt her body tighten noticeably, she trembled and as the orgasm built in intensity it began a violent shudder that reminded me of an earthquake or an erupting volcano. She vented a continuous scream that sounded like a high pitched whistle. Her hot cum gushed out onto my cheeks. After what seemed like an eternity, the spasms subsided and her body finally relaxed. Mistress Barbara continued to sit on my face until her heart beat returned to something resembling its normal rate. Then she finally raised herself up, and immediately left the room. I was left there alone and helpless, waiting for her to return. The smell, taste, and feel of her pussy stayed with me too.

When she returned she re-blindfolded me and began loosening my bonds. It took a few minutes until I was finally free. I was sweating profusely and my cock and balls ached from the combination of the beating and the constant state of erection I had experienced. Mistress Barbara told me that I was a good candidate to become one of her long term 'part-time slaves' without being specific about when I might be able to see her again. She ended our 'session' by saying that she wanted time to think about future contact while reassuring me of the pleasure I 'd brought her. She kissed me of the lips. Hers tasted like honey.

Though she didn't have to do it, she spent a few minutes telling me some things about herself. She told me that she had harbored dominant feelings for most of her life probably since the tender age of twelve when she first recognized sexuality. At thirteen she had even considered dominating her divorced father, but she didn't. Instead she learned the arts of domination at the tender age of fifteen while still in high school. She dominated several boyfriends during her high school, college, and graduate school years and that she had been the dominant 'Mistress' of the Principal of her high school, several of her college professors and later the Dean of the Graduate College. She mentioned that if we had future sessions she would tell me more about her experiences during those years when she was at the height of her dominant powers.

Dr. Dupree said that she kept a small stable of slaves, most of who have served her for many years and occasionally she would add a slave or two to her stable. She also told me that there have been times when she have dominated a patient with chronic sexual problems who did not subsequently become a regular slave.-- thus it was necessary to photograph them performing various acts of servitude as a safeguard.

Just before she sent me into the bathroom to shower and dress, she told me that she would contact me when and if she decided to have any future sessions with me. She gave me the code phrase that she will use to let me know of her interest. When she uses it I 'm supposed to answer with another code phrase and set up an appointment for a 'therapy session' whose length could vary anywhere from an hour to an entire day. Then she ordered me not to masturbate or to relieve my sexual tension in any other way until the next morning. She told me that she would know whether I had violated that instruction and I would have to suffer the consequences if I disobeyed. She said that I could remove my blindfold I n the bathroom, then kissed me tenderly on the cheek and said good-bye. She told me that I would not be seeing she again that afternoon. I nearly cried simultaneously experiencing joy, humiliation, and gratitude for being permitted to serve her.

There's one thing of which I'm certain and that is that I've never been so completely and wonderfully dominated as I was by her yesterday. Even though she would not allow me the relief or privilege of touching myself or masturbating to release the tremendous sexual tension that had built-up over the course of four hours, I enjoyed being humiliated by her. I confess that the suspense of trying to anticipate what she had planned for me, aroused me even more. To be totally truthful, it was the best erotic encounter of any kind I've ever experienced. Not in my wildest fantasies did I ever imagine that anyone could control me in the ways that she did. I sincerely hope that she will allow me the privilege of serving her again very soon. If she does, I know that she will plan some devilishly wonderful ways to dominate, humiliate and frustrate me. I look forward to groveling at her feet once more. I hope that she will allow me to worship her pussy again.

It is now six months later. My wife and I are back together again. Our sex life has improved dramatically. Take last night for example, before making love to her, I re-read this story. What followed was the best sex we've had in years. I don't remember when I 've ever had a more intense climax. My wife's orgasm was spectacular too! While I tried very hard to keep my mind as well as my body in bed with my wife, I wasn't always successful. There were times when I drifted away and imagined myself to be back on my knees in Dr. Dupree's secret 'dungeon', being dominated by her. Mistress Barbara is probably not interested but last night I must have cum for nearly five minutes before my orgasm finally subsided. The quantities of cum were so copious that you would have thought I was a young man in my early 20's rather than in my forties. It took my wife nearly an hour to douche herself completely clean. I offered to help her, saying that I would be happy to let her use my mouth for that task but, alas, she turned me down each time I offered. She thought that I was joking and she didn't realize how sincere and serious I really was. But, then, she's not yet a Dominatrix, even though at times I wish she were. I'm still working on making that happen. If my wife ever does agree, I'll be sure to send her to Dr. DuPree for lessons, so that she can learn from the best. I'm making progress along those lines, too. At least we're now able to discuss the subject of sexual domination without my wife leaving or cutting off the discussion. I'm optimistic. By the way, my wife hasn't stopped smiling since last night and she keeps calling me her 'stud'. I hope that someday I'll be able tell her about the real inspiration for my sexual performance.

In case you're wondering, I do visit Dr. Dupree from time to time. She's exposed me to much, much, more of her special brand of therapy. We've made a lot of progress. I know I enjoy our time together and I think that she does ... but then that's the subject of another story.

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