Ash’s Punishment

I’m sorry ma’am. I’m sorry ma’am. I’m sorry ma’am.

The lopsided scrawl of the lines I had written sat beneath me, and my lip trembled as I looked down at them one last time, and came. My semen splashed across the page and I squinted hard, overcome by my orgasm and the humiliation of what she had instructed me to do.

“Good boy,” her message read as it arrived beneath the picture, and for a moment I thought it was over, but as the next one followed I knew I was still in trouble. “I’m gonna be done with work in half an hour, and in an hour’s time I expect you to be at my apartment with that letter in hand. Let me know when you’re on your way.”

I looked at the time and nearly ran into the bathroom to turn on the shower. The hot water splashed against the chill running down my spine as I replayed the events in my mind, anticipating whatever it was that she had in mind for when I arrived.

It had been a small infraction, or so it would seem, but in the short time I had been seeing her Ash had surprised me with how strict she could be. She had a thing for making me remove her socks using just my tongue, and she’d wait for minutes while I struggled. She would also sit on my face with little provocation, just to make sure I knew what was what. But today I hadn’t seen it coming at all. We had been texting while she was at work, and she had instructed me to imagine sucking her big toe while I masturbated for her, and when I texted back how much I wanted them in my mouth I had accidentally typed “toes” plural.

“How dare you you greedy little slut?!” she had responded. “If I was there right now I’d shove my whole foot in your mouth for that. You’re in trouble.”

In another 30 minutes I was knocking on her door. I shifted my weight as I waited, the smeared ink and dried cum staining the letter in my hands, and as the door opened she laughed.

“Geez,” she said. “Haha. You must be trying to get yourself in even more trouble. Get on your knees when you greet me! What do you think this is?”

I looked around quickly and did as she said, and then she snapped her fingers and pointed inside. I crawled in across the welcome mat and past her legs and she shut the door behind me, and then she circled around in front of me and stood there, looking down. I sat back slightly and looked up at her towering above me, her hands on her wide hips, her tattooed arms leading up to a stern but smirking face, and she tossed her brown bangs out of her eyes and I heard the tapping of her foot on the tile entryway.

I looked down at the rolled up cuffs of her pale blue jeans, the three inches or so of her bare ankles, and at her mint green Converse low-tops.

“Ahem,” she said, and she held out her hand as I looked back up at her face. I gave her the letter and she ordered me to kiss the tops of her shoes as she looked it over. “Good boy,” she said, and I felt her soft laces and the stiff canvas on my lips as the words washed over me. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, Lady Ash.” My voice shook a little.

“Very good.” She snapped her fingers again and turned on her heel, and I followed her, crawling on the carpet past the living room and down the narrow hallway, watching the flash of her rubber soles as she led me to her room.

It was simple, minimalistic even, with just a couple of little tables (each with a couple of plants and crystals), a lamp, and a large tapestry of a colorful, geometric elephant above the mattress she kept on the floor. She went over to the window and drew the heavy drapes halfway, and then she turned around and looked down at me again.

She snapped again and pointed to the space at the end of the mattress, at the foot of the bed, and I crawled over and she stepped in front of me.

“Look at my feet, slut.” I bowed my head and watched as she pressed the toe of her right shoe up against the heel of her left and pushed her heel out of her shoe. Her socks were black, worn, and faded, with a solid red heel, toe, and sole, and I knew they were the ones she had been wearing three mornings ago, when I had seen her last. She rolled her ankle and then she reached down and picked up her shoe, kneeling down and grabbing the hair on the back of my head. She shoved her sneaker in my face and I felt the moist insole against my nose and mouth, and the roughness of the canvas against my cheeks.

“Sniff.” she said firmly. I squinted at her for a moment, my face screwing up as I tried to resist, but she repeated herself. “Sniff!”

I sputtered and exhaled, and then finally I did as she commanded, my nose filling with the stink of her Converse. I whimpered into it, and she made me sniff again and again, and then she took off her other one and made me sniff that one too.

When she was satisfied she tossed them aside and sat down on the mattress and looked me straight in the eye.

“Now this is what we’re going to do.” She lifted a foot and placed her toes against my forehead, scooting it to one side and relaxing her heel to cover one side of my face. “You’re gonna worship my feet. In fact, you’re gonna smell my footstink from being in those shoes all day at work. You’re gonna smell my socks and kiss my feet, and then we’ll talk about your punishment. Do you understand?”

I nodded, her foot pressing harder into my face, and then she lifted her other one alongside it and covered my face. I shuddered, and I leaned into them, and then she said, loudly, “Smell my feet!”

She repositioned and scrunched her toes around my nose, pressing the balls of her feet up underneath it. “Smell them!”

I finally caved and smelled, and I whined softly again as the stink of them filled me up. They were so stinky from the several days she had been wearing them, and it was so humbling to be subjected to them.

I sniffed deeply, again and again, until finally she said, “Good boy. Now kiss them. Show them you’re grateful.” I began kissing her soles as she lifted them off of me. “Show them how glad you are that they stink.”

She pulled her knees back and looked at me from in between them. “My feet own you,” she said defiantly, and then she stuck them back in my face.

Finally she lowered them and began undoing her pants, and when she pulled them off she was wearing a pair of burgundy cotton panties with lace trim under her black, ribbed tank top. She pulled off her bra through her sleeve and tossed it aside, and then she reached into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out her vibrator.

She held it up and showed it to me, hot pink and textured, with a white handle, amply but reasonably sized. She readjusted herself and spread her legs, reaching her hand down to rub at her folds, and she let me look as she spread her glistening lips and showed me her hole.

Her thumb hit the button and the toy started buzzing, and she scooted into place and extended her leg out straight. She put the tip of the vibrator to her pussy and pushed it in, and as she sighed sharply she lifted her foot back up to my face.

“Kiss it, slave! Kiss my foot!”

I heard her breathing catch and the wet slurps of her pussy as she thrust the toy in and out of her, and I kissed her foot while she masturbated.

She shifted again, more fully onto her back, and she beckoned me closer as she pushed it in again. I leaned forward, and she hooked her foot around the back of my head and pulled me in, grabbing my hair with her other hand and sticking my face right up against her pussy. She pressed her thigh against my cheek and I watched the buzzing toy go in and out, her juice dripping and drizzling down it, and I heard her gasp and moan.

Before I knew it she was cumming, and she bucked her hips and shook, her muscles clenching tightly. She tapped the button again and it shut off, and I listened to her breathing for a minute as she held it inside her. She nudged me with her leg and when I sat up and watched her pull it out she nodded back down to the foot of the bed.

“Put your knees on the edge of the bed. Head towards the wall. And undo your pants and your belt and put your hands in front of you.”

I got into position and she stood up behind me, and she went over to grab one of her discarded shoes. She unfolded the letter and sat it on the floor beneath me, where I could see, and then she placed her sneaker on top of it and, to my surprise, inserted the base of the dildo so that the shaft was sticking out of the heel.

I looked down at it as she went around behind me and pulled down my pants and underwear. I felt her look down at my bare ass for a moment, and she chuckled softly, and then she sat back down and said, “You’re gonna suck that dildo now, while I spank you. Go on. Put it in your mouth.”

I lowered my head slowly to the glistening toy, opening my lips and feeling it push against my tongue, and from behind me she sat up and put her hand on the back of my head. “All the way down. I want that slut mouth filled with my vibrator. Get your nose in my shoe!”

The paper crinkled and I saw the corner of my cum-stained lines beneath the edge of her shoe, and she tucked my nose in and ordered me to suck. I felt the dildo fill my mouth, tasted her fluid, and then helplessly I began to suck. She sat back and I heard the drawer of the nightstand open again, and I felt her scoot close to me before placing her hand on my bottom and rubbing it softly.

The first crack of her leather paddle snapped through the air and I grunted, the sound getting lost between her dildo and her shoe. I sniffed helplessly and braced for the next one, and the next one came, and then another. She spanked me over and over again, slowly, then quickly, softly, then hard. She kept spanking and my ass got more and more sensitive, more and more aware of every strike.

Minutes went by as I waited for her to be satisfied, a grunt or a groan spilling from me now and again, and then finally she gave me one last hard and firm one, and then I felt her hand return and rub me again. She leaned back to her nightstand and I heard the cap pop on a bottle of oil that she kept, and she drizzled it over my burning cheeks.

She rubbed it in gently, and then tapped the small of my back and told me to get up and turn around. She looked into my eyes and grabbed my chin, bringing her lips to mine and thrusting her tongue into my mouth.

“Good boy,” she said, and she reached around behind me and squeezed my ass, and then she added, “Next time is going to be a lot worse.”

She had me lay down with my head at the foot of the bed, and she reached down to pull off her socks before tossing me the bottle of lube. “Alright, slave. I’m giving you another chance. As I said before, you are to take my big toe… and ONLY my big toe… into your mouth and give me a cum tribute. You’re going to tribute each of my toes individually. I don’t care if it takes all night, but I’m going to get ten orgasms for my ten perfect toes. Got it?”


© 2018

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