Begging for a Blowjob

I don’t know why I wanted it so badly. It’s not even usually my thing, but when she asked me I knew what the answer was.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, more in a way that demanded my honesty rather than one that demonstrated any readiness or desire to please me.

“I..,” I hesitated, not wanting to admit it, what with all the time she had spent training me to attend to her needs and her whims, her wishes and her desires. It almost felt selfish. “I want… I want a blowjob,” I finally finished.

“I see,” she replied, showing almost no reaction, turning her attention back to the book she was reading. There was a pause, a long one, while I worked up the courage to press the issue.

“Will you give me one?” I asked, and she turned the page.

“Will I give you one what?” she returned, not looking up.

“A blowjob,” I repeated.

There was another pause as she finished a paragraph. “What about it?”

I sighed. “Will you give me a blowjob?” I reiterated, just a fraction too emphatically in my budding exasperation. She looked up and set the book down in her lap.

“Of course I won’t!” she said quietly, in a way that was full of indignation and reproach. “Not when you put it like that. Of course I won’t ‘give you a blowjob.’ How utterly ridiculous. Come get under my feet for your impertinence, right now.”

I crawled over to her, humiliated, the way she had trained me to. She slipped off one the finely crafted high heels she had been wearing for most of the day, putting her ankle against her knee and showing me the sole of her stocking-clad foot. “Put your face in my foot,” she said. “And hold it there until you are sorry, until I release you.”

I did as she said, humiliated anew by her sweat and the sweet, silky stink of her foot. I kept my hands by my side, like I had been taught, and I earnestly pressed my face into her sole. I didn’t know why I was being punished, why she was so affronted by my desire, but when she spoke again it made things clear.

“I may indeed grace you with oral sex, my slave, but believe me when I say that I will never, ever ‘give you a blowjob.'” There was such disdain in her voice as she said the words, even some small amount of contempt. “Understand?”

I screwed up my face and pressed it into her sole again, nodding in understanding, and when she grabbed my hair and pulled me back from it she looked down at me from over her glasses. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes ma’am, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect. I understand Mistress.”

“Good boy,” she said. “And yes, perhaps, as you are frequently so well behaved, I will deign to afford you this pleasure. But not until you work out how to ask me properly.” She slipped out of her other shoe and put her ankles together again, and she pointed to the floor beneath her. “I’m going to give you some time to think about it. Five minutes under my feet, and then you may ask me again. Until that time you are not to say a single word.”

She snapped her fingers and I laid down, rolling over beneath them and looking up at her soles. She brought them down on my face and held them there, and I sighed as I began thinking of other ways to say it, other ways to express what I wanted.

When the five minutes were up, she sat down her book, lifted her feet and parted them, letting me look up at her between them, and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Please may I put my dick in your mouth, Mistress?”

She paused, her eyes fixed unflinchingly on mine, letting me hear the words that I said.

“Wrong,” she said simply, returning her feet to my face. “Five minutes more.”

As the light was blotted out again I reconsidered the question. I was feeling more humbled in my place beneath her feet, and I tried to work out how to ask it better. I tried to adjust to the powerful scent that surrounded me.

When she lifted them again I was ready.

“Will you please suck my dick Mistress?”

She waited.

“No,” she said shortly, and she returned her feet to my face. “Another five minutes.”

I grunted, humiliated again. I knew she could go on like this for hours, content as she was in her reading and deliberate as she was in her discipline. I squirmed in my struggle and she kept my head pinned to the ground. I returned to the effort, and tried again when she lifted them once more.

“P-please Mistress,” I stammered. “May I be allowed to have oral sex?”

She considered this for a moment.

“You’re getting closer,” she said, her stockinged soles descending again. “But I wish you would pay more attention to me in your request. Perhaps in another five minutes you’ll be more flattering.”

The time ticked by and I struggled, subjected to her sweaty soles and trying in earnest to please her. She lifted them again and I looked desperately up at her face, trying to read a tip or a hint from her expression, but in the end I could only try the best that I had thought of.

“Glorious Mistress, most high and beloved, please would you be willing to grant me oral sex?”

“Ah!” she said, but still her feet returned. “Now that’s somewhat better. You’ve begun to show me some respect now, haven’t you? I knew you would learn some manners beneath the soles of my feet. But you’ve forgotten to show me your appreciation for this generosity you crave. Try again. Ten minutes now.”

I whined at the extension of the time, but she just pressed her feet down in answer and settled back in. I listened to the silence that draped her and suffered beneath her, and when she lifted them again I was desperate.

“Please Mistress, most wonderful and strong, may I be allowed the pleasure of your skills in receiving the blessings of your charity and grace?”

She smiled this time. And I whimpered as she subjected me again to her stink.

“Oh, you’re doing so well!” she said. “I’m just sure you’re going to get it sooner or later. I suppose we’ll only know after you’ve spent another five minutes with my feet.”

I shuddered with desperation, struggling against becoming frustrated or tense, and I renewed my commitment to her authority. I knew that as exacting as she was she was kind, and generous, and so many other wonderful things. I desperately wanted to please her, and to show her I was worthy.

“Oh I’m sure this is the good one,” she said as she looked down sympathetically at my face. “I’m sure you’ve got it now.”

She listened, and I rallied the last of my energy. “Mistress,” I began, “may my lowly and unworthy penis, the instrument of your pleasure and amusement, be graced with an audience in the company of your amazing and perfect mouth?”

She looked down and held my gaze, the time oozing by with agonizing slowness, and then she sighed gently, a sigh filled with empathy and tenderness.

“Tsk,” her tongue clicked. “You forgot to say ‘please.'”

She spoke over my cries as her feet again enshrouded my visage.

“Now stop,” she said. “If you want to please me you will beg until I release you.”

I began saying ‘please’ as she rubbed her feet all over my face, pressing and squishing and keeping them moving constantly while I pleaded. I said it over and over and over, and over and over and over again, my face and my voice being smothered by her soles, until finally she relented.

“Good!” she said, setting her book on the couch beside her and sitting forward, withdrawing her feet and looking down at me again. “Now that is how a slave makes a request of his Mistress.” She extended her leg and began removing her stockings.

“On your knees,” she said. She stood over me as she got up, holding them to my nose and exposing me one last time to the hypnotic scent. She tapped my chin and I opened for her, and she stuffed them inside as I grunted.

“This is to make sure that you don’t forget yourself whilst I’m administering your pleasure.” She reached up her skirt to remove her panties and pulled them over my head. “This is so that you remember who’s really in charge, no matter what acts we engage in.”

She bent down and gripped my cock in her hand, and I stiffened appreciatively in her grasp, and she pulled upwards slowly and brought me to my feet.

“Come now,” she said. “You may follow me into the bedroom.”


© 2018

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