Tuesday, April 24, 2007


“Hello, may I speak to Jonathan, please? This is Jefferson calling.”

“This is Jonathan. Good afternoon, Jefferson.”

“Good afternoon. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Sure, now is very good. I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Good, good.” I adjusted myself in my chair, taking care to crush her face with my bare feet. A sigh was muffled by the ball of my right foot.

I stroked her hair with my toes.

“Jonathan, as you know, I’ve been asked to help in the hiring of an assistant on this project. The hiring decision will not be made by myself alone, but it was felt that since this assistant will be working most closely with me, I should have a say in selecting the candidate.”

“Yes, of course.”

I stuffed her mouth with toes. I kicked her knees apart so that I could grind a heel into the flesh of her abdomen.

“Good. Now, I see that your undergraduate degree is from Amherst. They have a fine department there, don’t they? I actually know your adviser fairly well; she’s really top notch. Can you tell me a little about how your studies there led you to choose your current graduate program?”

Jonathan began to relate his academic career. I listened, absentmindedly flexing and relaxing my toes to clutch her labia.

I looked under my desk. Her eyes were closed as she contentedly licked my big toe.

She’s a good girl, I thought.

I kicked her in the tits. I ignored her grunt. “Great, Jonathan. That does seem to be the right program for you. Now, can you say a little about why you applied for this particular placement?”

Eden’s path to the space under my desk had begun with an email a few weeks before.

I’m sure you get this a lot, and I suppose this is kinda coming out of left field, but you only life once, right? I came across your blog a couple of months ago, and I noticed a trend: You have hot sex. And I would like to have hot sex, for once. I’m in the city on an almost daily basis, so if you are interested, drop me a line.

Take care,

She sent a photograph showing a smiling, fresh-faced young woman with long blonde hair.

I was interested.

I was interested, but it would be a while before I could see her. I proposed that we correspond, and asked that with each reply, she provide more photographs.

“Sure,” she wrote. “What do you want to see?”

I thanked her for offering to take instruction. I created a file for Eden. It filled with images of her modeling panties, of her wet body, of her tangled in bedclothes, of her laughing, of her masturbating. She was comfortable with her nudity, and so my eyes became familiar with every part of her body.

She was also comfortable in opening up her life. She told me about her past experiences with sex and kink. She described herself as bisexual, though she had never been with a woman. She had been with four men, three of whom were forgettable, one of whom she described as “the bad ex.”

(She would later amend this number upwards—she had been with five men. One had been so forgettable that she had actually forgotten him.)

Eden added that she had been experimenting with BDSM for two years. She considered herself a masochist.

Now, that was interesting. She said nothing about being submissive. She was all about the pain.

I set ground rules for meeting her. I don’t dom anyone I’m not fucking, I explained, so sex would be a given. I expected to have full, continuous access to her body. She was not to wear clothes in my home unless specifically instructed. I would look to her to tell me how much pain she could endure, and to tell me how she wanted it. As she was not in a relationship, I would not hesitate to leave marks.

I omitted my preference of receiving bourbon as a tribute. At twenty, she was too young to satisfy that requirement. That could wait.

She readily accepted my ground rules.

I invited her to my place. “Not so much kink on a first date,” I informed her. “I want to get my dick in you to see what you’re made of.”

She arrived precisely on time. She was neither one minute early nor one minute late.

Her eyes were lowered when I opened the door. She looked up when I greeted her. Her mouth was small and firmly set.

I closed the door behind her.

I drew her into a kiss. She gave her mouth easily. She had seemed so demure a moment before. Now she was aroused and passionate.

“Take off your clothes,” I commanded.

She stripped. I stood very close, constricting her movements to a small space. She handed me each article of clothing in turn. I dropped them each to the floor, one by one.

When she was nude, she stood erect, her eyes on mine. I kissed her again, taking her body in my hands. She was firm, with soft skin textured by fine invisible hairs raised to electric attention.

She was also very wet.

“Suck my dick,” I instructed.

She dropped her to her knees. I took out my cock. She examined me. “Are you clean?” she asked.

“Smart girl,” I said, petting her hair. “Yes, I am.”

She took my cock in her mouth.

It wasn’t an audition, but she appreciated that first impressions matter. She used her tongue liberally. She breathed quietly, as if to avoid using too much of my air. She took me deep into her throat.

I wanted more of that. I pulled out, tucked my cock away, and zipped up.

“Come with me,” I ordered, taking her hair in my fist. She complied, dropping her hands to crawl at my side to my bedroom.

I lead her to my chair. “Kneel.”

She knelt, waiting as I undressed.

I sat in the chair, offering her my cock. “Right. Now suck it.”

She blew me with no special urgency or ardor. This suited me well. I intended to take my time enjoying her mouth. She had skill. I wanted to see if she had stamina.

Twenty minutes later, I told her to stop.

She sat back on her haunches, erect.

“Get on the bed. I want to lick your pussy.”

She lay back on the pillows, spreading her legs for me.

“I never cum from this,” she warned.

“Doesn’t concern me,” I lied, shrugging. “I just want your taste.”

She soon came in shudders.

“That puts you in a very small club,” she laughed afterwards.

“I’m pleased to join such select company,” I smiled, reaching for a condom.

I looked into her eyes as I entered her. “Eden, you have a remarkably tight pussy.”

She nodded. “So I’ve been told.”

“Well, that’s very nice,” I said, taking her hair in my fist. I twisted her head to one side. She grunted as she followed my direction.

I leaned forward to kiss her neck as we fucked.

Here again, her stamina was impressive. It was clear that she was content to fuck for as long as I wanted—which can be a very long time.

At one point, I held her chin steady and slapped her.

She grunted, turning her head violently from side to side. She began to thrash her body.

“Eden, no!” I ordered. She calmed down.

I fucked her gently, kissing the offended cheek.

I slapped her again. She grunted and thrashed.

“Eden, no!” I repeated. “You are not to move like that. You could get hurt.”

She calmed herself.

The next time I slapped her, she did not move. She did not grunt. Her nostrils flared, her eyes shot darts, but she behaved.

“Good girl,” I commended. I kissed her ear. “You’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you, Eden?”

“So I’ve been told,” she said through gritted teeth.

I pulled up to look at her. I pushed the hair from her face. “Shh, shh,” I consoled her. “No more slaps for now. Let’s just fuck.”

That evening, she went home with cane marks, bruised tits and an invitation to return soon.

I processed what I had learned about Eden on our first date. I wrote to ask that she tell me more about her desires and fantasies, instructing her to leave nothing out.

I also asked for daily photographs of her breasts, so I could monitor the progress of her bruises.

At our subsequent meetings, she started to understand that I had asked about her desires in order to guide our interactions. I wanted to be on target in giving her the pain she craved. I also wanted to allow her to submit, if that felt natural. We could take her time in realizing her fantasies, taking care to make a natural progression to each in turn.

She soon revealed her fondness for men’s feet.

In preparation for this date, I swept under my desk. I showered, scrubbing my feet and clipping my toenails. I put a blanket near my desk. I had reserved several hours for her.

She arrived precisely on time.

She undressed at the door, presenting herself to me fully nude. I pulled her to the couch to kiss.

“Eden, you are doing everything just right,” I commended, fingering her clit. “I’m very pleased with how things are going with us.”

“Me too,” she grinned.

“So today, I have a special treat. I have to work for a few hours. I’m going to allow you to spend that time under my desk.” I kissed her cheek. “Today, you’re my foot stool.”

She turned to look at the space under my desk.

“Okay,” she replied. Her voice had lost its affect.

“I am also allowing you this blanket,” I said, pointing to the carefully folded bundle. “Make yourself a little bed under there while I get a few things together.”

“Okay,” she replied. Her voice lifted slightly. “Hey, can I listen to my iPod? Or is that against instruction?”

I kissed her cheek. “Always ask questions if you don’t know. Of course, you may listen to music, pretty girl.”

When I returned, Eden was reclining on comfortable bedding under my desk. Her knees were bent so that her feet were propped against the desk’s side.

The basketball that usually resides under my desk was pushed to one side.

“Oh no, Eden, the basketball must also stay under the desk,” I said, kicking it her way as I sat in my chair. “You are joining the basketball, not replacing it.”

“Oh, my bad,” she said, tucking it under her knees. “Why do you keep it here, anyway?”

“Because I do not always have so pretty a foot stool,” I smiled, covering her face with my feet. I rubbed them gently, squeezing her cheeks together.

“Mmmmph,” she muttered.

“Are you happy?” I asked.

“Mmmmph mmm,” she nodded.

“Good girl. Now be quiet while I make a few phone calls.”

I took my time interviewing Jonathan. He was an impressive candidate for the position as my assistant.

I learned that if I wedged a knee against the underside of my desk, I gained leverage to press hard into Eden’s belly.

I called another candidate, again impressed with the quality of applications.

Eden began to masturbate. I kicked her hand away. I pushed a toe against her asshole, pressing in and out.

I began to type notes from my interviews.

Eden wriggled with arousal, sucking intently on my feet. I willed myself to ignore her.

I immersed myself in copy editing another text. I cut a few paragraphs, making it more concise. I read it over a few times and found I had cut too much, so that one key point was lost. I reinstated a few sentences, trimming the excess.

I noticed the time. I had been working for a little over two hours.

I sat back and looked under the desk. Eden was napping, a toe dangling from her lower lip. She looked very peaceful with her ear buds in place, her hair tucked behind her ears. She was turned on her side, her arms nestled against her chest. I rubbed a foot gently along the curve of her hip.

I smiled at the scene. She looked so sweet and innocent.

I kicked her leg, hard.

“Eden? Pretty Eden?” I prodded her stomach.

She twitched and woke with a start. Her eyes opened, confused.

“Eden?” I held out a hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you fucked.”

She looked around, remembering where she was. “Okay,” she nodded, taking my hand.


Anonymous said...

Oh, oh my... That was so hot, I held my breath reading it.

Anonymous said...

I like your feet, but I don't need them in my face.

Seems like she's a new slave-in-training.

Anonymous said...

Maybe you have already seen it, anyhow I enjoyed it like your blog http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39EEK9yaGz4