by Dahlia Schweitzer
(10/01/03)

I remember the first time I had let Rick have my feet.

We'd met at a party, and barely managed a decent conversation. He was a huge, hulking man, but seemed shy; I wasn't interested in him...at least until he stopped by my apartment a few days later. Not even then, really. Not at first.

"Hey, uh, it's Rick. I, uh, I met you at Tracy's party? I live over on 6th Street?"

"Yes, right."

"I just wondered if you needed anything."

I laughed. "No, but thank you."

"Please," he said, "But I'd like to do something. Do you have dry cleaning you need picked up? Laundry? I'm right around the corner, it really wouldn't be a problem."

"Rick. I've got no dry cleaning to be picked up, no laundry. I'm okay. Really."

We stared at each other in silence.

He looked at me imploringly. "Do you think I could rub your feet? I'd really love to do that for you."

There was a pause, a long pause, while I thought that one through. My first reaction was the normal one -- a bit of shock, a bit of outrage, a bit of revulsion, some kind of moral indignation -- but then I decided it wouldn't be so awful.

"I've got twenty dollars," he said. "I'll give you twenty dollars if you let me rub your feet."

I couldn't argue with that. Besides, I was starting to be amused.

"Okay, fine, okay...we can do it in the bedroom," I said, leading the way.

Rick situated himself on the floor, reverently taking my right foot in both his hands, and began to rub. Slowly, he caressed my arch, my ankle, my big toe, my heel, touching each part gently, deeply, stroking and caressing the skin. I let myself get lost in the sensation.

My shoulders and neck were just starting to relax, my body falling deeper into the softness of the bed, when all of a sudden I was jerked awake by my left leg slipping off the bed and abruptly touching something hot and hard. Something of Rick's, in his pants. My eyes flew open. My foot jerked back in shock; I knew what I'd just felt, and I wished desperately that I hadn't felt it, or at least that he hadn't noticed that I'd felt it.

His tongue and lips began to delicately explore my right foot. I tried not to think about what I'd just discovered. Rick slipped his hand around my ankle. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his grip tightened. His lips left my toes, and his tongue ran its way under the arch of my foot, then over, then across my ankle.

As his hand made its way to my knee, just grazing the bottom of my thigh, I could feel an ache start between my legs. My mind grew painfully aware both of the proximity of his fingers to my pussy and, paradoxically, of the seemingly infinite distance from one to the other. As long as his fingers weren't inside me, they were awfully far away. I willed them closer, but they lingered on my knee. Rick was apparently completely absorbed by the actions of his tongue around my toes.

Cautiously, I stretched out my foot, inch by inch, straining to determine, with my eyes closed and my head still flat on the bed, exactly where my foot was in relation to his crotch. A few seconds later, I hit the comforting muscular mass of his thigh. It didn't take long to snake my foot along his thigh, inch by inch, until I hit his hip. I ran my big toe along his hipbone and slipped my way over. When I reached the hot, denim-covered bulge of his cock, Rick stopped licking. He exhaled a quick, hot breath over my foot. Success!

I began gently rubbing his cock, and after less than a minute his hand rediscovered my knee. His fingers began making their way up my thigh. I wondered how long it would take him to reach the wetness that had been seeping between my legs, and what he'd do when he got there.

I didn't find out. His hand stopped about halfway up my thigh. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It was inconceivable, but his attentions were still focused on my foot. His fingers, mere inches from my pussy, were oblivious to it, his energies still directed at my toes, ankle, and heel. This was truly bizarre.

My thoughts were interrupted by Rick's pulling his head away from my foot. I lifted my head to look at him.

"Do you think," he said, "if I paid a little extra, I could see more?"

I just stared. I had no idea what he was talking about: I'd forgotten I was getting paid!

He thought I was holding out for the bigger bucks. "I'll give you another twenty."

"Another twenty to see what?"

"You know." He gestured at his shirt.

Feeling the mood, I sat up and slowly and seductively peeled off my top. Rick's eyes got bigger. I slid my foot back between his legs. The guy must've been in pain, he was pressing so hard against the seam of his pants.

"Why don't you unzip your pants?" I suggested.

He blinked at me.

"It's okay. Take ‘em off."

"You sure? Is that okay?"

"Rick. Take them off."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. He stood and fumbled with his zipper, hurrying before I could change my mind. As his boxers hit the floor it was my turn to stare. He was massive -- huge, engorged, sticking straight out with desire.

I smiled, stretching my foot back in his direction. That move was just as effective as if I'd barked orders -- Rick instantly knelt back down, grabbed my foot, and went back to work.

I couldn't resist. "Come up here, on the bed."

"Wmmm?" Rick looked up, startled, mouth still fastened around my big toe.

"Up here," I replied, patting the bed next to me.

Ever dutiful, Rick let go of my foot and came to sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

"No. Lie down with your head over there," I pointed at the far end of the bed. "And I'm going to lie down with my head over there." I pointed at the other end of the bed.

"Okay," he said, rearranging himself to my instructions.

"Good." I lay down and placed my foot in his hands. Beginning to understand, although clearly still baffled by his suddenly elevated status, Rick started to rub. Whatever kink he'd tried in the past, it had obviously never extended to this. I discovered I enjoyed making him uncomfortable.

I gave him a couple of minutes to adjust to his new position, until I was sure he'd become absorbed in his task again. Then I made my move.

"Don't stop," I told him. I ran my hand over his thigh to his hip. Every time Rick paused, so did I. As soon as he started again, so did I.

It didn't take long for me to get where I was going. This guy was hard! I could feel every vein along the skin, bulging, full of blood and heat and desire. I started stroking back and forth with my thumb, my other fingers just pressed against the skin. Again, every time Rick stopped, I did.

After a few minutes of rubbing -- by Rick -- and stroking -- by me, I began to move my whole hand, gently sliding the silky skin back and forth, slowly building pressure and speed. I was rewarded with a huge shudder.

"Keep rubbing," I told him. "If you stop, I stop."

You wouldn't think one girl's foot could be so interesting, but it was to Rick. Desperate to keep me moving, he licked and rubbed and stroked. Poor boy didn't stand a chance.

I felt the pressure of his hands decrease as the pressure of mine increased. It didn't take long for his hands to stop moving completely, his thighs clenching and all the blood in his body racing between his legs. I allowed him about thirty seconds, waiting until the desperate thrust of his hips indicated that I was moments away from losing him.

And then I stopped.

I kept my hand wrapped around his cock, but I wasn't moving anymore.

"Please, please," he moaned. "Don't stop."

"Don't tell me what to do," I snapped.

Suddenly aware of what he'd done, Rick began apologizing, but I cut him off -- that part didn't turn me on. "It's okay. This time."

"Do you want me to keep rubbing?"

"No. We're going to do something else. Stand up. We're going to the kitchen."

He leapt up and reached for his boxers.

"Leave those there. We're not done yet."

He was confused, and I knew this would be priceless. When we got to the kitchen, I pointed at my sink.

"See those dishes?"

He nodded.

"Wash ‘em. After you've washed them, we can go back to the bedroom."

Rick looked at me.

"Wash them," I ordered.

Rick scuttled to the sink, grabbed a sponge with one hand, a dirty plate with the other, and started scrubbing.

It was a beautiful sight. This massively muscular man was standing at my sink, washing my dishes, naked from the waist down, his huge, swollen cock jutting straight out.

Funny the things we don't know about ourselves until life helps us discover them. Until then my sex life had been pretty straightforward, but, wham! nothing -- nothing -- had ever turned me on as much as this afternoon. I could feel the ache, the wetness drenching my pussy, the electric tingle on my skin. I loved the feeling of control. I loved seeing the pathetic lust in his eyes, the subservient little expressions he kept making, his anxiousness to satisfy. I was in charge! I felt powerful, beautiful and sexy.

I waited until his erection started to recede, until its angle was more seventy degrees than a perfect ninety, and then I walked over to the sink.

"Don't stop," I told him as I wrapped my fingers around his cock. "And don't you dare break a dish."

Standing right next to the poor boy as he tried to keep control of the plates in the hot, soapy water, I began to rub. Faster, harder. It wasn't long until he was back at ninety degrees.

He moaned as the sponge disappeared into the dishwater, one hand gripping the faucet, the other the edge of the sink. There were still two plates left in the sink.

"Rick. You're not done yet."

With a deep sigh, Rick released his grip on the edge of the sink and grabbed one of the plates. I started rubbing again.

The last plate slipped neatly into the drying rack. Rick was moving with incredible, trembling precision, desperate not to break anything. I could see telltale droplets of pre-cum dangling from his cock. Perfect timing.

I let go. "Good job. Thanks for doing the dishes."

Rick panted, wringing the towel dry as though his life depended on it.

I gave him a second. "You can put the towel down."

I turned and walked into the bedroom, Rick at my heels.

Within moments, we were right back where we'd been -- his tongue on my ankle, his fingers on my heel, my hand around his cock. I rubbed, gently at first, then with increasing pressure. His tongue ran over my foot, around my toe, up my arch and across my ankle. I leaned over just enough to send my tongue gently skipping across Rick's balls. He gave a huge sigh, slacking his hold on my foot ever so slightly -- but before I could take my mouth away from his dick, he sensed my disapproval and grabbed hold again. We were back on track.

I tormented him, picking up the pace just long enough for his hips to mimic my movements, then switching to slow and deep. I kept him on the edge of orgasm, never doing anything long enough to let him get there. I didn't care about the foot rub anymore. What turned me on was his struggle to keep focused as I coaxed him to higher and higher peaks of arousal and need.

The next time I had him on the edge, I stopped.

"Hey, Rick?"

"Wha -- huh?" He panted, fumbling as he tried to sit, the blood rushing back to his head.

I pushed him back down onto the bed. "You don't have to move. I want to tell you something, a new idea."

He was open-mouthed.

"Before you finish -- and you will -- you've got to ask permission."

"Uh, uh...okay."

"Not a big deal, you know? When you feel you're about to come, just say, ‘Mistress, may I come?' And then, if I tell you it's okay, you can go ahead, and if I say no, then, well, you can't." I paused. "Got that?"

There was a silence as his brain processed the information. "Will you really let me finish?"

"I will."

"Oh, that'd be great." The relief and gratitude in his voice was obvious. "Thank you so much." His hands clutched mine gratefully.

I shook myself free. "You don't have to thank me -- just ask permission."

I resumed my rubbing. This time I focused on getting him to finish -- or at least getting him to the point of having to ask my permission. I kept my motion quick and shallow, and it didn't take long.

"Mistre -- Mistre – Oh, I think -- I'm about -- I'm, uh, oh God. Mistress, I'm about to come --"

Curt and businesslike, I said, "Sorry, Rick. Not time yet." I released his cock.

"God," he said, shuddering, grabbing for my hands. I kept out of reach. "Is there something I can do for you? Please. What? Please, Mistress, what can I do?"

I thought. I honestly didn't want this to go on all day, as fun as it was. "Just keep rubbing," I told him, as I gently started up again.

This time I let him get hard and full...and I didn't let up. I didn't slow. I didn't change my pace, constant and precise. Before long, we were back at the edge again.

"Mistre -- Mistress, oh God, please, I'm about, oh, can I, oh -- "

I stopped but kept my hand gripped. "Sorry Rick, what were you saying?"

He took a deep breath. "Mistress, please, I'm about to come. Please, Mistress, please let me finish." A puppy dog, begging.

Ever obliging, I said, "Sure, Rick, you can come."

I built him to an impeccable climax. In thirty seconds, Rick's entire body tensed, his hot breath on my foot stopped, everything went silent...and then, with a huge heaving moan, the come shot out of his cock and over his stomach. It was a beautiful moment. I let go and smiled.

"Don't forget to leave your forty dollars," I said, jolting him out of his post-orgasmic daze.

"Of course, of course," he stammered, pulling the bills out of his wallet, pulling his clothes on.

I lay on the bed, watching him dress. When he was ready, we stared at each other for a moment.

"Here, mistress," he murmured meekly, handing me two twenty dollar bills.

I took them as I got up off the bed. "Thank you."

I shoved him against the wall, my lips inches from his lips, my hands on his chest. I spoke slowly, so he'd be sure to understand. "No one finds out what happened here today. No one. Ever. But if you keep your mouth shut, like the good boy I know you are, come back tomorrow at three. Got that?"

He nodded, and I walked him into the living room.

I opened the front door. It felt like I was opening it on a whole new world.

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