Aramis
12-15-2003, 1:31 PM
Met at the Gym
I was at the gym where I work out a few times a week. I’d finished my workout and had completed my post-workout stretching. Man, it was odd not being 25 anymore and having to stretch after hard physical activity!
I was in a little stretching room just off the main hallway, not far from anything. As I was done, but tired, I laid back on the carpeted floor, facing the ceiling, and closed my eyes. No one was in there.
Then I felt something on my chest. It pressed down. I opened my eyes and looked up. There, standing above me with a devilish grin on her face, was a beautiful woman. Her tennis-shoed foot was on my chest, and showed no signs of moving once I “woke up.” She looked down at me and smiled. She looked to be Assyrian; a darker skin tone, with sharp and attractive facial features, and sexy as all get out.
“You looked so inviting, laying here, I could not resist,” she said.
I was dumbfounded, and turned on. I said nothing at first.
“Don’t you want me to get off of you?” she asked. “Or maybe you’re the first man I’ve met who actually knows his place is beneath a woman’s feet?” She kept smiling, and her foot pressed harder on my chest.
“I … I . … You honor me with your attention,” I stammered.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” she agreed, shaking her long brown curly locks. “So that means you should thank me. How do you think you should thank me?”
“Uh . . . by letting you stand on me all the way?” I guessed.
“That’s good!” she replied. “I’ll do that right now.” And without missing a beat she stood up on me and I gasped.
It hurt. I’ve never been tramped before, though I have long dreamt of being a woman’s foot slave. The reality is far different from the fantasy! She gathered I was in pain, or at least discomfort.
“Come now,” she said, “Don’t tell me you think I’m fat?”
“Oh no,” I said.
“Then that means you must be weak and out of shape. If you like being under my feet, we’ll have to change that. Don’t you agree?”
I was silent. She bounced on my chest and moved a half step back onto my abdomen. She bounced again. Ooooooh! She looked right into my eyes and repeated, “Don’t you agree? Boy?”
“Yes!” I blurted with a gasp. And without premeditation, I added, “Thank you!”
“I want you to thank me another way,” she announced. She balanced herself by placing one of her hands against the wall right next to us, and then lifted one of her shoes off of my body and dangled it above my face.
“Would you like to kiss me?” she asked. Her white athletic shoe wiggled above me.
“Yes,” I answered, rather plainly.
“Then kiss my shoe, and don’t stop until I give you permission . . . boy!”
I raised my neck and shoulders up to touch my lips to her sole. That really was hard! Her other foot still stood rock steady on my gut and pressed into my intestines rather convincingly as I craned upward to thank her.
I began to kiss the dry, somewhat dirty, sole of her tennis shoe.
“Good boy!” she praised, as if I were a dog or schoolboy.
I heard someone else come in.
Another voice. “What’s going on?”
“I’m taking one of your members,” she answered. “He lets me walk on him and is thanking me for the privilege by kissing my foot.”
“Well, just keep it in here.” The footsteps walked out.
She looked down at me with a smile, a smile I could barely see. “No one here will defend you, boy,” she said. “Even the staff here doesn’t care if I enslave you. Now the other one!” She switched feet and in a moment I was kissing the bottom of her other foot.
“I like how you follow orders,” she said. “All I had to do was step on you, and you were mine. You’d probably kiss my feet if they were bare and lick them clean, wouldn’t you, boy? You’d probably let me walk on you in high heels or boots, too. Maybe you’re a wimp. But you don’t look like one. At any rate, you’ll have to prove yourself to me. Wanna do that? Wanna find out more about me and my strange ways?”
I paused. High heels? Bare feet licking?
“Yes,” I replied. “You were right. I am yours. Do with me as you wish.”
She laughed. “You sound like a movie. But tough crap. You get your wish; I WILL do with you as I wish! But for now, we’re done.”
She got off of me as quickly as she had mounted me.
I looked at her as I heard her step away towards the doorway.
“Boy, same time, next week. And this is an order: don’t jack off. I’ll know.”
Then she was gone.
I was at the gym where I work out a few times a week. I’d finished my workout and had completed my post-workout stretching. Man, it was odd not being 25 anymore and having to stretch after hard physical activity!
I was in a little stretching room just off the main hallway, not far from anything. As I was done, but tired, I laid back on the carpeted floor, facing the ceiling, and closed my eyes. No one was in there.
Then I felt something on my chest. It pressed down. I opened my eyes and looked up. There, standing above me with a devilish grin on her face, was a beautiful woman. Her tennis-shoed foot was on my chest, and showed no signs of moving once I “woke up.” She looked down at me and smiled. She looked to be Assyrian; a darker skin tone, with sharp and attractive facial features, and sexy as all get out.
“You looked so inviting, laying here, I could not resist,” she said.
I was dumbfounded, and turned on. I said nothing at first.
“Don’t you want me to get off of you?” she asked. “Or maybe you’re the first man I’ve met who actually knows his place is beneath a woman’s feet?” She kept smiling, and her foot pressed harder on my chest.
“I … I . … You honor me with your attention,” I stammered.
“Yes, I suppose I do,” she agreed, shaking her long brown curly locks. “So that means you should thank me. How do you think you should thank me?”
“Uh . . . by letting you stand on me all the way?” I guessed.
“That’s good!” she replied. “I’ll do that right now.” And without missing a beat she stood up on me and I gasped.
It hurt. I’ve never been tramped before, though I have long dreamt of being a woman’s foot slave. The reality is far different from the fantasy! She gathered I was in pain, or at least discomfort.
“Come now,” she said, “Don’t tell me you think I’m fat?”
“Oh no,” I said.
“Then that means you must be weak and out of shape. If you like being under my feet, we’ll have to change that. Don’t you agree?”
I was silent. She bounced on my chest and moved a half step back onto my abdomen. She bounced again. Ooooooh! She looked right into my eyes and repeated, “Don’t you agree? Boy?”
“Yes!” I blurted with a gasp. And without premeditation, I added, “Thank you!”
“I want you to thank me another way,” she announced. She balanced herself by placing one of her hands against the wall right next to us, and then lifted one of her shoes off of my body and dangled it above my face.
“Would you like to kiss me?” she asked. Her white athletic shoe wiggled above me.
“Yes,” I answered, rather plainly.
“Then kiss my shoe, and don’t stop until I give you permission . . . boy!”
I raised my neck and shoulders up to touch my lips to her sole. That really was hard! Her other foot still stood rock steady on my gut and pressed into my intestines rather convincingly as I craned upward to thank her.
I began to kiss the dry, somewhat dirty, sole of her tennis shoe.
“Good boy!” she praised, as if I were a dog or schoolboy.
I heard someone else come in.
Another voice. “What’s going on?”
“I’m taking one of your members,” she answered. “He lets me walk on him and is thanking me for the privilege by kissing my foot.”
“Well, just keep it in here.” The footsteps walked out.
She looked down at me with a smile, a smile I could barely see. “No one here will defend you, boy,” she said. “Even the staff here doesn’t care if I enslave you. Now the other one!” She switched feet and in a moment I was kissing the bottom of her other foot.
“I like how you follow orders,” she said. “All I had to do was step on you, and you were mine. You’d probably kiss my feet if they were bare and lick them clean, wouldn’t you, boy? You’d probably let me walk on you in high heels or boots, too. Maybe you’re a wimp. But you don’t look like one. At any rate, you’ll have to prove yourself to me. Wanna do that? Wanna find out more about me and my strange ways?”
I paused. High heels? Bare feet licking?
“Yes,” I replied. “You were right. I am yours. Do with me as you wish.”
She laughed. “You sound like a movie. But tough crap. You get your wish; I WILL do with you as I wish! But for now, we’re done.”
She got off of me as quickly as she had mounted me.
I looked at her as I heard her step away towards the doorway.
“Boy, same time, next week. And this is an order: don’t jack off. I’ll know.”
Then she was gone.