Monday, July 11, 2011

Liz's place.

Liz's place.

I had heard about Liz’s reputation from a few different people, that she was a total bitch on wheels, and to steer clear of any interaction with her. She was very attractive, with long curly black hair, pretty face, great legs, impeccably made up at all times, but supposedly thoroughly evil. So I’m not sure what came over me when I saw her in the elevator that day. I must have been feeling manly for a change. "Hi, I’m Scott." No response whatsoever. "Um, I was wondering if you might like to go out with me for a cup of coffee some night after work." She glared at me like I had just vomited in the elevator, staring at me in utter disgust. I wanted to melt into the floor. But then the gaze softened unexplainably, and she said, "Sure, how about tonight." We met at Starbuck’s. She was wearing a flowery short skirt, black blouse, and black high heel boots that clung gracefully to her pretty bare legs and feet(?). She was a vision, and I was blown away, almost unable to speak. We chatted for a little while. She seemed completely bored, practically ignoring everything I said, looking over her shoulder, and basically at anything but me. Then, she waved to the waiter for the check, and I was chalking another utter failure up on my mental chalkboard, but she said, "Let’s go back to my place." My jaw dropped. I paid the check, and we left. Liz’s place was a chic little house in the Hollywood hills, with a lot of glass and bright colors, very pleasant, art-deco and all. "Have a seat," she said as she walked into the kitchen. I sat down on the love seat. "What are you drinking?" she asked. "Ah, scotch and water, I guess." She came back in and gave me my drink, then sat down on the sofa, crossing her legs and sipping her drink. I did the same. "So, how long have you been working for WB?" she asked. So we did a little more small talk, and I was baffled by her behavior. I was nervous, and practically guzzled my drink down, and all the while there was a faint smirk on her face as she watched me. Liz put her glass down on the end table. "You know, you’re really a little shit, you know that?" she said. "What?" "You heard me. You’re a little worm. You really think in a million years you could get in my pants? You pathetic loser." "I don’t have to take this…?" "You’re my bitch, my little bitch. Fucking scumbag." She began to laugh raucously at me, as I was turning crimson with embarrassment. Then she stopped laughing. Then removed her boots. I saw white socks on her feet. I noticed a strong smell of her feet. "Lick my feet, boy." I just stared at her in disbelief. She pointed at the floor. "I’m not going to say it again. Get down there and lick and smell my feet, or you’re in for a long night." I got up to leave, but suddenly I was feeling extremely light-headed and weak, almost unable to stand. I took a few steps more and then stopped, wobbling, almost ready to fall over. Liz stood up behind me. I heard her steps, and she moved to stand in front of me. "The drug’s really kicking in now, isn’t it?" she said. "You stupid shit, I doctored your drink. Kneel." She slapped me across the face, and grabbed me by the hair, throwing me to the floor. I tried to defend myself, but it was like everything was in slow motion. As I got up to my hands and kneels shakily, she placed one graceful, high arched foot on the floor before me. "Last chance, lick it, now." Before I could move, she brought her foot back, and kicked me viciously in the ribs. I collapsed, wheezing for breath. She kicked me again, and then in the head. The force of her kicks was incredible for a woman her size, and I was soon writhing on the floor in agony. The kicks rained down on me The beating continued relentlessly. She stepped on my chest, then on my face and neck, driving her cruel heels down into me, even standing on my face with both feet at one point. Strong smell made me dizzy on my bruised nose. Then she broke out the whip, and ripped my shirt off of my back. "Now you’re going to feel pain," she said sadistically. The whipping commenced. She was very skillful with her chosen tool, and brought the lash down with a practiced stroke. I began to scream in agony. "That’s right, scream, no one can hear you up here." Again and again the whip cracked, and I tried to roll away to escape it, but found no sanctuary. Tears of pain rolled down my face, and I begged, "Please, please! I’ll do anything!" "That’s right boy, grovel, beg me for mercy," she taunted between strokes. She whipped me methodically for a few minutes more, then stopped, put the whip down, and walked back over to sit on the couch, crossing her legs as before. I sat on the floor crying. "Come," she said. Painfully I crawled across the floor to her, resting for a moment at her feet to catch my breath. I took her feet in my hands, and struggled to remove her socks around her ankle. She reached forward and slapped me across the face. "Faster, I don’t have all night." "Please, please, no more," I sobbed, and my shaking fingers finally succeeded. I slipped stinky elegant socks from her perfect, pedicured smelly feet. If I was going to be forced to lick anyone’s feet, it might as well be hers’. I pressed my tongue to Liz’s sweaty heel, and ran it along her curvaceous sole, lapping the ball of her foot, and then her toes in one long sweep. Salty taste in every part of my mouth and smelly air filled my lungs. Liz looked on indifferently, as if the conquest hadn’t been enough of a struggle, and was anticlimactic. I continued licking her foot slavishly. She strapped a dog collar and leash on to my neck, so that she could further control my actions. "Down by my heel," she said, and yanked my head down to service that area more, or "Between my toes. clean!" She was relishing controlling my every move, enjoying watching her painted toes bob up and down as my tongue brushed against them reverently. "You have been converted to a new religion tonight," she announced, as she switched feet, satisfied with the cleaning of the first one, recrossing her legs and pushing the new foot in my face. "That’s right, worship me, slave." When I was finished licking her feet, Liz threw me on the couch, turned me over on my back, and tied up my ankles and feet. Then, without a word, she went to her bedroom and turned all the lights off.


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