Female Led Relationships

By Mukim

As a single guy of 22 back in the late sixties I had a femdom experience I shall never forget. My planned summer holiday day to Spain with Jack my best friend fell through at the last minute and I could not even get a refund. I was noaning to a girl called Claire who worked in the Office next door. She has fallen out with her boyfriend a her holiday plans too were ruined. She explained she was going to stay in a Caravan in Devon but she was now without a car. She was a very striking slim brunnete and had an assertive manner. She asked me if I drove and had a car. I said yes, and then she suggested we holidayed together in Devon. I could hardly believe my luck. We talked of our plans in more detail in her flat and she said she felt safe with me, it seemed all the girls thought I was polite and cute and would be their ideal brother figure. She explained further that she wanted my company, she liked me very much but did not fancy me in any way and made me promise I would be a gentleman and treat her with respect for the two weeks we would be together in a small two bedroomed caravan. I agreed although I sighed inwardly thinking how drop dead gorgeous she was. Then to by acute embrassement she told me I must promise not to masturbate during our two week period together because such behaviour freaked her out. I turned bright red with embrassment saying I had no intention of doing so. Inside my pants my six inch cock was beginning to stir and with her talk of masturbation it grew hard and my balls ached. I prayed she would not notice. When the holiday came we were blessed with good weather. There was a beach near the caravan and we went there everyday. She wore a tight bikini, she had two, one blue, one red. We played with a beach ball on the sand like kids, she was great fun. If we walked into the local village she would hold my hand and I would buy a paper as quickly as possible to hard my constant erections which pushed against the fabric of my shorts. Those walks were wonderful and after the third day she seemed to grow more and more affectionate giving me light kisses and light spanks to my bottom to guide me into a shop of her choice. It was the best holiday of my life apart from the increasing sexual frustration. At night with Claire sleeping next door I just held my cock which again was huge and aching. I felt so miserable there was no relief. we were there for two weeks, on the Monday of the second week it got so bad on the beach watching in her micro bikini that I swan out a long way and at last the cold sea water shrunk my cock. On my way back she ran to me and wrapped her arms around me, ‘you were gone such a long time David I was getting worried.’ She kissed me affectionately and I kissed her back holding her slim body gently in my arms. She felt so good and my erection was back worse than ever I was beginning to think the beast felt would burst through my trunks. That night in the Caravan she cooked me a light supper and poured me a glass of red wine, it was still warm and she wore a dressing gown tied tightly around her waist with nothing underneath. I wore some shorts and had postioned a paperback over my lap to hide yet another painfull erection. She sat down beside me and placed her gentle hand on my kneee, I nearly came there and then. ‘You have been very good.’ she said but I can see your are suffering looking at my lap with a cheeky grin on her face. I laughed trying to make a joke of my embrassment, inwardly I wanted to cry. ‘Why don’t you take it out and stroke it for me and I will watch.’ ‘No, I thought you were freaked out about masturbation.’ I replied. She then told me it was ok because I had her permission, it is the men who creep away and do it that are the pervs she told me. I still resisted, I was a nice middle class boy, a virgin and masturbation was still a very taboo subject back them. ‘Come on David, no need to be shy.’ then she undid her dressing gown reavealing her beautiful small but firm breasts. I gasped, then pulled down my trunks and started to pump furiuosly. ‘No no. not like an animal David , nice and slowly for me and don’t cum.’ I wanked slowly for her my balls were aching. ‘Please,’ I was begging now it was so humliating. ‘I don’t think it would be very polite to pruduce that horrible white sticky stuff in front of a lady, when you think you are about to come, stop, calm down and then we will start again.’ I could not believe my ears and after ten minuets of stop and start I placed my head down on her naked thighs and sobbed with frustration. She kissed me gently and then pulling her dressing gown around her got up went to the small fridge and brought over a mug of ice cubes. She place them around my huge cock, I nearly came again put then my erection calmed down until my cock lay soft between my thighs. ‘There, there,’ she said, ‘you see David you didn’t really need to do that horrible messy business, if you are a good boy I will let you play with it tomorrow, but remember no messy squirting.’

When I go to visit my mistress and lover, I have some anticipation of what shoes or boots she might be wearing, but am usually surprised at what is on her feet, as I think she likes to not do the obvious. In this way, I have slowly been transformed from a rather traditional black high heeled boot type of fetishist, to one oriented to the eroticisation of what my mistress chooses to wear.

Her tastes run from flowery espadrille wedges, to colorful, dirty sneakers, to pink patent, pointy toed flats, to brown suede ankle boots with a side zip and kitten heel, to purple pull on over the knee platform boots, thick, strappy, high heeled sandals, and yes, the traditional fetish garb of black leather boots with heels of varying character and height… sinister to playful.

As I press the doorbell on her apartment, I wait to hear her steps towards the door to buzz me in, over the street noise, and try to visualize what shoes are making that tapping sound on the bare wood floor… soft or hard, sandals, wedges, boots? I can usually tell a high heel from a wedge, but never the exact shoe itself.

She regularly ‘introduces’ me to her shoes as part of our play, telling me where she got them, pointing out their qualities that she likes, and dislikes, posing her feet all the while. Shoes that I am ‘introduced’ to require not only that she orgasm while wearing them, but the foreplay usually involves me sitting or kneeling on the floor before her while I fondle, and caress her shod feet, while we discuss their virtues, and then begin to kiss, lick, and generally savor the sense of losing myself into the thrilling lust of total fetish worship of my mistresses attire, while she runs her hands through my hair, gently pressing me against the objects of my desire. In short, whatever is on her feet is my passion, to place my mouth on, to wet with my tongue, to taste, to lick clean, to smell, to kiss, and to have her watch me in this act of humbling, intimate, worship.

My fetishistic boundaries have been truly stretched by this shift from my personal fantasies to serving the desires of an erotically powerful woman with a playful sense of footwear. Some of her shoes have a rubbery scent and taste, others are more leathery, and some are in between, with my mistresses own salty essence as a part of it.

Regardless, great joy is experienced when my tongue is sliding across her straps, soles, soft leather, slippery patent, wedges, high heels, places where her feet have moistened, soiled, and stained through the wearing.

I lose myself in the act, and savor the most subtle and intimate flavors and scents of her feet and shoes.

She sometimes triggers my orgasm through the position of her footwear, and the proximity to my mouth and nose, bringing me to rapid ejaculation by rubbing her footwear against my face when she wishes me to orgasm, and keeping them away when she wants to me to keep up a steady rhythm for her own pleasure.

We have over the years evolved a true symbiotic relationship of sorts, where she’s trained me to please her in many ways, with my mouth, my hands, and more traditional means, and because of her own interest in shoes, and my utter, fetishistic, devotion to women’s footwear, we each are fulfilled. She knows that I have an overwhelming desire to lick and smell her shoes and feet, and has made the most of it.

As the journey has progressed I’ve come to realize that the act of pleasuring my mistress is the greatest reward. I used to consider myself exclusively a boot, shoe, and foot slave, but I have very much become a pussyslave, and am unbelievably aroused by the taste and smell of her.

But that is straying off topic, and I must end this note.

I sat in the chair in my dungeon I call my throne. High back, black crushed velvet on the seat and back, intimidating. I sit and look at my victim. At least, I’m thinking of him in that way right now.

Tied, tightly, bent over a bondage table.

Naked, feet tied apart, arms bound in front of him, blindfolded, and gagged. I like what I am seeing. He’s breathing heavily.

I’ve played hard with him. I haven’t used everything in my dungeon. Well, maybe one of almost everything.

I’ve been in a mood. It’s my sadistic mood. It’s not satisfied yet.

Last thing I did was spanking. The position demanded it. First the leather paddle I like the best, about 12 inches long, 4 inches wide. It’s been so well used that the metal in the center bends slightly, and I have to keep turning it over to balance out the lean. I use it over and over. His cheeks turn slighly red.

Then the wooden paddle that’s also a favorite. Almost the same size, but walnut. Hand made, by someone who wanted it used on them. I was happy to oblige. It reminds me of a school paddle.

The leather was a warm up. The wood is demanding, hard to take. I demand a lot.

Red cheeks. Beet red. He shudders when I take one finger and run the fingernail across the tortured flesh. Then my palm against his flesh. I can feel the warmth. I smile.

I want more. I start again. I take my time. One cheek, then the other, then back again. I give him time to handle each blow. I watch his reactions to see when he’s ready for another. I wait a little too long, or hit a little too quickly. I don’t want him to anticipate the blow.

I am building to a peak. I stop, and put down the paddle. I move behind him, putting my body up against his red ass. I grab his hips with my hands. He whimpers. He’s at my mercy. There is no way he can escape my bondage. Not that he wants to.

I picture him bound to the bench, scooting it down the street, trying to escape. Of course, he’d not make it out the door. I laugh.

I lean down so that he can feel my body against his back, my torso against his butt. I grab his hair and pull back. I want him to feel my power. I want him to feel vulnerable. He does. I take my time releasing his hair.

Then I step back. His whimper says he wants me back. But I’m not ready to give him what he wants. Not yet.

I take my hand and rub his cheeks. I use my nails, softly, rubbing up and down and across. Then my palm, slowly, lingering. He moans in his gag.

The first slap startles him and he jumps. I begin my assault on his already sore, already tortured ass. I’ve just been getting him ready for this. It doesn’t hurt my palm at first to hit him. I keep at it until my palm begins to sting.

I want to quit. It hurts me. But I don’t want to quit. It’s hurting him. I push through the pain. It hurts. It feels good. I keep at it. I listen to each blow fall. The sound is either good, or not. I like it when it sounds good. I’m hitting him hard.

He’s moaning now, and I know that I am pushing him. He’s close to the edge. I don’t stop. I slow down and keep him there. He’s at the wall. I stop, finally. The tension in his body eases.

Then I begin to touch him again. His ass cheeks, then slip my hand between his legs. His cock is hard. I squeeze his balls. I move my hand up and down on his cock. He likes this. I stop.

This was when I sat down in my chair, thinking about what comes next. I am in a high state of energy. He’s waiting. He’s deep in sub space. I own him. I can do anything to him, anything. He can’t stop me.

I reach down and pick up the leather harness and strap it on, seeing that it’s positioned the way I want. I open the condom package, and slide it on, I take the KY, and grease up my cock, then wipe off my hands.

I stand up and get behind him. He can feel the coldness as I position the dildo in just the right place. He’s already moaning softly. He loves it. He hates it. I ease it in, slowly, allowing his muscles to relax, taking my time. I’m in no hurry.

I find the right depth. Then begin to move my hips. I can feel it. I can feel my cock, sensations beginning in my sex. It’s not just a thing I’ve strapped on. It’s a part of me. I have a cock. It works. It makes me hot.

I move in and out, finding a rhythym. The feelings increase. I’m moaning. He’s moaning. I’m panting. My movements increase. My orgasm is getting close. My movements get faster. I can feel it building.

The spasms begin. I’m over the edge. I’m taking him with me, taking him to his own orgasm.

Finally, I stop. I pull out of him, take off the leather harness, and sit down in my chair. I need a few minutes, to sit and feel. My body feels good.

I leave him bound, blindfolded, and gagged. He’s waiting.

He doesn’t hear me step behind him. My hand closes on his hard cock, my hard cock. I own it. I own him. He moans again, as I rub my hand up and down, moving just past the blood engorged head of his cock – my cock. I’m not through yet.

I have a T-shirt with the saying “It’s been so long since I’ve had sex, I can’t remember who ties who” and have worn it to the aerobics club on a couple of occasions with no more than a grin or so in reaction from others. Finally a woman took notice in a more than casual way. The class had been a good workout and we were both drenched in sweat afterwards, when she came over to where I was standing. She was pretty good looking, sort of tall with dark brown hair and a slim build. Her eyes were dark and she was dressed in a black workout suit. She told me she was watching during the class and thought I was doing pretty good for a guy. I told her I tried to do my best and enjoyed following a woman’s lead. With that she looked at me a bit closer and asked if I would like to learn the answer to my T-shirt’s question. I got flustered as usual, and my dick got hard and I spluttered a yes. She then told me to meet her at the counter in thirty minutes and be ready to go.

I made it through the shower in record time (and finally “relaxed” a bit) and timed it so I would be at the counter in exactly thirty minutes. She was standing there in jeans and denim shirt with black boots pulled over the pant legs. A wide belt was thrust through her jeans and a bold, almost masculine chain bracelet was on one wrist. She took one glance at me, handed me her bag, and told me to follow behind her. A couple of guys looked at me a bit strange as I followed meekly behind, but I paid them no mind.

She never glanced back as she strode to her truck, a black Jeep pickup. I placed the bags in the back and climbed in. As we sat in the truck, she reached in the glove compartment and pulled out cuffs and a blindfold. She asked if I had any second thoughts. I did but said, “No mam.” With that, she put the blindfold around my eyes and cuffed my wrists behind my back. Snugging the seat belt in place, she took off, saying nothing more. As common sense reared its head, I began to get a bit worried, but decided, what the hell, you only live once. After a not too long drive, she stopped the truck. She finally talked to me again. She said her name was Julie and since I followed her, I must know what I was getting into. I was to call her Mistress and her thing was bondage, tight and complex. If at any time I wanted out, she gave me a code to use. She also said that if I used it, she and I were done, period. She asked once more if I was willing, and with rational thoughts buried far behind, I said, “Yes Mistress”.

She unzipped my pants and pulling my cock and balls out, tied on a leash. She loosened the seat belt and pulled me out and up a short flight of stairs. I made really sure I wouldn’t stumble and hoped no one was watching, having no idea where I was. I heard a door open and soon felt myself on a hard floor. I guessed we had entered her home. With that, she tied my leash off to something high and told me not to go away. I could hear her walk off as I tried to keep my balance. I was tied just enough were I had to keep up on my toes a little to keep from pulling on my balls. It seemed like a long time until I heard her (was it her?) return.

My shoes and pants were pulled off and my underpants were cut off. I could feel the cold of the knife against my thighs as she sliced the cloth. My shirt followed, after the cuffs were rearranged to clear the sleeves. I was now securely bound, by a strange woman, in an unknown location, with no clothes on. The fear of the unknown was a strong counterpart to the raging lust I now felt. In the back of my mind, the thought that I had really fucked up kept trying to storm forward and overwhelm me.

Mistress Julie finally took the blindfold off and I blinked around trying to see clearly. I was in a sparsely furnished room, with piles of ropes and straps strewn about over dark, faintly sinister looking shapes in the back corners. I could see stocks and crosses and other equipment looming behind her. The Mistress was dressed in black. A black leather bra and panties along with black nylons held up by a black garter belt. A medium sized black collar was around her neck and one hand held a short black crop. Calf high black boots completed the ensemble. She was sipping from a glass of red wine and slowly walked around me, not saying a word.

She began to gather items scattered around the room and bring them to me. The first was a high leather collar. The bottom was cut so it fit over my shoulders. It was high enough so that I had to keep my chin up and had very little movement to my head. There were assorted rings hanging from it and three straps which she proceeded to tighten. It was snug to the point that I knew it was on, yet I could still breath with no problem. Next came thick cuffs that strapped around my ankles. She took a short piece of chain and locked them together. Another clip held the chain to a buried ring in the floor. So far, all the straps had small padlocks locked on. I wasn’t going anywhere until she decided I was.

She rummaged around in a pile of leather until she came up with a collection of narrow straps and rings. She untied the leash from my balls and proceeded to strap the contraption around my cock and balls. Whatever reservations I had mentally were contradicted by the raging hardon I had. She pulled each strap tight enough to jerk my balls around quite a bit. She told me she enjoyed making sure a cock and balls weren’t going anywhere and that this was a sample of what was to come. She looked at me as if wondering if I would want to quit. As I shook my head, she nodded and stuffed a handful of nylon hose into my mouth.

She hooked the leash to the harness that now entwined itself around my cock and balls and unclipping the leg chain from the floor, pulled me over to the cross mounted on the wall. As she backed me to it, she unlocked the cuffs and pulling each wrist high, strapped them to the arms of the cross. As that was done, she next pulled each ankle out and clipped them to the bottom of the cross. With my legs spread, my arms stretched out and there was no slack to the bonds. My cock harness was tied down as well to the bottom of the cross, not unbearable, but tight enough to be uncomfortable. With the high collar, I could only look forward and could barely move anything else. She moved back and looked over her work. “Forgot something”, she murmured, and snapped two silver clips with small weights to my nipples. She reached in back of the cross and it started to lean forward. Before long, all I could see was a small patch of floor in front of me.

The next thing I could see was the Mistress tossing several cushions down in the spot my eyes looked at. Before long, she joined them with another glass of wine and a slender dildo in her hand. She told me she enjoyed seeing a man helpless and really had no interest in having sex with him. She was bi, with minimal male needs and was mostly interested in lesbian sex. If I was real nice, I might be able to watch her with another woman in the future. As for now, I would have to be content with watching her with herself. With that, she pulled her panties off and turned on and inserted the dildo.

While one hand slowly kneaded and pulled at her nipples, the other slowly moved the dildo in and out of her glistening cunt. Her tongue would poke out and wind around her lips like something alive. Occasional moans would escape as sweat started to build up on her body. Her breasts were small but the nipples grew larger and larger as she fondled and felt them. She had her long legs widely spread as she pushed the dildo in deeper and faster. She started to thrust and rotate her hips forward to meet the dildo as she speeded things up. Every thing accelerated as she moved closer and closer to climax. Finally she arched herself up off the cushions to meet the dildo and gave a deep and low animal groan. She fell back and tried to catch her breath, and slowly get back to normal.

I was fighting my bonds as well as I could, which was not much. The only thing I could do was get the leather cuffs to squeak a bit as I fought against them. There was enough movement to get the nipple clamps to jiggle a bit and also allow me to pull against the cock harness. My nipples were sore from the incessant grip of the clamp. My arms and legs burned from being outstretched on the cross and my cock was pulsing from battling its bonds. My mouth was filled with the unique taste of nylon hose and my nose was filled with the smells of sweat and leather. And struggle though I might, I couldn’t begin to get loose. I was so turned on, that I came dry, right there, without being touched.

I was kept there throughout the night and tied and retied in many ways. Except to change a harness or snap on a clamp, Mistress Julie never touched my cock. One time she hung me by my ankles and made me masturbate and another time strapped me down with a vibrator tied to my cock and balls until I came. By morning, I was sore and very, but pleasantly exhausted. I was finally untied, except for cuffs and told to dress. I was once again blindfolded and led out to the car. This time the blindfold was a pair of opaque wraparound sunglasses. I was driven back to the health club where my car was and released. Mistress Julie told me I might see her again. With that parting remark, I dazedly entered my car and went home.

My mistress/lover has many different shoes and boots that I am privileged to lick and smell as a reward and enticement. Often completely naked in her presence, she places her boots on me, prodding my cock, rubbing them against me, and then raises them to my face to smell and lick, sometimes pointing to the soles to show me she’s worn them outside frequently. I lick her footwear all over with complete passion and abandon regardless of their condition, often savoring the more soiled portions of her leather.

When we meet at the end of the day for drinks she’ll usually have a very worn sexy pair of boots or shoes on that she’s worn while we’ve made love in the past. She’ll tease me by telling me that she’s been wearing them all day, and show me how worn they are from the use they get. We then adjourn to her car where I lick her boots clean, remove them and smell their erotic perfume, then lick and massage her feet.

In her home I am often kneeling and naked, while she gently pushes my head against her shoes and feet as I lick and smell her leather and sweat. When she returns from a trip, she often shows me her dirtiest pair of shoes, pointing out the toe stains as she removes them from her feet. I then lovingly lick the dirtiest parts of her footwear as she watches. Several times she has taken me into restaurant bathrooms and had me kneel and lick her shoes and feet while she urinates. I am then allowed to lick her clean and bring her to orgasm.

My mistress/lover is not at all cruel but incredibly powerful and sensuous in using her boots, shoes, and feet to thoroughly captivate, tease, arouse, and enslave me.

She once met me for drinks after she had driven all the way from L.A to San Francisco on a hot day wearing a pair of soiled pink rubber beach sandals. We adjourned to her car and I spent over a half hour sucking and licking her black, dirty feet to a pink color, as she rubbed them all over my face, and forced them deep into my mouth, slowly and deliberately, while smiling sweetly.

They smelled and tasted of salty rubber, and my throat was coated with her foot grime yet I was in a sort of ecstasy that only a true fetishist/slave can achieve. I completely worship my mistresses body and footwear. Erotic enslavement is a wonderfully intoxicating experience for me.