He didn’t hear from Janelle again until the next Friday afternoon. She rang him on his mobile and proposed they go out for dinner that night. “I’m dying for a steak. And if I’m in the mood later on, I might try some of your tube-steak.” She said this as casually as she could, but in truth she hungered for it. Not for his willy as such, no – she’d encountered bigger ones before, and ones better deployed. To her, his prick was merely a useful accessory after the fact. An accessory to her main indulgence, namely his dispatch on a quest of suitable challenge and difficulty to his ego. They met at the steakhouse she’d nominated. He was already waiting outside, and pecked her chastely on the cheek in greeting. She liked men who made sure they always got to a rendezvous before she did. At a corner table, he managed to remember what had been bugging him all week. “Can you give me some contact details?” “Why?” “I missed you. I’d like to be able to call you up.” She thought about it, as if this was a situation she hadn’t really considered up ‘til now. “Okay, you can buy me a mobile then.” “Doesn’t your apartment have a ‘phone?” “No” she lied. No way did she want Auntie N. picking up her incoming calls. “We’ll go shopping for one after this.” “Okay then.” The waitress appeared, a pretty young college kid who proceeded to reel off the “Tonite’s Specials” as if a tape recording had just been switched on in her head. Doug regarded Janelle as she placed her order. She looked nice tonight. Correction, she looked nice all the time. But especially nice tonight. Her dark complexion glowed in the candlelight, the curve of her cheek in profile looked especially well-sculptured, and her boobs welled up enticingly at the scooped neckline of her black-and-gold dress. With the waitress gone and her attention free again, Janelle woke up to the fact that she was the subject of his scrutiny. “What the fuck you lookin’ at?” she demanded in mock aggression. “That’s a very endearing response to my admiring glances, my poppet!” “Admire this!” So saying, she inserted an index finger between her full lips and made a mini-drama out of sucking it like a cock. “Another thing I love about you - the way I can just take you anywhere!” She grinned wickedly. “Stop complainin’ - I know you love it. Probably got a hard-on already!” He felt her bare foot brush up between his thighs under the table and firmly nudge his crotch. Sure enough, it encountered a half-fat. Her point proven, she withdrew her foot and slipped it back in her shoe just in time for salads and garlic bread to arrive. “You can save me that throbbin’ knob for later” she murmured, ripping off a chunk of the bread. She threw him a melting look, which contrary-wise he found to be more stiffening than melting. There was another topic that had been bothering him. “How’d you manage to fall out with your folks?” A pause while she thought about whether, and how, to answer. “I was unmanageable, period. They got sick of it, and booted me out.” Silence for a while, until their steaks arrived. She attacked hers with zeal. “Got sick of what, exactly?” he persisted. “Me doing drugs” she mumbled while chewing. “Being zonked all the time, and stealing anything that wasn’t nailed down.“ “Oh dear.” “Oh dear is right. I was a mess.” “So where’d you go after that?” “I went’n stayed in a sleazy apartment with a bunch of guys.” “How’d that work out?” He was really having to worm this information out of her. “Well… I thought they were my friends. Until I passed out when drinking with them one night. I woke up with my panties missing, and a river of cum flowing out of me.” He quailed visibly, and felt a sudden loss of appetite. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach. “You okay, hon?” she asked in concern, seeing how he’d suddenly paled. “I can’t bear to think of you being treated like that.” “Me neither.” It didn’t stop her popping another chunk of FDA- certified medium-rare into her mouth, though. “Did you call the cops?” “Yeah, right.” Her tone said it all. “But that was rape!” “Certainly I blew my stack at them about it. They claimed I’d consented, though from the condition I was in, no way could it be “informed consent”. But it didn’t look like I’d get very far with a complaint. “Anyway, that was a side issue. The main problem, I realized, was that I dis-respected myself. My whole situation, y’know, with the drug thing goin’ on, I was abusing and wasting myself. I hadda turn that around somehow.” “You mean … you had to hit rock-bottom before you could come up again?” Only as these words left his lips did it occur to him how cliched they sounded. Really, he had no idea. “Not exactly” she said tactfully. “There’s more to it than that, and more to me than that.” “Like what?” She looked mostly down at the table as she answered, and her words slipped out innocuously, almost too casually. “Like … one thing I came to realise, was about the way that sex is important to me. I got particular urges I need to satisfy, if I’m to maintain my wellbeing.” He could pretty accurately guess what she was hinting at, but wanted to hear her actually say it. He’d never heard her speak so openly on this particular subject before. Tonight she seemed to be on a roll about it, and he felt it was timely to probe deeper. “Describe these urges …” “Don’t play the shrink with me! You know damn well that sex is only sex when I get to dominate a man!” “Okay okay, you don’t have to draw me a picture! But what are you trying to say - that this somehow stopped you turning into a total crack-whore?” Janelle had to think again – it was probably the first time she’d had to actually articulate the process whereby she’d arrived at this particular head-space of hers. It couldn’t be easy. She speared some salad with her fork and munched it, gazing across the room while her mind groped for words. “Best I can explain it is this – I came to know I’d have to really get my shit together to achieve the kind of relationships I wanted, the kind where I’d be well and truly in the driver’s seat. When you dominate a man, you’re responsible for him. You can’t do that unless you’re responsible for yourself first.” “Is that what I am – dominated?” “Don’t take it as a put-down. It’s what makes you so very attractive to me, that you have the inner strength to place me higher than your own pride …” He felt himself flushing red. All his life he’d found it hard to accept compliments in good grace. He steered the conversation back onto her. “So, you got saved by sex?” “I guess it does sound weird. But when it came to a choice between sex or drugs, I suppose you could say I chose sex. Not just any old sex, but good sex exactly the way I like it. So I moved in with Auntie N., and cleaned up my act. Haven’t been near drugs since.” “You ever get yourself checked for HIV?” “I got checked for every damn thing, believe me. Then, and every six months since. I’m clean - praise the Lord!” “A bit late for me to be asking, really.” “You can say that again!” He felt they were ready for coffee, and flagged the waitress. She cleared their plates at the same time. Janelle stirred three spoonfuls of sugar into her cup, then continued - “And since we’re on the subject of True Confessions, why’d you split from your wife?” He took his time answering. Some of those wounds were still tender. “She turned into a greedy bitch.” “There must have been something nice about her. Otherwise you wouldn’t have married her!” “She had a nice ass.” “Doug! Don’t clam up on me!” “We got married because it was the logical thing to do.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “She was from a good family, I’m from a good family. She went to a good school, I went to a good school. She had the right sort of friends, I had the same sort of friends. It was inevitable. Our parents were thrilled, said we made a good match.” “The kiss of death, huh? Parents saying that.” “You got that right. As a couple we must have looked good from the outside, but things never quite gelled in the bedroom.” “She was frigid, or what?” “She had to come out of the closet, that’s what. It was a long, drawn-out, and very upsetting process. Took a long time to admit to herself what she really was – in our circles it’s simply not the done thing to be one of those. Kept on changing her mind about it, first one way then the other. Meanwhile I didn’t know if I was coming or going, and neither did the poor lady she was coming out with.” “Any kids involved?” “No, thank Christ.” “But you said she was a greedy bitch?” “Oh, she added insult to injury by following that up with a messy divorce. She wanted to continue her accustomed lifestyle, yet continue not working for it. The lawyers ended up getting more out of that strategy than either she or I.” “And lastly, does she truly have a nice ass?” “Now that you’ve met her, you be the judge!” “Not bad, as asses go. I’d like to paddle it ‘til its good and red.” “I noticed the two of you didn’t exactly hit it off.” “I’d like to stick my biggest dildo up her butt.” “Okay, I get the picture. Anyway, how was your steak?” “Shit-hot. Thanks.” “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go buy you a phone.” “Let’s.” He paid the bill, then they crossed the neon-lit street and walked down about half a block to a mall. Inside they found a phone shop, and he let her choose a mobile of suitably feminine shape and colour. “Jeepers!” he exclaimed, “It’s only a ‘phone! The way you’re trying them all on and looking in the mirror, it’s like you’re buying it to wear, like shoes or something!” “No way is it “only a ‘phone”” she retorted. “It’s the only thing in the world where men boast about how small theirs is!” “Point taken.” Janelle finally selected a dainty item in lavender that glowed green when it rang, and he paid for it. “Since you mentioned shoes, I wouldn’t mind picking up a couple of new pairs while we’re here.” “I’m glad you don’t have any hang-ups about money.” “Especially yours.” She squeezed his backside appreciatively as they strolled off in search of a shoe shop. At first they thought the mall didn’t have one, which would have been strange, but at last it revealed itself on the very upper level, nearly at the end. It was a small operation, only one assistant and selling only ladies shoes, with a small but eclectic selection to choose from. Janelle was looking at pumps and comparing a few styles, then her gaze fell on the high-leather boots section. “Oooh! Check these out!” Some were tasteful, some were downright slutty. Some were definitely sensuous with their soft satin finish and new leather smell. Some had zips, and others had to be laced in complicated patterns. “Doug! Can you help me here?” Janelle was struggling to lace up the left one, and extended her foot for him to pull on the right one. He knelt in front of her, and she sat back to let him finish the job. Janelle paraded before the mirror, hiking up her hem to show the boots fully along with a portion of sleek thigh. “The other ones, Doug. C’mon! Get these off me again!” She sat as he bent to the task of slackening all the laces again. She was sitting a little unladylike now, her dress still hiked up, and he could see up between her dark-skinned legs to white knickers. That made it hard to concentrate, and she chastised him for taking so long. The sales assistant, who should have been helping, had been about to come over to do just that. A prim and smartly dressed white woman of about thirty, she instead busied herself a little longer with whatever paperwork she had to do beside the cash register. She had one eye on that, and one eye on the couple toying with the merchandise. Janelle was enjoying playing dressing-up games now, and was looking for the most outrageous boot styles to try on. Four-inch spike heels, snake-skin, doe-skin with zips, it all involved Doug doing each changeover as she sat back and let him sneak peeks up her dress. Finally the assistant came over to them, as Doug was struggling to extract Janelle’s foot from a particularly clingy black-leather number. Nodding in Doug’s direction, the store lady spoke directly to Janelle - “What a great assistant – looks like he’s got a real boot fetish!” This comment from a total stranger was so off-the-wall that Doug and Janelle looked at each other and momentarily froze. Doug could see an “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” look in her eyes. His own eyes said “I think I am, and I don’t like it!” “Yes” Janelle replied at last, speaking slowly and distinctly, “as a matter of fact, he’s a real good boot-licker. Aren’t you, Doug?” The lady gasped in surprise. She’d said it as a joke, and during the ensuing pregnant pause she’d worried they were about to take offence. “Well, carry on!” she said brightly, with relief that they weren’t cross with her. “Don’t let me cramp your style!” “Doug! Will you lick these boots, please?” Oh shit. She had that look in her eye. The look that said she would not be denied. Whatever it took, he’d have to do it. It was within the bounds of the agreement they’d struck when he first became her love slave. So far he’d been hoping her proclivities could all be satisfied within the privacy of his home or office. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he realised his luck had just run out. She extended a leather-clad foot toward him as he knelt. His face was a picture. He was blushing red- hot, and looking most embarrassed. She felt a surge of glee at his obvious discomfort. This would be a real test. This was going to be humiliating for him. Was he man enough to rise to this challenge? The assistant was looking on with interest. She’d never seen anything quite like this before. Would he actually do it? Right before her very eyes? It was kinda exciting. Doug bent forward, tenderly lifted the proffered boot, and dabbed the fresh new leather around her ankle with his tongue. He pulled away. The two women could see how his saliva had made the leather glisten. “The whole foot, Doug. Lick my whole foot.” He bent again, and spent one or two minutes covering the full extent of the boot upper with saliva from toe to heel. They say that three minutes is a long time in a boxing ring. Well, it’s an eternity when you’re being forced to lick somebody’s boots while a stranger is watching, with every chance that other strangers might walk in at any moment! He had that butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling, the adrenaline rush of the classic fight-or- flight syndrome. The sales lady spoke again hurriedly. “We’ve got other styles out in the back room – would you rather be seated in there than out here?” Janelle allowed that she would. The lady, now looking rather flushed around her face and neck, quickly swung the front door closed and put up her “Back in 10 mins” sign. Doug and Janelle were bustled into the stockroom, where two chairs stood against the shelving that held all the shoe boxes. Janelle sat on one, and Doug knelt before her. The lady stood on the other chair and reached for a selection of boxes. While she brought them down and opened them, Janelle asked Doug quietly – “Are you okay with this?” “No.” “But you’ll still do it, right?” “Yes.” “That’s my boy!” “Try these!” the lady said to Janelle. Doug had to lace them all the way up to her knee, while Janelle criticized him for being so slow about it. When he finished, she commanded “Lick!” and again he took about two minutes to cover the full extent of the upper from toe to ankle with his tongue. Didn’t taste at all bad, being new leather. And it smelled nice. But he didn’t like the way the sales lady’s eyes bored into him as he prostrated himself before them in this way. “Would you like him to try a pair on you?” Janelle asked the other lady sociably. She giggled nervously, then nodded vigorously with an “I thought you’d never ask!” sort of an expression on her face. She chose a pair of soft calf-skin zip-up boots and handed them to Doug. She had a mid-length black skirt on, so Doug wasn’t going to get any glimpses of anything he shouldn’t. He did have to remove her sandals first, though. This involved holding her bare foot and touching her ankle – an intimate gesture that made Doug look up at Janelle to see how she’d react to it. She urged him on with a curt nod. Slipping the boots on up to her knees, he had to smooth the soft leather out against her legs before the zips would go up. Finished, he sat back. The sales assistant waited expectantly. “Lick!” said Janelle. Doug lifted one of her feet and bent her leg out straight from her knee. He spent a good two minutes repeating his salivary functions on these boots as well. He glanced up at her a couple of times, and found her staring at him intently. He could see her chest rising and falling, and her breathing seemed a tad ragged. He finished with that boot, and put her foot down. “Give him the command” Janelle suggested sotto voce,”Go on!” The sales lady intoned quietly but firmly, “Lick the other one!” He complied, and did a repeat performance on that foot. The two of them were so quiet as he did so, you could have heard a pin drop. “My turn again!” said Janelle, and Doug had to fit her with another style of boots, then cover its foot all over with his tongue. He was getting a bit fatigued now by so much licking. The sales lady was fidgeting about in her seat the whole time, and seemed unable to wait until it was her turn again. When finished with Janelle, he had to go back and service the lady’s boots a second time. Warming to her role, she gave him instructions and corrected his technique a few times. The atmosphere was by now very charged, with the sales lady getting quite turned on by the experience of being able to issue Doug with boot-licking orders. But trust Janelle to think of a way to up the ante even further! “I can tell you’re enjoying this” she said to the sales lady, “and before we go I’d like to let you do something truly memorable. Is there anything else you’ve always wanted to command a man to do? Now’s your chance!” Doug wondered with apprehension what it might be. Flogging? Being ridden like a horse? Would he have to drink her pee? But she said, after a time “My mind’s gone blank. I wish I could think of something, but I can’t!” So Janelle came up with a fitting finale. “Doug! I want you to masturbate for the lady!” Oh shit, and double-shit! The idea of indulging them in a little leather pantomime with the boots was something he could just about handle, and he’d reckoned on getting out of there with his pride and clothing more-or-less intact. But … this? Anyway, he didn’t think he could. He certainly didn’t have a hard-on. “Get your tackle out!” The sales lady was even more interested in this development. She was so excited she was scarcely daring to breathe! To Doug, it was just too much! He considered refusing. On the other hand, Jannelle was on record as firmly saying that any breach of their love-slave agreement would result in her never seeing him again. He didn’t want that. But how serious would she be about enforcing this clause? From the steely look now in her eye, he had to conclude “very serious.” Her glare simply stared him down. Doug unzipped, and his cock hung limply out of his fly. “Pathetic! Are you doing that on purpose? Wait - I know what will get you hard – it never fails. You can’t resist me!” Janelle stepped behind Doug and reached her hands around to his chest. Through his shirt she delicately raked her nails across both his nipples. Oh fuck! It was true, this was something he couldn’t resist. Whenever she did that to him, he always got a hard-on whether he liked it or not. Two yards in front of him, the sales lady looked down at his stiffening prick with amazement, her eyes as round as saucers. Janelle reached a hand down and encircled his prick to check its turgor pressure. She declared it ready for action. “Jack off!” she commanded. He did so, eyes upon the sales lady, looking her up and down for inspiration, admiring peaks in her blouse that represented quality rather than quantity, regarding the slutty leather boots that still extended incongruously below her prim and proper black skirt, while Janelle leaned her breasts against his back, tickling and tweaking his nipples with her nails. The lady felt his lustful gaze ranging over her body and, despite the “armour” of being fully clothed, decided she didn’t like it. “Don’t look at me!” she snapped, cheeks enflamed with two red spots, “Look down at the floor!” He did so and closed his eyes altogether, the better to concentrate on the stimulation Janelle was giving to his nipples. “You may give him the command to cum!” Janelle chivalrously informed her host. That snapped her into action. “Omigod! He’s going to cum! Right here in the store! Omigod, it’ll make a mess! Wait, I’ve got to get something!” But the best she could do in the time available was pick up a stray boot and hold it in front of her, as a slender shield against the deluge she thought might issue forth in her direction. “I command you to cum!” she said in querulous voice. Too bad lady, I is a’cummin’ anyway, Doug thought to himself as Janelle’s ministrations to his nipples finally sent him over the edge. He shot forcefully and accurately at the boot being held before him, and about ninety percent of it hit home. Big spatters and globules covered about half of its shin portion, and began running down onto the foot part. The sales lady held it gingerly, as if it might explode. Janelle stepped forward and took it from her. “Doug, you may lick this clean now.” One thing he’d had to get used to in recent times was the taste of his own cum. Though usually it was mingled in with the taste of Janelle’s used pussy, not with the taste of brand-new leather. The sales lady was goggling at this latest depravity. But the very last item in Janelle’s game-plan would literally become the climax of the entire evening. “Doug! Get down on your knees!” He did, and was at once confronted by his beloved at very close quarters with her skirt up and her knickers down. With her dress bunched in one hand, her other clutched at the back of his head. He found his face suddenly and most violently thrust against her sparse crinkly pubes. He knew precisely what she wanted, and where she wanted it. Up so close and extremely personal, he’d no choice but to comply. “I’m sorry!” she gasped at the sales lady, “I can’t lend him to you! I’ve forbade him having intimacy with anyone but me!” “S’alright” came the strained reply, “I’m married, and I love my husband very much!” With his tongue lashing away at the muskiness in the confined space at the tops of her thighs, Doug soon heard the familiar guttural sounds in Janelle’s throat that showed matters were coming to a head. The sales lady had all this while been itching to play with herself, but modesty had prevented her doing any such thing for so long as Doug was able to see. Now that his face was well and truly buried in Janelle’s crutch, she seized the opportunity to sit back in a chair with her legs spread wide, her own skirt hoisted up around her hips. She pulled aside the gusset of her sensible cotton panties and dug her fingers in along her slit in frantic circular motions. She had a pretty pink flower-like pussy, with very little in the way of pubic hair. It was not long before she was moaning and groaning in a release of pent-up ecstasy. The sight of her pussy and her passion was too much for Janelle, who went over the edge in a big way. Doug hoped he wouldn’t need to have his head surgically removed from her insides, so hard did she cram his face against her fiery sex and hump his nose with her pelvis. Nobody spoke for about half a minute after the tremors had subsided. Then Janelle broke into the sales lady’s post-orgasmic reverie. “I’ll take them.” “What?” “That pair - the soft Italian ones, next to your chair.” While swiping Doug’s credit card, the lady spoke again to Janelle. “Would you mind calling me on this number sometime?” She slid a business card toward Janelle, who read the name before putting it in her handbag. The lady blushed as she continued – “I … I’ll … need to talk to you, privately, about … about … y’know …” “How best to dominate your husband?” “Yes, please.” Janelle smiled at her warmly. “Susan, I’ll be glad to share anything I know on the subject.” Comments or feedback about this story to timos111@hotmail.com