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As soon as she left, I rushed to the bathroom to rinse my mouth and get rid of the foul taste. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. Less than a fortnight ago, I had no idea about submission. It had always seemed to me like a special kind of sex reserved for couples who were a bit kinky. I had read a lot about it since then and it had excited my curiosity. But after what had happened tonight, I could no longer deny that I had accepted domination from this woman and she, for her part, did not seem unaffected by my allegiance.
She was the first woman I had ever had a relationship with and it was a relationship of submission to a woman who was my mother’s age. I was both stunned and ashamed by how this had started. I had never felt particularly kinky, but the smell of her feet and the commanding air she had taken towards me had turned me on as I had never been turned on before.
It was a difficult week. I masturbated almost every night but would stop before I came, dedicating my ‘restraint’ to her, and the constant state of frustration it put me in. My parents came home on Tuesday night. They were relaxed and tanned, despite the time of year they had been away. Mom looked at her curtains and thought they looked great.
“Carole did a great job.” Mom was elated.
It was the first time I heard Mrs. Leroy’s name and it didn’t fall on deaf ears. My parents were back, life became ordinary again; except that I was still holding back from cumming and it was starting to really weigh on me.

One evening, as agreed, Mrs. Leroy came back to our house to discuss the interior decor with my mother. It felt strange to see her again in this familiar context. But the look she gave me showed that she had not forgotten anything from our previous meetings. Me neither. My heart was pounding when I saw this woman again.
My eye was attracted by the pumps she was wearing, imagining her taking off her shoes and making me smell the scent of her feet while shamelessly trampling me. This simple depraved thought was enough to make me hard and it hardened my cock in my pants while I tried to listen to the two women. Mom had insisted that I must be present at the meeting. My excuses wouldn’t have meant much. Therefore, I didn’t make much effort to resist.
“Did Edgar help you?” Mom inquired of Mrs. Leroy with a smile.
“Yes, he was very helpful.” Mrs. Leroy smiled back.
My mother had said this without any ulterior motive, but Carole’s answer and the brief look she gave me, certainly made my erection throb and strain against my zipper. I was even more embarrassed because my erection was now showing in my light pants.
My mother left to go seek a tool. Mrs. Leroy took advantage of it. She came towards me, looking me in the eyes, and held my penis in her hand through my pants.
“Well then, Edgar, you do not say hello to me?”
I didn’t understand what she meant since my mother and I had greeted her when she arrived. She stretched out a foot towards me. I then understood what she meant. Obeying her silent order, I knelt down and kissed the pump she was holding out to me.
My mother returned. “Edgar, what are you doing on all fours?”
Mrs. Leroy had hastily withdrawn her foot and I found myself ridiculous on my knees before her. I didn’t know what to say, but she came to my rescue.
“I dropped my ring,” Mrs. Leroy exclaimed hastily.
I jumped at the chance and stood up as calmly as possible. “No, it’s not down here.”
Mom seemed very embarrassed by the situation and looked at Mrs. Leroy with annoyance.
“I’m sorry. We’ll find it when we clean up,” Mom said, sounding irritated.
“It’s not a very valuable ring, but I want it,” Mrs. Leroy pressed sternly.
“Look again if you can find it, Edgar,” Mom had to acknowledge with displeasure.
I knew there was no ring to be found, but I got back on my knees and pretended to look. The two women were sitting in the booth discussing the decorator’s next job. I was on my hands and knees at their feet and rummaging under the bench. I was searching on the side of Mrs. Leroy who was not doing anything to make things easier for me. After a while, I got up with a distasteful face and a terrible erection. Carole had obviously noticed it but of course made no remark.
I didn’t understand why I had a hard-on; nothing about the situation was exciting. Maybe it was only the simple presence of Mrs. Leroy, my fantasy Mistress. I sat down in an armchair in front of the two women and pretended to listen to their conversation. They were planning to redo my parents’ bedroom and got up to go and see. I foolishly followed them. Mom was showing Mrs. Leroy what she wanted. She listened patiently, taking notes in a little notebook and nodding sometimes. It was she who broke off the conversation.
“Okay, I’ll send you an estimate as soon as it’s ready.” Mrs. Leroy said. Her gaze fell on me as if she was discovering me. “Your son could help me, it would lower the price,” she proposed.
“It’s an excellent idea, and it will keep him busy.” Mom didn’t hesitate a second to accept the offer.
I was both enthusiastic about the idea of being Mrs. Leroy’s right-hand man, and disappointed by my mother’s reflection. I didn’t need to be ‘busy’ and my status as a ‘job seeker’ shouldn’t allow her to think I was doing nothing.
When Mrs. Leroy left us, I was angry with my mother and went to my room.

“That’s it, I got it,” Mom shouted into the apartment, covering the hum of the vacuum cleaner.
She held a ring in her hand like a trophy. I was stunned. I knew the whole misplaced ring thing was a lie, and I didn’t expect my mom to find this imaginary object.
“That’s good. You can return it to the interior decorator,” I replied, still recovering from my bewilderment.
She turned off the vacuum cleaner, looking stern. “No, you’re going to take it back to her.”
I was both appalled and seduced by the opportunity to see her again. I was almost resisting on principle.
“Why me?”
“Because.” Her eyes peered at me.
The argument was irrefutable and I could see in her eyes that she was not going to budge.

I went to Mrs. Leroy’s house to return her ring. She lived in an old luxury building situated downtown; a marble plaque on the wall gave the name of the architect and the date of the building’s erection: 1903. A little intimidated, I rang the intercom.
“Yes?” A voice buzzed from the other side.
“It’s Edgar. I’m bringing back your ring,” I replied.
“My ring? Ah yes, come upstairs, it’s on the second floor,” Mrs. Leroy guided me.
A click informed me that the door was open. I climbed a marble staircase with a red carpet fixed in its middle; the thick doors were in waxed wood. Everything was luxurious and I felt more and more like a stranger. On the second floor, I found a door ajar and knocked on it.
“Come in.”
I passed the door and remained in a trance. Mrs. Leroy was in a silk robe, with mules on her feet.
I was used to seeing her prepared, and entering her privacy made me uncomfortable. But she quickly put an end to my thoughts.
“What are you still doing dressed?” she chuckled mischievously.
She had taken, to say this, a directive tone and I obeyed her obediently, hastily removing my clothes and getting naked in front of her.
“You’re not hard!” she mocked.
I didn’t recognize her, this sloppiness, this authoritative air, these raw words, it didn’t match the idea I had of her. I looked down at my flaccid cock dangling against my legs.
“No ma’am.”
“Do you masturbate often?” she giggled sarcastically.
This was very intimate and none of her business. I could have — I should have — just shrugged it off, but I don’t know why, I told her the truth.
“Almost every night Madam, but I don’t cum.”
“You masturbate and you don’t come?” She smiled. Her words hurt my masculinity.
“You have forbidden me to do so, Madam.” I had nothing else left, but to confess.
She looked at me with surprise. Advancing her mule, she added, “You didn’t say hello to me.”
I had said it all. She knew I was her puppet. I knelt down and kissed the foot she was holding out to me. After a moment, she withdrew her foot.
“Okay, you can give me my ring back.”
Coming out of a sort of trance, I went to the pants I had left on the floor.
“Here it is.”
She took it with a kind of relief and put it on her ring finger. It was a simple gold ring and I wondered for a moment if it was a wedding ring. I had never imagined that she could be married and had never met her husband. The house seemed to have a typical feminine decoration, but surely a woman like her must have found a man.
It was strange but thinking about this supposed husband made me uncomfortable, even jealous, and I couldn’t help but ask her the question.
“Are you married?”
She looked at me as if emerging from a dream. “I was, but he died.”
I felt brutally stupid.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“Don’t be, it’s an old story.” She shrugged.
I suddenly saw the strangeness of the situation; I was naked, hands behind my back, and I was talking to her like an old friend. And yet, I had only one desire, it was to throw myself against her legs and to kiss her. She was my Mistress, she knew it, and my nudity only proved that fact. She stared at me for a moment with an ambiguous expression.
“Wait, I’ll be back.”
She came back a few moments later with a small faded cardboard box that she handed to me.
“Here, put this on.”
I opened the box to find a curved chrome steel tube and a bracelet of the same metal. I recognized it as a chastity cage but I looked at it stupidly.
“Do you know what this is?” she inquired with a mischievous smile on her face.
“It’s…it’s a chastity cage.” I was completely stunned.
“Yes, put it on,” she commanded with a sadistic grin all over her face.
“Why?” I swallowed hard.
“Because I say so,” she ordered sternly.
Surprised by her answer, I hesitated. Of course, I had already given up my sexuality to her, but this was something else. If I put this thing there, I had no choice. A question popped into my head.
“How did you get this?” I kept shifting weight from one foot to another.
“It’s my husband’s. I think it will fit you.”
The more answers she gave, the more opaque things became. So her husband had worn a cage and Mrs. Leroy was not what she seemed.
I didn’t know if I should obey her or leave and call her crazy, but the idea of living without her seemed unbearable and, with a heavy heart, I put the device on.
The ring that went behind my testicles was tight and I had trouble closing it. The cage was held in place by another anti-slip ring, which I painfully pushed onto my penis before wearing the chastity cage. A small brass padlock closed the whole thing and I heard the final ‘click’ with a shiver down my spine. There was no key in the box. I looked at it with apprehension. My world was turning upside down, I had never thought of going this far. A lot of questions were running around in my head. It was especially the surprise of discovering this hidden face of Mrs. Leroy that amazed me.
“What if I have an accident?” My mind was bombarded with various questions.
“The doctors can always cut the lock.” She just chuckled and carefully inspected my new attire.
“But…but they’ll know.” I was getting paralyzed by my troubled thoughts.
She stared at me again.
“Yes, they’ll know you’re caged,” Mrs. Leroy said, as if this was nothing to her.
She seemed to articulate some schemes.
“Listen to me my little Edgar, I thought that all this was behind me and that it was dead with my husband, but seeing you so humble, so docile, made me want to try. If you want, I’ll take this cage away from you and you can leave; if not, you can come and kiss my feet. Think it over. It’s a decision with no return.”
I looked at her indecisively, weighing the pros and cons. It was unthinkable not to see her anymore, not to consider her as my Mistress; on the other hand, I could not see myself wearing this thing whose cold metal was starting to pull on my testicles.
I finally made up my mind and threw myself on my knees at her feet. She was wearing mules with fur that went up my nose. She looked at me, satisfied and a little haughty.
“You like feet, don’t you?” Mrs. Leroy knew how to toy with her slave’s mind. She was an expert in this.
Saying this, she took a foot out of her mule and handed it to me. Her bare foot smelled different, a very slight musty odor that didn’t make me hot or cold; nevertheless, I embraced this foot with a kind of primitive delight, as one pays homage to a goddess. That lasted one moment, then she put her foot back in her mule.
“Well, that’s enough, get dressed and go away.”
She looked at me calmly as I put my clothes back on and then walked me to the door.
“I’ll be waiting for you here Tuesday night.”
My mind was already racing through a thousand thoughts, never allowing me to focus on one. All I could hear was my heart pounding like a bass drum. All I felt was a strain in my pants and some moisture in my chastity cage.

Part 2

When she was gone, I was dazed. What had just happened came back to me, and I was lost. The shame overwhelmed me. I pulled down my pants again, looking at the sticky cum that was smearing my belly. I was still half hard. I would never be able to see this woman again without feeling that shame.
As I changed, things took a different turn. After all, far from running away, she had gotten into my game and even masturbated me. Although it didn’t make me feel any less ashamed, I clung to the idea to try to convince myself that it wasn’t so bad.
The evening seemed long. I couldn’t explain my behavior. It was the first time I had ejaculated like that without touching myself, and it tormented me. Was I a premature ejaculator, ready to cum at the slightest pretext? I had never thought that, but the idea made me uncomfortable.
I forgot these dark thoughts in the following days.
I felt like masturbating once or twice while reading erotic stories as usual but, I don’t know why, I refrained. The thought of her unequivocal gesture was still with me, and I felt a kind of discomfort at the idea of jerking off. I gathered new dirty stories, all about female domination. They made me hard, but I held back from cumming, putting my hand on my sex but stopping myself before the final explosion. My favorites were about chastity imposed by a tyrannical woman who took great pleasure in exciting her submissive, knowing that he could do nothing to calm the tension she was creating in him. As I read these stories, I realized that I was not the only one who was attracted to women’s feet. Every time I read these perverse stories, I thought of Mrs. Leroy.

The following Tuesday, my parents called to tell me that their trip was going well and that they were staying a little longer on the vacation. I was disappointed by this news. I couldn’t imagine receiving the decorator again knowing what had happened between us. Yet, deep inside, I couldn’t help but feel a certain excitement.
She rang my doorbell on Thursday evening, as agreed. She was surprised when I opened the door.
“Hello Pascal, aren’t your parents here?” Mrs. Leroy had a wicked smile on her luscious lips.
“No, they are staying a little longer on their trip.” My heart was already pounding like a thousand bass drums.
She stared at me with an ambiguous look. I was terribly embarrassed, but I didn’t let it show. She walked in, passing me by without a word. I closed the door and followed her into the living room. She was mechanically removing her jacket, apparently lost in her thoughts. I thought I should offer my services.
“Do you need the stepladder?” I swallowed hard.
She looked at me intently. “Yes…but you’ll have to hold it.”
As she said this, her face lit up with a slight smile that chilled me. I had said that without any ulterior motive, but her smile sent me back to my fantasies, and I had the feeling that she thought I had said it excitedly.
I brought the stepladder. She took off her shoes and climbed up, staring at me. I held the rickety ladder tightly, my head a few inches from her feet. Their smell caught me again, and I felt my dick stiffen in my briefs. She looked at me with a smile, aware of the effect she was having on me.
“Take off your briefs. You’re going to cum in them again,” Mrs. Leroy teased.
A little taken aback, I looked at her to see if she was joking. Her amused look showed me that it was not the case. I hesitated for a moment and, finally obeying her order, removed my pants. My stiff rod sprang out of my underwear, which made her laugh sardonically.
“It’s about time.”
I resumed my half-naked shift, my hard-on swinging below my stomach. She seemed to have lost interest in me and was busy with the curtain. I felt ridiculous, but it evoked some of my readings, and I found in this depravity a weird fulfillment. I watched this woman, mature in age and wit and dominance, work with a new eye, considering her as the mistress who filled my fantasies.
Without seeming to take notice, she placed a wet foot against my face, further increasing my confusion. It was strange; I hated this stinking smell, and yet at the same time, it had a terrible effect on me. I felt on the verge of orgasm, and it wouldn’t have taken much for me to cum.
She had taken an obvious ascendancy over me and turned to see my state. A translucent stream was flowing from my glans, obviously showing the excitement I was feeling.
“Are you going to cum?” she mocked.
“I…I don’t know.” My voice sounded oddly hoarse as I said this.
Putting down her tools, she stepped down from the step ladder and looked me straight in the eye.
“Take off your shirt.”
I silently obeyed, removing the last piece of clothing that separated me from complete nudity.
“ Jerk off.”
I was no longer me, I was in a kind of erotic trance, and her words echoed in my head like a mantra. I put my hand on my sex, which was enough to make me reach the point of no return, and I ejaculated piteously, projecting long jets of semen on the floor.
She watched me cum in silence, her eyes glistening. I felt grotesque, cumming in front of her almost without touching myself. She had moved aside to avoid the spurts that I was rhythmically evacuating. I was even more ashamed of myself when it was over, but she did nothing to calm me down.
“That was quick.”
I looked at her with tears in my eyes, stupidly holding my sex in my hand. She smiled at me, her cheeks flushed. Her gaze fell on the whitish streaks on the floor.
“Lick.”
I was both amazed and disgusted by what she was asking. I had never tasted my cum, and it had never occurred to me. Now that I had cum, my excitement had subsided, and it seemed repulsive. I looked at her stupidly. Her authoritative look left no doubt about her intentions.
So, overcoming my revulsion, I got down on all fours and lapped my secretions from the floor. More than the acrid taste, it was the slimy consistency that disgusted me, and I finished my task feeling nauseous. I got up in silence, with a grimace on my face, but with a certain pride in having obeyed her order.
She was staring at me, her eyes dark. Me, I fought against the desire to vomit, the acrid taste in my mouth, the sticky veil which covered my palate, everything concurred to give me nausea.
I had the sensation of regaining consciousness. I was there, naked in front of this woman, and I put my hands stupidly on my sex in the absurd hope to hide it.
She didn’t look at me as she put her shoes and jacket back on. I felt stupid. I was past the point of shame, past the point of humiliation. I watched her do it without saying anything, without even thinking of getting dressed. She stood up, staring into my eyes.
“Well, I’m leaving. I’ll be back when your parents are back.”