Foot Worship

My Darlings,

It's another evening of dance for Mistress. Don't you wish you were here, on your knees, watching me pull the dance tights up my legs. So smooth, so shiny. Think how that handsome younger man will feel when I do a sensuous leg crawl up his leg during the Tango. Or when I do an American Spin in the Swing, and my dress flies up, showing so much leg.
And here you are, at home, on your hands and knees, scrubbing the bathroom tile with your toothbrush. Didn't you do that last night? Oh well, it can never be too clean. If you manage to finsih that chore I've left a list of others on the refrigerator. When I come home you may service me.


I'm home. Ah there you are. Miss me? Hmm, that curtsy was sloppy; do fifty more before bed and remind me to cane you tomorrow. Crawl to me and remove my shoes. Now...smell my feet; do you like the way they smell after hours of dancing? You may assist in removing my tights, but put on your opera gloves, I don't want your hands actually touching me. Young, strong male hands have been holding me all evening. Hands that deserve me, excite me. Yours are the hands of a sissy maid.
Yes, you may smell the crotch of my dance tights. If you do a good job of foot worship you may even take them to bed with you, to sniff, to suck, to taste. To think and dream...of ME.
Lick my feet, show me how much you love and adore me, let me feel the depth of your submission through your tongue. Lick between the toes, suck them. Goodness you really are a slut. What else would you do for me? I wonder.
(c) 2010 Constance Pennington Smythe

Nighty Nite, my babies,
Mistress Constance