Stocking Foot Slave

Stocking Foot Slave

The night was dark and oppressive as I made my way to my destination. I had been searching for something special, something out of the ordinary, something that would fulfill my desperate desires for pleasure and domination. That night I found it: my own personal stocking foot slave.

I had heard rumors of a secret underground brothel that catered to the unusual and extreme desires of the wealthy and powerful. I had been to the ones in the city, but they all seemed so plain and boring. This, however, was something different. I heard stories of the women there, women who had been trained in the art of domination and submission, women who were not afraid to push the boundaries and explore their darkest desires.

It was not long before I found the small, unassuming building in the sleazy part of town. I entered and immediately my senses were overwhelmed. The building was small, the walls adorned with extravagant paintings of women in various positions of submission. Candles flickered in the corners, sending shadows dancing across the walls.

I was escorted to my room where I found my stocking foot slave. She was dressed in a simple black corset and stockings, her body adorned with tattoos and piercings, her eyes smoldering with anticipation and desire. We locked eyes for a moment and I knew that I was about to experience something special.

We began our session with a slow, sensual massage. Her hands moved over my body with an expert touch, her fingers kneading my muscles until I felt as if I was floating in a sea of pleasure. After the massage, she began to explore and tease my body with her stocking feet. She used them to lightly caress my skin, tracing patterns on my body that sent shivers through me.

Next, she turned to more conventional forms of bondage and pleasure. She tied me up with soft ropes, taking her time to ensure that my wrists and ankles were securely bound. Once she had me fully restrained, she began to take advantage of me. She used her feet to massage every inch of my body, her feet rubbing and pressing against my flesh in all the right ways. I felt myself becoming aroused and desperate for her touch, her lips, her tongue.

Finally, she moved from my body and went down to the floor. She knelt before me, her eyes still smoldering with desire. She took my foot in her hand and, looking up at me with a mischievous grin, she began to suck and lick each one of my toes hungrily. I was in awe of her skill, her tongue and lips flicking across my skin with an effortless grace that sent waves of pleasure through my body.

After a while, she moved back up to my body and proceeded to pleasure me with her mouth and tongue. She sucked and licked her way from my toes up to my neck, exploring and teasing every inch of my body as I writhed in pleasure beneath her. I had never felt anything so electrifying, and I was soon screaming out in pleasure as orgasm after orgasm rocked my body.

When she was finished, she sat up and looked at me, a satisfied smirk on her lips. She had just given me an experience that I would never forget, and I thanked her profusely. She smiled back, obviously pleased with herself, and I knew that I had found the perfect stocking foot slave. From that moment on, I had no need to search any further.