When did this all begin?!

This may help shed some light on my last cryptic post. 

She showed up at my posh flat at roughly a quarter after 9:00 PM. She was in her work clothes which consisted of a white collared shirt (which still looked well ironed), red neck tie, black business jacket with white pin stripes, her rather generous hips crammed into a matching skirt which stopped just above the knee, Secrets in Lace sheer to waist RHT Signature black pantyhose and black leather high heels, the heel a conservative length. She removed her jacket and handed it to me. I proceeded to hang it on a coat rack which resided by the front door but not before I rather inappropriately buried my face in it (cleverly done when her back was turned) inhaling deeply to experience the high of her perfume. She spared the pleasantries as is her wont and immediately instructed me to lie down on the floor while she relaxed in a leather chair which I’d received as a gift from a politically minded couple before they left for a three month vacation to Southern Africa the year before last. 

“Trabaje muy duro toda al dia,” she said, “there were a lot of very frustrating customers. Tu mereces esto, eres mi esclave y no lo olvides.”

She positioned the heel of one of her shoes against my neck and the tip of the other near my face. This afforded me a rather provocative view of her eminently shapely calves and thighs. 

“Besalo,” she ordered. I complied and kissed the tip of her shoe. I ceased after roughly three minutes to which she promptly asked if she told me I could stop. I of course replied in the negative and subsequently begged for her forgiveness before continuing with my prematurely halted affection. 

She regaled me by explaining she’d bought these particular heels – which were in fact Nine West Jackpot – at the mall during a recent sale where she was able to purchase a second pair of equal or lesser value for half-off. I did not speak on it but had the presence of mind to consider that would be a good sale indeed depending on the price. The smell of leather was quite pleasing and I did not resist when she pushed the bottoms of her shoes against my face. 

“Quien maneja aqui?” she asked, first in a pleasant conversational tone and then more terse, “Te pregunte quien maneja aqui?”

“You do…master,” I said.

She laughed, joyous and beautiful.  I was given a temporary reprieve. Then the sound like the gates to some paradisiacal Shangri-La opening as one shoe parted ways with her heel. One leg crossed over the other, her shoe dangling precariously off the tip of her nylon clad foot. It was danger, it was poetry in motion, it was as pure an expression of sex as I’d seen in my miserable worthless life. She let the shoe drop to the floor, the sound thrilling as it collided and my exhale was quite audible. With impressive speed she removed the other with her hand and flung it across the room. My God. 

“Eres tan patetico,” she said, malice in her voice, “tan patetico y feo. What a loser you are.” 

She placed both her feet on my face and pressed down hard. Ah, heaven scented perfume, oh sweet olfactory overload. The resultant combination of the Secrets in Lace sheer to waist RHT Signature pantyhose (featuring 20 denier) and the natural pheromones of her perfectly formed feet with stunning arches and toenails painted red along with the added sweetener previously afforded by the black Nine West Jackpot leather high-heels was the most wondrous, intoxicating and dizzying scent of all time. After again reminding me how pathetic I am, she ordered me to kiss her soles, arches, heels and toes and I complied. 

While this was happening she discussed office politics such as rivalries and bad feelings which unfortunately existed between various employees due to the rigid commission based system inherent to bank work with respect to new accounts being opened and new cards issued. She said today was a particularly long and difficult day as the intense heat outside was actually felt inside due to the air conditioning not working properly for the past two days (their maintenance man had already checked on the system and found several parts that needed replacement, one of which would not be in stock until the end of this week or the beginning of next). I did recall the bank being a bit balmy when I’d gone in to deposit my new monetary gains. She was especially chagrined by this indoor climate change as her boss was stringent on the bank dress code and hosiery had to be worn at all times though I must admit that I considered the insufferable heat to be a great ally in that moment. 

Eventually she told me to sit up, my back to her. She choked with me first with her tie and then with her forearm, pressing hard against my Adam’s apple, her hair brushing against the side of my face.  Then she pulled my arms toward her and pushed her knee into my back until I howled with pain to which she called me a “loser” once more.  I was instructed to stay on my knees and turn around.

“No me mires en los ojos esclave! You are not worthy.”

From a coral colored Coach bag (which she briefly explained was a Christmas gift from an ex with whom she is still on friendly terms) she produced another pair of hosiery, nude-colored this time. She explained these were from the day before.

“Abre la boca.”

I followed her instruction and without warning she stuffed the used pantyhose into my mouth, pushing quite forcefully and creating a very effective and surprisingly flavorful gag. 

“How could you ever think I’d ever go out with you? As if!” she said while amazingly producing another pair of hosiery from her Coach bag, black fishnets this time and still staying with the classic and reliable Secrets in Lace brand. She explained these were worn the day before yesterday as she went to church, ran various errands and enjoyed an afternoon at the park with friends, carne asada and a few drinks. She promptly placed these over my face and pulled them tight until my head was enwrapped in one of the legs. 

She pushed me down on my back a placed a sole on my face again, pushing and moving in an almost massage like motion. Then she moved this foot down to my throat and pressed down, applying a shocking amount of pressure. She released her grip around the time my vision was dimming. I coughed and she laughed. Such glory.  I was only allowed a brief moment of relief before she pushed down with her foot again, harder than before. 

“No te preocupes mijo,” she said, her voice gentle and her eyes caring, beautiful face framed by coal black hair “tranquilo, quedare contigo hasta al fin.”

I felt an explosive amount of pressure on my throat and pain in my head and the last thing I saw was her sweet face before I blacked out. 

Then I woke up and began my day in earnest and I believe you know the rest. At some point I briefly wept for our lost humanity.