Toes for Your Pleasure

Ass

I wake up to you rustling beside me. You let me curl up next to you last night, let me snuggle up under your arm, even let me rest my head on your chest. You told me I was a good kitten, that I had pleased you. I know however, that finding me there in the morning, instead of in my “proper,” place, would dissatisfy you, so I quickly slide off the bed before your eyes flutter open. By the time you sit up and stretch, I’m in “position.” Not that it’s difficult of course. Simply a matter of sliding off the bed, rolling onto my back under the straps installed in the wall, and putting my legs up through them.

The straps are about an inch in width and stretch out directly from the wall, each with a loop, similar to stirrups. There’s one set about a foot off the ground, the other about three feet. The lower set’s loop is large, but just barely slides down to my mid-thighs. I can never wear clothing when I slide my legs through, because even thin shorts will keep them from sliding down to where you want them. With my head against the wall next to your bed, the straps are set at a length which forces my legs straight up, perpendicular to the floor and my body. The second set of straps, slightly higher, fit just over my ankles and are adjustable, to an extent. I can put them on, and tighten them to fit around my ankles, but I can’t untighten them, due to a mechanism not entirely unlike handcuffs, but with cloth. Only the key you carry will unlock the small teeth that hold the strap in place. I know this because when I first became your pet I was placed here, at your bedside, all night, and all night I pulled and pulled on the straps, thinking I could force my way out. I only succeeded in tiring myself out, which you later admitted to being glad for, since it made me much easier to subdue in the morning (I confess, I didn’t make training me easy on you).

A small cushion separates the top of my head from the wall, but besides that there is nothing around me. I lie naked, in an L shape, Bostancı Sınırsız Escort directly on your bedroom floor. I hastily pull at the higher straps, tightening the ankle straps till they bite into my flesh. When you first let me tie myself in I did it loosely, but that was a mistake I never made again…

You throw your legs over the side of the bed, and I do the last step: I push my wrists into the small indentions on either side of me, until we both hear a “click.” I am now completely unable to move, beyond bending slightly up at the waist and, of course, wiggling my toes. *Wriggle*

I used to not understand this morning routine, but now I wake up every morning craving it. I love the feel of your morning self sliding across my heel, up to my toes, of you helping me hold my feet together to make a perfect tunnel for you. I don’t have to wait long this morning. You look at me for a moment, pleased with my self-direction, and reach for the lotion on your bedside table. You rub yourself for a moment and I can’t help but stare. I *need* that between my toes. I wriggle them in anticipation and you smile. “Just a moment kitten.” I point my toes and then turn my ankles, looking at you through the gap the arches in my feet make. I wish you would let me have one hand free, so I could touch myself. Sleeping next to you made me crave this even more. You see me trying to lift my wrists and you tell me to have patience. You stand up and face me. My feet are exactly at waist height for you, and you immediately slide between my feet. I giggle. It always tickles a little at first, and the more lotion you add, the worse it gets.

I run my toes down each side of you, wriggling them and squeezing you. I alternate back and forth, then both at the same time, easily holding in my laughter: it’s always less ticklish when I’m the one moving. I point my toes and push you upward against the soles of my feet. Then back down. Back up again. Then I maneuver you to between Bostancı Suriyeli Escort my big toe and second toe and push my foot back and forth. “It’s getting a little dry…” you say, reaching for the lotion. Damn, it was finally getting to where it didn’t tickle. You reapply lotion and grab my feet, squeezing them on either side of you. You slide yourself between them slowly, and I manage to smile. You look at me and chuckle, then quickly slide back and forth three times. My back arches and laughter bursts from my lips. You keep going, squeezing my feet together harder and harder, and I laugh until tears come to my eyes.

“Pllleeaaasseeee!” I say. You stop for a moment, look at me sternly, and ask exactly what I’m begging for. “Please sto-” Your fingernail runs down my foot causing me to jump and laugh.

“Think about what you want to beg for,” you threaten, and suddenly I remember the last time I begged for you to stop tickling me. Sure, you had stopped tickling me for a moment, long enough for you to grab a jar of strawberry jam, which you then rubbed on my feet. Then you let in the neighborhood’s stray cat who hungrily gnawed and licked my feet and toes until I cried for mercy. You told me that I was a tickle slut, that that was all I was good for, that it was fine if I didn’t want you to tickle me, but that someone would have to. “And there are other ways besides felines to make sure my tickle kitten gets her fill, but I’m not sure you even want to know about them…yet.”

The memory makes me reconsider and so I begrudgingly change my begging.

“Please sir, use my feet however you need, and please please tickle me while you do it!”

In response to this you begin tickling the tops of my feet as you slide between my feet, the smooth skin tickling my arches. I groan and laugh and throw my head back and forth as you begin to move faster and faster, your fingernails digging into the tops of my feet, my toes wriggling like mad. Bostancı İranlı Escort You bring your foot forward and your toe just barely brushes against my clit. I jump and pull at my wrists. I need to touch myself so badly. You see my reaction and wriggle your toe lightly, just brushing me. I can’t decide whether to moan or laugh so I do both, straining against the straps to push my wet cunt closer to your toe. You keep it just out of reach however, enjoying tormenting me. After what feels like an excruciatingly long time, you reach with one hand to a release button on the bedside table, continuing to fuck my feet. The release button allows my hands freedom, and I instantly go to my clit, still laughing from the lotion on my feet and the feeling of you sliding back and forth between them. I push three fingers into myself and crush my clit with my other thumb, back and forth. I see that you’re getting close. I’m about to explode.

“Master, please please PLEASE may I cum? I need you to tickle me, I need you to fuck me, I need to cum PLEASE??!” I hold myself right on the edge, waiting for one word to issue from your lips.

“No.”

My eyes fly open wide and I try to argue but the speed of you between my feet and the feel of your fingers on the top of my feet force me to keep laughing and laughing instead. Seeing my helpless frustration pushes you over the edge, and I feel warm drops land between my breasts and feel gooey heat between my toes. You stand for a moment over me, my frustration mounting. My eyes beg.

“What are you, kitten?”

“A tickle slut, Master.”

“And who do you belong to, kitten?”

“You Master!”

“And what are you good for, kitten?”

“Only for being tickled Master, please tickle me Master!”

“Very good,” You drag your fingernails down a dry part of my foot, “You may cum.”

And with that I climax, adding to the mess, hot warmth spilling out under me.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhohhhhhhhhh”

You wait till I can breathe again, and undo the top straps for me.

“Ok kitten, you know what to do.”

And with that, you walk out of the room to shower and begin your day. You know I’ll be back in “position,” for you as soon as I finish cleaning up: Which I do in exactly the way a good kitten would. *lick* *lick* *purrrrrr*

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