Mistress Blunt is the best foot dominatrix I have encountered in my life. And that’s saying something, considering I have realized the power of women’s feet my entire life. Mistress Blunt is the best I have ever encountered because her feet are not just gorgeous—although they absolutely, absolutely are—but they radiate her essence. When I have thought about feet in my life, the phrase that has always played over and over in my mind has been “soft and delicate.” Soft and delicate toes, soft and delicate soles, washing over me. That was my old fantasy.
It’s hard to fully describe what happened during my exchange with Mistress Blunt. If you’ve ever heard of the Red Rocks in Arizona, you know the legends that they are somehow connected to mystical healing energies and that being near them can change you. That’s what it’s like to be near Mistress Blunt’s feet. I was drawn to my knees within moments of arriving in her gorgeous, sun-filled dungeon. He stare leveled me, her body humbled me, and her feet magnetized me. I could barely take my eyes off her brightly shining black heels.
As she taught me the proper position to kneel in front of her, she took off her heels and wiggled her toes in front of me. Her red nail polish glistened. My mouth was open at this point, moaning. She had such a smile on her face. Suddenly I wanted more. Suddenly I wanted to feel the power of her feet. Suddenly I was begging the best foot dominatrix to become a CBT (cock and ball torture) dominatrix. I needed to feel her feet moving through my body, using me like an oar moves through river.
She laughed with glee. Mistress Blunt understands her power fully. Mistress Blunt clearly gets such joy from it, she understands that being the best foot dominatrix and being a CBT dominatrix go hand-in-hand (or foot-in-foot, as it were).
She ordered me to re-position my body. No longer kneeling with my palms open, I was to now lay spread eagle on her wooden floor, my palms touching the ground. She gently lifted my head up and helped place a mask on my face, completely cutting off my sight. My body tensed as I laid on the cool floor, my spine straightening with the wood. My body was swimming electricity, stiff and twitching.
Mistress Blunt told me to breathe. To just breathe in and out. At first they were harsh, short, nervous breaths, but eventually I calmed. I heard her heels click on the floor. My body began to loosen, my spread legs began to slacken.
And then she kicked me right in the balls.
I rolled over onto my side in pain, moaning yet again. I had no thoughts. She pushed my thighs down and then pressed her heel right into my squirming dick. “Stay still!” she said, as a firm command. She dug deep and laughed more. I couldn’t see her but I could see her, if that makes
sense. I couldn’t think either. But I could see the best foot dominatrix and the best CBT dominatrix melding into one entity, I could see the world.
I don’t know entirely what happened to my dick during this session. Again, I couldn’t see. But Mistress Blunt clearly amused herself, and I screamed and I screamed until I could no longer see the world. I was nothing. I was a body that would respond to stimuli and nothing else. The stimuli of Mistress Blunt’s perfect feet kicking, her heels digging in, her nails running down my
body. I was her tool, I was her amusement. The best dominatrix I have ever seen chose to make me her tool.
Her feet were soft, and they were delicate. But they didn’t fit into my conception of feet. I could say they were weapons, but that sounds like Mistress Blunt coerced me into worship. I melted in front of them. Rather than reaching for metaphor, I will simply say that they are Mistress Blunt’s
feet. You will gravitate towards them as I have, and you will be at a loss for words.