The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Topping From the Bottom

by J. Darksong

Shelley sighed deeply as she stepped inside the house, tossing her briefcase onto the table before dropping wearily onto the couch. She kicked off her ruby red heels, then let out a sigh of relief, stretching her tired feet. “I’m home,” she announced, propping her aching peds up on the ottoman set up in front of the couch. Hours of turning from her desk computer to the auxiliary unit and back had twisted her muscles in knots... not to mention the stress of trying to be friendly and civil while dealing with the usual assortment of ‘mentally deficient’ callers all day long. In short, she was tired, very irritable, and more than a little sore. Luckily, she had just the way to unwind after a long hard day.

Or, so she though. Five minutes later, she sat alone on the couch, her frustration and anger nearly reaching its limits. “I said, ‘I’m home!’” she repeated, loudly, waiting. After five more minutes, she rose to her feet and stomped her way down the hall towards the bedroom.

“What the HELL are you doing in here?” she yelled angrily as she opened the door.

The young man on the floor across the room glanced towards the door. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you. I’m just finishing up cleaning the bedroom—”

“Silence!” Shelley roared, and the young man stopped in midsentence, lowering his head. He kept his eyes down as the Mistress of the house made her way over to him, towering over his slim form. Whipping a hand out, she grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head up to look at her. He winced, but made no other complaint, keeping his eyes purposely down even as she forced him to look at her.

“Still cleaning, are you?” she challenged, glancing around the room. “How long does it usually take you to clean this house, boy?”

The man licked his lips. “I’m sorry. I spilled the wine glass left behind from last night, and I had to work quickly to keep it from staining the carpet. That, um... put me a little... off schedule.”

“Uh huh,” Shelley said dubiously. She released her hold on his hair and turned to the entertainment center, opening the cabinet door, frowning. She placed a hand against the TV. It was warm to the touch. “So, you haven’t been spending your time playing those stupid video games instead of working today?”

The young man blanched visibly. “Mistress, I assure you, I would never—”

“Admit to doing something, knowing it would get you into trouble?” Shelley finished angrily. She shook her head. “Well you’re in trouble now, boy! I’m going to take a hot shower and try to unwind a bit while you finish with this... mess,” she gestured to the mass of sponges, towels and cleaning products beside the bed. “When I return, I expect this room to be clean, the bed to be made, and you, in your proper place, waiting for me. And by God, you’d better have already started dinner, or there will really be Hell to pay!”

Stripping out of her clothes, Shelley entered the shower moments later. The hot water soon worked its magic as always, and slowly but surely, her tense knotted muscles began to loosen. No thanks to that rotten, no-good slutboy, she thought grimly, feeling a surge of anger. This is the third time this week he’s had some pitiful excuse for not meeting me soon as I come home. My job is stressful enough without having to deal with his drama every other day. Maybe I’ve been too soft on him... too lax in discipline. I haven’t really punished him in weeks. She slid her head back underneath the shower stream, rinsing out her hair. Turning off the water, stepping out of the shower she made up her mind.

I think it’s about time I reminded my boy who the one in charge around here really is.

* * *

Half an hour later, Shelley walked back into the bedroom. Exiting the shower, she’d changed to her normal house attire: a tight black leather corset what clenched and held her in all the right places, a matching pair of glossy thigh high boots, and a pair of crotchless black lace panties. A small black choker around her neck completed the picture, and with her hair gelled and slicked back against her head, holding the riding crop in her hands, she looked every bit the forceful Dominatrix.

She noted with approval that the room had indeed been cleaned just as she’d specified. Furthermore, the room was lit by a number of small candles, and the room was thick with the scent of sandalwood, her favorite aromatherapy oil. At the center of the room was her slave, kneeling before the bed frame in ‘Penance’ position, his wrists above his head, tied to the frame posts. For a moment, she felt a surge of emotion flood her, and she considered simply untying him, pulling him up onto the bed, and having her way with him... but with an effort she pushed the thought away.

No. I need to maintain discipline, she reminded herself. I need to show this boy that I’m the Mistress here, and he has to learn his proper place.

Aloud, she said, “Adequate. Not good... but adequate.” She ran the tip of her crop against the bare skin of his back, and she chuckled as he tensed up. “Oh? Did you think a few candles and my favorite scent would make me forget about all the transgressions you’ve committed today? No such luck. We have a standing rule here, boy,” she said sternly, tapping the crop lightly in her hand, as she stood back, preparing to strike. “You are to be finished with your chores by the time I get home,” she reminded him, striking suddenly, leaving a thin red line of pain in its wake. “Not almost done. Not nearly done. Done.” She stepped back, admiring her handiwork, each word of importance emphasized by a stinging blow to his backside.

For his part, the young man was nearly breathless with the effort of holding in his pain. He knew from past experiences that it was best to let the Mistress go until she was finished. Any begging or pleading would only earn him scorn and additional blows. His one consolation was that she was very good at what she did; despite the pain he was being forced to endure, the most he’d have to show for it in the morning would be a few small welts that would fade without scarring in time.

“...will be perfect, punctual, and prompt from now on,” Shelley went on, pacing back and forth slightly. She paused, landing another random blow, causing her slave boy to squirm slightly. “Do you understand me, boy?!?” she yelled.

“Y-yes... Mistress...” he breathed through gritted teeth. “I understand.”

“We’ll see how well you understand,” she announced, giving him one last blow for good measure before dropping the riding crop onto the bed. Moving over to her ‘Toy Box’ just inside the closet, she searched carefully for something special to use. Finding it, she smiled wickedly, taking it out. “Now then,” she said, turning back to him, “there is still the little matter of your lying to me earlier about playing that damned video game while you were supposed to be cleaning. Failing to live up to your obligations is one thing,” she said sternly, dropping down to her knees, holding the device up in front of him. ”Lying to me is a completely different matter.”

“But... I didn’t...” the man started, before hanging his head. At the sight of that hated ‘cock rocket’ toy, he’d lost his composure and broken yet another rule.

Growling, she grabbed him by his hair, yanking hard. “And on top of all of this, you have the fucking nerve to talk back to me?!?” she snarled. “At first, I thought you needed a refresher course in discipline, but now I think we need to start over again from scratch!”

Ah, shit! the man groaned inwardly, hearing her return to the closet for more ‘accessories’. If she slaps a gag on me now, it’s all over.

“Mistress,” he said softly as she returned to him, causing her to pause. “You are right. I lied to you.”

Shelley nodded, still angry but listening, perfectly willing give him more rope to hang himself with. “So, now you decide to confess.”

“Yes. I confess. I’ve been... I’ve been a terrible slave. Selfish. Prideful. And worst of all... neglectful of my Mistress.” He sighed deeply. “I should have been kneeling at the front door for you, waiting to give you the pampering you so richly deserve.” Tied as he was, he managed to run a leg lightly against the shiny black rubber of her boots, lovingly. “I don’t deserve the... the privilege of being allowed to rub and massage your poor tire feet after a long hard day of work... of hearing your sighs and coos of pleasure from my unworthy touch...”

Shelley groaned softly, mincing in place. It was as if being reminded about spending all day long in those damned high heels had started her feet hurting all over again. Her thigh high boots, normally so roomy and comfortable, felt like twin iron maidens strapped to her feet. Moving around to the side of the bed, she sat down, unzipping her boots and sliding them off, revealing her long, slender, black-stockinged legs. Reaching down, she began rubbing her left foot, grunting with the effort, trying to find the right spot, right pressure, and right rhythm that her little slave boy used to relieve the chronic pain and bring about such blessed relief. Several minutes of rubbing only added frustration to the matter, as well as tiring her shoulders from the uncomfortable position.

“It seems Mistress desires her... lowly... unworthy... slave boy’s learned touch on her feet?” the young man hazarded a guess.

At his words, Shelley started. So consumed in relieving her discomfort, she’d nearly forgotten where she was and what she’d been doing. Scowling at her slave, she slid off the bed, standing up once again. “Well, you’re half right. You are lowly and unworthy. But I don’t desire your touch. What I desire is to show you... grrr... your proper place.”

Noticing her walking with a pronounced limp, he hid a small smile. “Ah, but Mistress, as we both know, my proper place is kneeling at your feet. You know that. It’s where I deserve to be... where I’m supposed to be. Where I need to be... and where YOU need ME to be.”

Shelley groaned again, her feet throbbing now. She couldn’t stand it much longer; as much as she hated to show weakness to her slave boy, she was starting to get desperate for some relief. The need to punish her errant slave was being overwhelmed by the need to have his magic fingers doing their work on her poor throbbing peds. Sighing dramatically, she reached over and pulled loose the ropes, freeing the young man from his restraints.

“Alright, then,” she conceded gracefully, sitting back atop the bed, her legs crossed. “You do belong at my feet. Despite all of your shortcomings, you are remarkably good with your hands. So, go ahead... do your magic.” The instant she felt his hands against her soles, she sighed in contentment. “Mmmmmm... much better. But... don’t go thinking this gets you out of your punishment. Once this is over, I intend... mmmmm, that’s so good... I intend to show you... show you... mmmm... who calls the shots around here.”

“Of course, Mistress,” the young man murmured softly, working his long thin fingers deeper and deeper into Shelley’s soft tender soles. “In that, we’re in complete agreement.”

Shelley didn’t notice his comment. She was completely lost in the blissful sensations coming from her poor beleaguered feet. How could something so wonderful be coming from such a lowly part of her body, she wondered for the millionth time? She recalled vaguely that she’d asked her slave boy that same question once, and he’d rambled off a list of things he called ‘Shockers’ or ‘cocklas’ or some kind of new wave Eastern Medicine mumbo jumbo from back when he’d studied abroad in college. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that his massages were incredible. Mindblowingly incredible. He pressed deeper at a spot just above the edge of her heel and she purred in pleasure, feeling all the stress of the past few hours simply melting away.

“Mmmmmm... so nice,” Shelley said, leaning back on the bed, closing her eyes, giving in to the sensations shooting up from her pampered peds.

Her slave, smirking slightly to himself, slowed his rhythm a bit, lightening his touch, not enough to tickle per sae, but enough that Shelley could feel the difference. She moaned wordlessly, her legs shifting as a hand drifted down in between, finding the crease in her panties. His smile grew, and he slowed his massaging fingers even more.

“Nnnnnn... morrreee...” Shelley slurred, her head lolling back and forth, drunk on pleasure, and wanting more.

“Do you want me to rub harder, Mistress?” he asked innocently, pressing momentarily hard at a spot in the center of her heel.

Shelley’s eyes fluttered, a hiss escaping her lips as she nodded vigorously. “Yessss... more. Harder.”

“You want it harder, don’t you?”

“Yesss... harder.”

“You desire it harder.”

“Yess... ooohhhhhh...”

“You NEED it harder.”

“Yesssss... please...”

The young man smiled. “Since you asked so nicely... Mistress.” He began pressing harder and faster again, slowly working his way from her heels slowly up her long high pale arch, caressing and massaging the balls of her soft feet, but stopping there. Shelley continue to moan and sigh at the absence of pain and the return of pleasure, her fingers pumping away furiously in her hot wet snatch. “That feels good, doesn’t it... Mistress?” he asked ruefully, already knowing the answer. “You like the way it feels, don’t you?” Again, she voiced an affirmative.

“You love my touch. You love how it feels when I rub and caress your feet this way. It soothes you, and relaxes you... relaxes you mind, body, and soul... and lets all of your worries and concerns fade away until there is nothing but pleasure. And my touch gives you pleasure... heightens it until it becomes overwhelming. All-consuming. Irresistible.”

For an instant, he stopped, pulling back and sitting up. A cry of anguish escaped Shelley’s lips, and her eyes opened. Glassy and wide, she continued to pump wildly between her legs, trying to regain her fading blissful sensation, all in vain. “No! No, no, no, no... moooorree!” she cried, thrusting her hips up.

“Yes, yes,” the young man said drily, flexing his fingers. “You need more. Of MY special touch. Is that what you NEED? Mistress?”

“Yes... need your touch...”

“My SPECIAL touch,” the young man corrected.

“You... special touch... yesss...” Shelley moaned pitifully.

“Good. Very good. And again, since you asked so very nicely, here is your reward.”

Leaning forward, he ripped through her expensive silk stockings and resumed his massage of her now completely bare feet, stroking and caressing as much as deep rubbing, catapulting her back into euphoria. It was hardly a hardship; indeed, with a fetish for beautiful female feet, he was more than happy to give Shelley’s peds the attention they so desperately desired. His arousal climbed nearly as rapidly as hers, and he was soon glad that he’d stripped down completely before kneeling down to await his punishment. His cock made its desires known, but the young man persisted, knowing he needed to tend to the Mistress before he could tend to himself.

“Let yourself drift with the pleasure,” he intoned, pressing on twin pressure points on both soles as he spoke, “let your mind relax and drift... let all of your thoughts, all your worries and concerns drain out of you... until you are completely totally relaxed and at peace. Let yourself feel good... and let my touch make you feel even better.”

Shelley moaned and groaned her pleasure, babbling mindlessly, tossing her head from side to side. She was so close, so very close. Her pussy was dribbling juices nonstop, soaking her panties, running down her thighs, and pooling in a puddle beneath her. Normally, she would have cum half a dozen times by now, but though her pleasure and arousal continued to grow she found herself unable to push over the edge.

Sensing the time was right, the young man lightened his touch, caressing her along her arch, causing her soft bare foot to jerk wildly, flinching away at the tickle, then sliding back into place, craving contact with his touch all the more. He did it again, and a squeal escaped Shelley’s lips.

“That’s right,” the young man nodded, alternating now between rubbing and tickling the pal pristine feet before him, feeling his cock twitch in perfect time with the helpless girl’s feet. “It feels good... so good that even though it tickles, even though you can’t stand it and have to pull away, you can’t resist the need for more.” He leaned forward, bringing his lips up to her wiggling, spasming toes, planting a kiss on her right big toe.

At the instant of contact, Shelley gasped, shuddering violently. An orgasm of epic proportions slammed through her, turning her brain to mush, and flooding the bed with more of her sex juices. Her toes clenched tightly, curling into fists for several moments, until her spasms passed, leaving her winded, pleasured... but still not completely satisfied, as her arousal began to build once more, faster and higher than before.

The young man sighed softly, barely resisting the urge to stroke himself at the erotic display before him. Over the past several days he had slowly but surely conditioned his Mistress to enjoy, then desire, then crave having her beautiful sexy feet pampered by his learned touch. It had reached the point where she couldn’t cross the threshold without him stimulating her toes, her most sensitive spot, and he took great delight in drawing out these sessions, prolonging her ‘agony’ so to speak, by saving them for last. He’d been able to twist her completely around his little finger by bringing her to the razor’s edge without letting her cross over, getting her to beg and plead like a lowly slave girl for him to finish her off. The thought of bringing her even lower caused his cock to nearly vibrate with need.

“You know what you want, Shelley,” he said boldly, taking her left foot gently in his hands, bringing it up to his lips, still rubbing and caressing it lovingly with his right. “You want to feel my hot wet mouth on those soft tender toes of yours, don’t you? You want me to lick and suck and nibble on those soft tender piggies while you keep diddling away at your hot dripping sex.” He chuckled softly, sliding the flat of his tongue down along her arch, moving slowly up to the ball of her foot, stopping again short of her toes, bringing about a soul melting moan of need from Shelley. “Mmmmm. Nice. You’re so very needy right now, aren’t you? You’re nothing more than a lust-crazed little nympho, a sex-addicted slut girl, a slave to your own sex. You know what that means, don’t you? You’re a sex slave... MY sex slave.”

Shelley merely groaned, her toes opening and clenching. Her rational mind, long since overcome by the sheer force of her need, registered his words deep within her subconscious, as it always did during these ‘sessions’, filling her with perverse feelings of shame and humiliation, which strangely, only served to heighten her arousal. It didn’t matter than she was the Mistress of the house, or Vice President of a Fortune 500 company. Right here and now, in this moment in time, she was His sex slave, His humble, needy, lust-crazed, sex addicted slut girl that needed more than anything to cum her fucking brains out!

“Please!” she cried out in need, one hand mauling her breast, squeezing it tightly, while the other hand pounded relentlessly at her pussy. “Ooohhhh, gawwwwdddddd...”

“No, slave, not God,” the young man chuckled softly, climbing on the bed, spreading her legs wide apart as he moved into position. “I’m good at what I do, but I’m not THAT good.” Stroking himself once more, he lined himself up against her. “Now, be a good, submissive little slave and beg Master to fuck you.”

“Please... fuck me!”

Frowning, he removed his hands from her feet, reaching out and pulling her hand away from her pussy as well. “Uh uh. Bad girl. What did I say? Beg MASTER to fuck you. And beg nicely, or you’ll stay like this, on the edge, for the rest of the night!”

His harsh words pierced the thick sexual haze covering her brain, and Shelley understood her mistake. “Please... Master. Fuck me. Fuck your slave!”

“Adequate. Not good, but adequate,” he replied, sliding forward. His cock slid in effortlessly, and immediately Shelley wrapped her legs around him, pulling him all the way into her very core. The young man grunted, his pleasure increasing tenfold at the sensation enveloping his cock. It was all he could do to keep from cumming immediately, and with Shelley’s frenzied pursuit to bring herself off, he knew he didn’t have long. Prying her ankles apart, he managed to change their position slightly, resting her ankles on his shoulders, lifting her slightly, and returning control back to him.

Shelley, however, not to be outdone, resorted to her last and most desperate maneuver, using several months worth of kegel training to grip and squeeze her Master’s cock rhythmically from the inside. The young man groaned deeply, shuddering, feeling his orgasm looming towards him at warp speeds. Alright. Fine. I’ll concede this battle... but not the war. Bringing her feet up to his lips once more, he opened his mouth, enveloping all five of her toes at once, sucking deep and hard on each and every one.

Shelley screamed. Literally. Her body went into complete sensory overload as she came harder than she’d ever cum before, orgasming continuously, non-stop. Her Master was right behind her, and feeling his Bright bursts and sparkles danced before her sightless eyes just before her mind and body shut down completely...

* * *

“Dinner’s ready.”

Shelley yawned, stretching, as she sat up. Her head felt thick and wooly, as if it had been stuffed with cotton. Taking a moment to shake out the cobwebs, she took stock of her situation and found herself lying in her bed, naked underneath the covers. The room as dark, the illumination from the nearly gutted candles providing the only light; the sun had set long ago. She checked the clock, and groaned softly: nearly eleven o’ clock. “Damn. I napped to long,” she grumbled, yawning again. “I hope dinner isn’t cold.”

“Of course not... Mistress,” the young man added, stepping forward, placing a tray of food on the bed at Shelley’s waist. “I kept everything warm and ready for you. I anticipated that you’d be ravenous after your nap.”

Shelley nodded idly. Indeed, she was hungry. She’d obviously worked up an appetite from before... though exactly what she’d done to work off so many calories was a bit hazy...

“I was thinking,” the young man said, walking around to the other side of the bed while she ate, “after such a long hard day, you’re probably too tired to do very much tonight. It’s already eleven o’clock after all; the day is pretty much over and done with, and you have another early morning at work tomorrow. Perhaps it’s a good night to just veg out in front of the television and relax? I noticed a Netflix envelope in the mail today, and the movie you ordered finally arrived.”

“Movie? I don’t remember ordering any movies,” Shelley said with a frown, as her slave handed her the envelope. Opening it carefully, she held up the CD. “’The Story of O’? Ah... now I remember. Yes, I’ve been wanting to watch that for ages!” She paused, considering. “Alright. I suppose we can take a night off and just watch a movie. Go ahead and put it in.”

The young man smiled, putting the CD into the player and turning it on. Without a word, he moved to the end of the bed and plopped down, earning a cry of outrage from his Mistress until he rolled up the edge of the covers and began briskly rubbing her feet. “What... what do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, Mistress,” he chided her gently, “you couldn’t possibly enjoy your movie without having your slave boy pamper and fawn over you, hand... and foot?” He grinned, pressing a series of pressure points along her soft peds, causing her to coo and sigh in sleepy pleasure once more.

Eyes half-lidded, she watched the erotic footage before her eyes, listening to her slave’s comments as he rubbed her feet. Somewhere along the way she had the thought of wondering what it would be like to endure what O was going through in her training. The thought, as alien as it was to her way of thinking, caused a definite pulse of arousal, so she continued thinking along that line, fantasizing about living on the ‘other’ side of the riding crop for a change, Her arousal increased, and the thought became all-consuming to the point where she had trouble thinking of anything else. So, later on, when her slave boy asked her to get up and lean forward over the edge of the bed, she thought nothing of it, continuing to watch the moving, thinking nothing, but wishing that she could feel what O was feeling, experience the same pain and pleasure as the protagonist portrayed on the screen before her.

When her slave boy began to strike her pristine naked flesh with her own riding crop, again, she thought nothing of it, merely wishing fervently that he hadn’t tied her hands to the bedposts so that she could stimulate her wet dripping snatch.

And when he slid his hard cock into that hot dripping snatch, taking her from behind, fucking her like a mewling pitiful bitch in heat, she was practically incapable of thought, consumed by the tsunami of feelings and sensations bombarding her psyche.

Afterwards, when he ordered her to kneel before him and suck him clean, she did so naturally, without thinking about it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, sucking him off to perfection, and swallowing every drop of cum as he exploded in her mouth. She preened when he patted her head gently, telling her what a good girl she was becoming, a surge of pride sending tingles through her entire being. She didn’t say a word when he ordered her to clean up the dishes and rest of the kitchen, simply obeying as if it were completely natural.

And finally, sliding back into bed for the night, when he told her to forget watching the movie, and everything that had occurred afterwards, just as she had the times before, she again did so, as if it were second nature to her.

* * *

“Alright then,” Shelley said sternly, fixing her slave with a glare. “I expect this house to be spotless when I get home from work tonight. And I do mean SPOTLESS! You know full well by now what my schedule is by now, and what time I get home. If you don’t want a repeat of what happened yesterday to happen again, then you’d better damn well meet me at the door when I get back. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress,” the slave boy said humbly, hiding a small smile. “Absolutely, Mistress. Clear as crystal, Mistress.”

“Good.” She sighed, stretching her neck slightly. Her day hadn’t even started yet, and already she was wishing she the day was over and she was back in the loving arms of her submissive slave. “I’m leaving now. Don’t forget what I said about being ready for me when I return.”

“Of course, Mistress,” the young man said, again hiding a grin. “I’ll be ready.”

Shelley picked up her briefcase from the table, and made for the door. “Aren’t you going to wish me a good day before I leave?” she asked.

“Oh, forgive me, I almost forgot. Have a good day, slave,” the young man said.

“Have a good day, Master,” Shelley responded back, not noticing the slip as she closed the door behind her.

The young man sighed softly as Shelley’s car pulled out of the driveway and drove off. Sitting down on the couch, he grabbed the remote control. Turning on the TV, he mused to himself.

Yep, Johnny old boy, she’s coming along nicely if I do say so myself. A little more training, and she’ll be just about perfect. Sigh. Now if I could just get her to get rid of that damned riding crop...

((end))