My aunties dark side

My name is James Marshall. I grew up in Chicago on the south side. A pretty rough part of town full of gangs and violence. To keep me out of all that, my mom insisted I work hard through school. It worked since now at 18 I had been accepted into a special college in San Francisco, the SFC school for gifted writers. I was excited and so was my mom. She said she only knew one person out there. Her name was MS Carlson, the white lady mom used to house clean for.

The two women had kept in touch, Christmas cards and such ever since MS Carlson moved out west. The two were very close when mom worked for her. As a kid, MS Carlson always insisted I called her Aunt Marsha and I did. She must be around 38 or so now. Mom called her and Aunt Marsha said she’d be delighted to house me during my schooling. Things were set, and that week I was on my first plane ride.

The SF airport had people of all sorts walking around. I hardly remembered what Aunt Marsha looked like. Then, a tall, tanned, long dark haired woman who looked like she just stepped off a movie shoot smiled at me, waved and said, “You must be little Jimmy, welcome.” I hadn’t been called little Jimmy for years and knew at once that this fine woman was MS Carlson, my dear sweet, long lost Aunt Marsha.

We hugged and I felt like a child in her arms. She’d always brought out her nurturing warmth towards me. Things hadn’t changed one bit. She began asking me about my mom and revisiting old time between them as we got my luggage. Outside we took a taxi to the hills where she lived.

Her home sat alone on a private street. The nearest house was nearly two blocks away. All the land between them was hers. I never knew what she did for money but from the outside of this mansion, she was good at it. Inside there was a large foyer loaded with pricey adornments and art work. Some of these things I’d seen in a required art class I’d taken. Some stuff was, I learned latter, made just for her.

She took me upstairs and led me to my room. It was larger than my mom’s apartment. She left me to unpack and said to meet her later on the patio. After a shower I put on a clean T-shirt and shorts. I was in CA, so I threw on some shades.
Aunt Marsha was sitting on a chase lounge talking on the phone. She had changed herself, now wearing a white midriff shirt which strained to hold back her 40DD breasts. She also wore a thong which revealed her firm sexy legs. For a woman who stood only about 5’5”, she sure filled out that lounge.

She smiled as I approached and pointed to a chair near her feet. That was just fine by me as the one thing I was a fool for was a sexy pair of feet. Aunt Marsha sure filled the bill. She had on a pair of high heeled strapless sandals. Her bright shiny red toe nails reflected the afternoon sun. She had her feet hanging over the end of the lounge and was slapping one shoe against her sexy sole again and again as she talked.

The more she got engrossed in her conversation, the faster she wiggled her foot. Suddenly, she shrieked in laughter and flung her sandal across the tiled patio floor. I looked at her naked foot and was hooked on her feet at once. While fantasizing about what I would like to do with it, I heard my name. “Jimmy,” she whispered with her hand over the phone, “could you get that for me please?” She used her naked foot to point towards her sandal lay. Then as if expecting me to obey she returned to her conversation.

Slowly I began to stand. I placed my hand near my crotch to hide my stiff penis. She had been the source of my condition, yet I was scared she’d freak out seeing it. I bent with my back to her and picked up her sandal. I could not resist lifting it to my nose for a quick sniff. Light rose scented warmth filled my nostrils. Another sniff and I just had to sneak a taste. Using only the tip of my tongue I swiped at the surface where her foot had been. I was lost in a moment of bliss when I felt a close presence behind me. Still kneeling I turned to see Aunt Marsha standing there. The sun behind her and a soft wind flinging her long hair about her made her appear to be an angel. She was smiling down softly at me. Her eyes were gentle. She spoke with a reassuring tone, “Enjoying yourself Jimmy?”

I felt like the deer caught in the headlights of a car. I didn’t know how long she’d watched me. I didn’t hear her end the phone call. I was still holding her sandal to my face. Words were not forth coming from me. Then she said, “It’s ok little one. My feet have been affecting men and women the same way for quite some time now. I’d never of thought you’d succumb so quickly, but I knew, or at least hoped you staying here would bring you to your knees.”

Then she lifted her leg and stood on one foot. She used her bare foot to gently caress my face. I held my head still enjoying the touch. She was graceful as her lovely toes slid under my chin and up to my ear. Next she used the bottom of her toes to open my lips. I began to extend my tongue and just as it was about to make contact she withdrew her foot. “No not yet. You must prove worthy to taste my feet first. Follow me inside and I shall teach you how to fulfill your desires.”

She took her sandal from my hands and turned walking away. For a minuet I remained as she’d left me in total shock. Then I stood and walked behind her into the kitchen. She stood near a door which I assumed to be a pantry and said, “Behind this door is a world in which a slaves dreams come true. The tests and labors you must learn to endure will lead to a constellation of pleasures for you at the feet of not only me, but countless others as well. The journey is difficult and at times painful. The lessons must be completed as offered without hesitation. Once you begin you may never withdraw no matter what. Remember your goal always and you’ll endure. Jimmy, this is your only warning and also the only chance you’ll EVER have to gain permission to enjoy my feet. If you think you can survive and reach eternal foot bliss, strip, kneel and kiss my feet and enter. Otherwise you can just continue your education and dream of what could have been, without benefit of my feet and your potential pleasures.” She opened the door slightly. I stripped and knelt my lips passionately grazing her toes.

Behind the doors was just about every kind of BDSM toy, utensil and contraption imaginable. I’d seen sex films and such, but never such an extensive collection. Whips of various lengths, long black straps and paddles hung neatly on a wall. An examining table with straps and cuffs on both ends stood near center room. Chains and hooks hung from large bolts from the ceiling and back wall. I was nearly about to turn and run out of the room and her house. No one was ever going to bind me up and get their freak on using me. It was just about that time her hand found my hanging cock.

She milked it with a soft touch and I melted. Gripping it, she led me towards a mat on the floor. “Lay down on your back, foot slave, and we shall begin.” Blinded by lust and the feel of her hand, I obeyed. She used cuffs to capture my hand and attached them to a floor bolt above my head. She then pulled my right leg away from my body and wrapped a soft ankle cuff around it and affixed that to another bolt. My left leg was bound likewise. Being helpless she stood and placed a metal folding chair over my stomach. Sitting down she bared her feet and used them to smother my face. I was afforded the pleasure of sniffing and licking those lovely size sevens from heel to toe. Each sniff was my pleasure. Each lick thrilled me. She constantly smiled down at me as I licked between her toes. Her feet were soon soaked with my saliva.
She stood and moved the chair back up just above my head. She then went and put something in her hand. It was small but her fist concealed it from me.

After retaking her seat, she used her soft moist feet to toy with my long rock hard cock. She was an expert at the art of giving foot jobs. She’d drag her lovely red toe nails through the course kinky hairs around my groin. When I’d thrust my hips between her soles she’d squeeze them together. My sensitive bloated cock head slide between her toes. If felt tighter and fulfilled me more than any pussy my cock had been in. As I was on the very edge of resistance, she unclamped her feet releasing their hard prisoner. I groaned and begged for release, my cock sticking straight up waiving at her. I knew she could hear me yet she neither complied nor answered.

As my breathing became somewhat back to normal, her tormenting feet resumed at my hard member and adorned it. This time I was not to be denied release. I pumped my hips driving my cock through her soft feet. My ass slammed back down against the canvass mat. She would tighten and loosen her grip. Then she would release my cock and used all ten toes to tease my tight ball sack. This was extreme torture. My hips still thrust and my cock fucked the air. She next kicked the head of my dick with the balls of her feet. Like playing ping pong she used one foot then another to slap my cock from left to right. I was in a place between pain and pleasure. My will was to endure her actions at any cost as I had to have those punishing feet in my mouth again.

She bent and her hand toyed with my left nipple. Only once had a girl done that to me. It was alright, but did little to excite me. This time my Aunt Marsha made me feel different. As again she engulfed my stiff cock between her toes, she strummed her fingers over that nipple. I began to enjoy the attention. It somehow added fire to my loins. I felt sort of like a school girl the first time a boy touched her breasts. She tugged and tweaked at it until it grew hard as a diamond. Then with out warning she snapped an alligator clamp directly on the hard tip. I yelped like a kicked puppy. She tugged it upwards and twisted it. My eyes flooded in response. As if that wasn’t enough, she quickly snapped a clamp on my other nipple. I could not believe the fire in my chest. Even her constant foot play at my cock took second place in my thoughts.

Without mercy she grabbed each clamp and began a series of yanking and twisting. I withered and twisted on the floor trying to escape the pain. She was relentless in her efforts. She’d removed her feet from my cock. It mattered not to me. I was growing soft there anyway. She was ruff and mean towards my sore nipples. It was as if she was getting off on the act. I grew tired of trying to get away from the pain and finally just laid there accepting it. Surprisingly, I’d begun to welcome the pain. Almost thinking it as a welcomed friend. This was her intent. She knew I’d surrender eventually, she’d done it to many people before. I was no different to her. I wasn’t “little Jimmy” to her anymore. I’d become just another of her slaves who paid for such treatment and worse. She was the most sadistic woman on the west coast, or at least that’s the way many paying customers saw her.

She’d earn that title. She made enough money at it to own the house she lived in. She’d been doing this since her first add in a sex for pay newspaper this city is full of. She was small and unknown at the start. Soon her clients included movie stars, politicians, law enforcement officials and at one time, even a retired governor. She rarely had intercourse as she got off inflicting pain at those who she taught to crave it, if they didn’t already.

When she finished with my nipples she went and got a metal dildo. It was attached to an electronic box of some sort. After lubing the shaft she bent and shoved it deep up my anus. I groaned at the intrusion of my virgin territory. She then turned the chair to face me and sat down. Her feet again slid over my face. No pain or intrusion could deter me from enjoying the objects of my desires. I paid oral homage to her feet like a child in a candy store. She’d bend and occasionally yank at the nipple clamps. I greeted the attention with new found pleasure. Then just as my ass grew accustom to its visitor she reached down and mashed a red button on top of the metal box.

A sudden jolt of electricity shot through my prostrate. My cock involuntarily jerked and the orgasm it produced was stronger than I ever thought possible. The sheer force of it sent sperm flying all over the room. The intensity of it caused me to pass out with her toes still in my mouth. When I woke up, Aunt Marsha was gone and I was still on my back bound. The dildo and nipple clamps were removed and my cock lay flaccid on my stomach, still dripping its seed.

Thus ended lesson one. I was left to await further training. I longed for it.

THE END of part one.