Nylon Feet Mega Bundle

by Ella Ford

  The words spilled from my mouth without resistance or doubt. All context had been forgotten. My secretary, my practice, my partner and her patients in the office next door. All gone, all swept away by the wind of my desire.

  Kelly opened her mouth to protest, brow furrowed in obvious consternation. Had I moved too fast? Had I pushed her too far? I didn’t care. This was what I wanted, and that was all that mattered. Her mouth closed suddenly and her face relaxed, as though in relief.

  “Yes, Dr. Vickers,” she said finally, with a certainty that was mesmerizing.

  She fell silent and the room became charged with the energy of anticipation, a static charge that made the hairs on my neck stand up and sent tendrils of glowing warmth out from my pussy like streamers. She gazed at me and I stared back at her, the hunter and the hunted. Her toes curled back and forth, crumpling the nylon of her pantyhose, making a compelling motion beside my face. I turned to the side and planted a kiss on her sole, relishing the palpable shiver that ran down her leg. I realized with a gasp that her pantyhose were soaked through, damp from her sweat and my mouth. There was an ecstasy in this realization, one that I couldn’t fully comprehend, but which I embraced wholeheartedly.

  “Well, what are you waiting for,” I finally purred, “my pussy isn’t going to eat itself,” I said, like the lesbian cougar I never knew myself to be.

  Kelly sighed and blinked quickly, her eyes darting this way and that. Then she slowly pulled her foot away from me and swung her legs around, standing neatly up and walking across the office to the rug by the fire. She arrived in place and turned to face me, feet together and hands crossed at her lap. Her eyes were lowered, brow furrowed in concentration.

  I stood up from where I sat and stalked across the room with purposeful strides. I’d never realised it before, but I was a good deal taller than Kelly, an effect heightened by my heels. I stopped before her, feeling for all the world like a strict school teacher with a naughty girl to punish.

  I peered down at her and touched my hand to her chin, gently lifting her head to face me. Her green eyes were as wide as the sky and she was shaking noticeably, an expression of fear on her pretty face.

  “Are you okay, honey?” I breathed.

  “Yes, Dr. Vickers,” she replied, but didn’t sound convincing. “I just…”

  “Go on,” I said, lifting my hand to her arm and stroking her tenderly.

  “I’ve never… you know… before.”

  Her eyes glanced downwards to the closing space between us.

  “You’ve never eaten pussy before?” I replied. She flinched at the word and sighed.

  “No, Dr. Vickers.”

  Her innocence thrilled me, her reluctance was like a drug. I felt a fresh surge of anticipation sweep through my body. It never occurred to me that I shared her lack of experience, that I too had never felt a woman’s mouth on my sex, and even my ex-husband’s experiments down there had been fleeting and passionless. I was about to take her virginity, but she was also about to take mine. And in such sordid circumstances.

  “Well, Kelly, you’d better learn fast,” I said, reasoning that calm reassurance was not what Kelly needed. “Because when you graduate from my class, your place will be between my legs whenever I need you to be. When I’m done with you, my pussy will taste like apple pie and ice cream, it will be the center of your universe, your reason to get up in the morning. Do you understand?”

  She exhaled quickly, blinking hard. I felt her body tense, as though she was preparing to flee. Then she relaxed and nodded. “Yes, Dr. Vickers,” she whispered.

  “I can’t hear you, Kelly,” I said, lifting her face again.

  “Yes, Dr. Vickers,” she said, louder this time, “thank you, Dr. Vickers.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me eat your pussy, Dr. Vickers,” she said.

  “Good girl.” She shuddered. “Now, lie down on your back.”

  She nodded numbly and lowered herself to the floor, resting back on her hands, staring at my knees. With glacial movements, she lay back, stretching her long legs out before her, crossing her hands on her chest defensively. She looked helpless, prone, utterly vulnerable. With greedy eyes I surveyed the banquet laid out before me, taking in every sinful inch of her, from her stockinged feet, along the length of her endless legs, to her stomach and chest and the inviting shimmer of her lips.

  I lowered myself to a squat beside her and slowly teased my hand along her legs to the inside of her thighs. With shaking fingers, I gripped the hemline of her skirt and lifted it, revealing her most intimate area. She sighed and closed her eyes, swallowing hard. I looked on with rapt fascination at her pussy, the neatly trimmed thatch of blonde hair beneath the dark nylon, then I slowly trailed my fingers between her legs and over her sex.

  “Oh, honey,” I purred, “you’re so wet for your Mistress,” I added.

  I stopped suddenly, blinking, unsure where that had come from. “Mistress”? The name felt so wrong, so sinful, so utterly repellant. But why did it make me so hot? Why did the very use of the word send waves of pleasure from my body? I shook my head and set it aside. Of all the wrong and immoral things I would do that afternoon, this was the least of them.

  I stood up and wandered around her, circling her like a bird of prey. She watched me move, following my every step. I came to rest beside her head, then purposefully stepped over her so that I was standing directly above her face. Then I lifted my skirt, shuffling the tight material over my thighs to gather it at my waist.

  For this session, I’d chosen to wear tan thigh high stockings, and no panties. Despite my doubts, despite my fears, I knew this is where I would end up, I knew this is what I wanted, and I wanted there to be nothing in the way of Kelly giving me what I needed.

  “Do you like what you see honey?” I said, parting my legs and slipping my fingers between my thighs, spreading my labia, displaying my wet flesh to her. The feelings of domination, of control, of certainty rushed through me like a drug, thrilling me, empowering me, driving me. My lack of experience was forgotten, my fear, my self-doubt. I don’t believe in destiny, but if I did, then this would be mine. To utterly possess girls like Kelly, to bend them to my will, to own them in body and soul. This felt like the apex of my existence, what I was born for, and I never doubted my actions for a single second.

  But for all that, there was still a nervousness there, a trepidation. I felt like a tightrope walker on her first walk, knowing that I must not look down, knowing that if my certainty failed, all would be lost. I tried to push it aside, but my mind was alive with nervous musings. What would it be like? What if we got caught? What if Kelly told her Mom?

  Kelly gazed up at me, eyes locked between my legs. What feelings was she wrestling with now? I wondered. Was there doubt in her mind? Fear? Regret?

  “Yes, Dr. Vickers,” she said breathlessly, “I like what I see.” There was a brattish impatience in her voice, as though she’d waited her whole life for this moment and she couldn’t wait a single second more.

  I nodded, then bent my knees, squatting over her, resting my pussy inches from her face. I sighed as I felt her breath on my sex, felt the warmth of her skin radiating onto me. I fell forward onto my knees, pinning her arms in place with my lower legs, positioning her mouth under me. She gazed up from between my legs, her wide eyes and nose poking out from under my pussy, pleading with me to begin, begging with me to stop. The dichotomy was thrilling, intoxicating, I never wanted this moment to end.

  And then, without fanfare or hesitation, I lowered myself that final inch and smothered her with my pussy, gasping hard as I felt her lips touch me, gasping harder as the first tentative flick of her tongue swept through my sticky folds. The sensation was indescribable, like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Intense and overwhelming, an all encompassing damp warmth as Kelly began her sinful journey.

  Breathing hard, I reached down and touched her hair, fighting against my instincts and the urge to roughly grab he
r head and pull her into me. I wanted to be devoured by her, I wanted to feel her everywhere on me and in me, this little girl whose parents trusted me so implicitly. The time for shame or guilt had passed, swept aside in the deluge of desire. Now all that remained was a primal longing, the song of my destiny.

  As I struggled to control myself, Kelly’s education continued. She was a quick study, eager to please and increasingly bold. She started off with tentative probes, flicks of her tongue on my wet folds, barely touching me as she formed her mental map of this new topology. But as time passed, she gained in confidence, forming associations between my body and hers, realising that what she liked, I liked. She plunged deeper, thrusting her tongue between my labia, drawing it from bottom to top in broad, flat strokes that felt overwhelmingly hot. Her pinned arms rose to my thighs, gripping me there. I could feel her fingers stroking back and forth as her mouth did its work, lazily caressing my soft nylon stockings or the lace top and flesh beyond. She pushed against my hole, forcing her tongue into me with a boldness that made me gasp. In and out she worked, a tiny wet piston, the engine of my ecstasy.

  I felt myself responding to her provocation, hips moving in time with her tongue, nudging my aching clit against the tip of her nose, every slight contact causing ripples of pleasure throughout my body. My grip tightened as I plunged my fingers into her soft hair. I pulled her up towards me, no longer able to resist. I felt hot and breathless, dizzied by the wonderful immorality that was happening between my legs, staggered by the intensity of her attention.

  But none of this could have prepared me for when Kelly shifted her attention from my hole, kissing and sucking her way around my sex, working her way slowly to my clitoris with greedy strokes of her tongue. And when she touched me there, when she pushed down on that throbbing nub, I lifted my head and almost screamed, needing to release the pent up energy that was building inside me, needing to proclaim to the world the height of my pleasure. But I held it inside, controlled the outburst that would have ended this shameful downfall. I pushed it back, forced it into the back of my mind where the growing nexus of my approaching climax was being fed by the constant, agonizing waves of pleasure from my pussy.

  There was no let up in her attention, no opportunity to regroup, to recover myself. I glanced down and caught her gazing at me from between my legs, studying me, matching action to reaction and redoubling her attention. The sight of her there thrilled me, magnifying the pleasure that gripped me tenfold. My hands went to my breasts, massaging them roughly, feeling the sensitive weight of my nipples brushing against my bra with maddening effect.

  I reached down again and grabbed her head, pulling her face into me, burying her in my flesh. She didn’t resist, she didn’t try to pull away or cry out. She let herself be used, be manipulated, content to become my plaything, my toy, my pretty little posed doll. Her eyes closed and I felt her hands tighten on my thighs, slender fingers gripping me roughly.

  I felt the first hint of climax then, the first tingling sensation in my pussy, an inescapable urge that nagged at me and wouldn’t be ignored. My first instinct was to push it away, to resist, to prolong this moment for as long as possible, to let it built to an intolerable level. But it was already too much, the point of no return had already been crossed. I felt it build and grow, every motion of Kelly’s mouth igniting new fires in my body, setting my mind to a spin. Faster and faster she worked, deeper and deeper she probed. Her tongue moved in quick circles on my clit, from side to side, up and down, never letting up. She pushed at it, flattening it against my body; she nudged it, she sucked it, her mouth and my sex became one, working in a perfect harmony of provocation and response. And all the while, the orgasm grew and grew, barreling towards me like a runaway train that I was powerless to stop.

  And then, the universe stopped as the climax broke. I felt an indescribable surge of power rage out from my pussy. My entire body went tense, my head flew back, my neck became taut. My thighs tightened around Kelly’s head, locking her in place on my clit, my hands gripped her hair. I wanted to scream like nothing I’d ever wanted before, but I controlled it, issuing short gasps and tiny moans.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” a voice spoke from a galaxy away.

  My mind went numb, overwhelmed by the weight of sensation. I thought I might black out, I feared that I might succumb to sweet oblivion, unable to cope with the crescendo of lust that drove me so wild. Every nerve ending felt like it was afire, every inch of my skin crackled with a skein of sexual energy.

  Then it ended. I collapsed forward onto my hands, head lowered, eyes closed, panting hard. My arm and legs were twitching, small spasms as the fading ember of my orgasm cooled. I glanced down. Kelly was still between my legs, gazing back, eyes wide with a submissive adoration. Her face glistened in the late afternoon light, still wet from my sex. Her lipstick was smeared, but she didn’t seem to care. She looked like a dishevelled mannequin, a portrait of desire.

  I crawled away from her and rose to my feet, shaking on uncertain legs, and stepped over to my chair.

  “Stand up Kelly,” I breathed, barely a whisper. My voice was unsteady.

  Kelly stood and turned to face me, hands crossed before her, head lowered as though ashamed to look at me.

  “Did I do it okay?” she said. There was no act here, no pretence. She sounded as though she genuinely wanted to please me.

  “More than I could possibly ever express,” I said without thinking, gazing at her with still-hungry eyes, taking in every inch of her young body. “But the session is almost done. Tidy yourself up before you leave,” I added, turning back to my notes, trying to maintain a distant air.

  Kelly blinked and her mouth fell open in surprise. “Y-yes, Dr. Vickers,” she said quietly, a note of hurt disappointment in her voice.

  She moved quickly across the room, slipping her shoes onto her feet, tucking her blouse into her skirt. She stopped by the mirror above the fireplace and frowned, then wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her cardigan and made the best she could with her ruined lipstick.

  Then she walked slowly to the door, glancing at me nervously.

  “Th-thank you, Dr. Vickers,” she said as she reached the corner of the room.

  “That’s quite alright, Kelly,” I replied with fake disinterest. “But, Kelly, from now on, I don’t want you to call me, Dr. Vickers.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, Marie…” she offered quietly.

  “I don’t want you to call me Marie either,” I said. She looked confused. “From now on, Kelly, I’d like you to… I’d like you to call me ‘Mistress’.”

  She gasped and looked around. Then stood to attention and lifted her head. “Y-yes, Mistress.”

  And with that, my fate - and the fate of the young girl whose trust I’d abused - was sealed forever.

  Session 4

  It was eleven o’clock on the evening of the following Saturday when I was startled from a light doze by a frantic knocking at the door of my apartment. I glanced around, surprised, blinking the sleep out of my eyes, then turned to the door. Who could it be?

  Shaking my head, I stood and tied my silk robe around my waist and hurried down the short hallway corridor to the entrance of my home. Tap tap tap, the knocking came again, delicate but urgent. I reached the door and squinted into the peephole, gasping in surprise at what I saw on the other side.

  Kelly Conner, as large as life, glancing nervously up and down the hallway, then back at my door.

  I took a step back, breathing quickly, heart suddenly pounding quickly in my chest. My first thought was that Kelly had confessed everything to her parents and that the Connors were waiting outside to destroy my life for the sin of a trust betrayed. Gathering myself together, I took a deep breath and stepped back to the door just as Kelly knocked again. I leaned forward once more and peered into the peephole. No, Kelly was definitely alone, no sign of her parents. As I watched, her face fell into a frown and she turned to walk away.

  Without thinking I steadied mysel
f and opened the door.

  I caught her as she was walking off down the corridor, taking a few seconds to study the girl that had arrived so unexpectedly at my home. Her blonde hair was worn down, not held up in bunches or a ponytail this time. It was the first time I’d seen her like this, and I marvelled at how long and soft it looked, how it fell down to her waist like golden sunlight on a summer’s day.

  She was wearing a short, beige trench coat, tied around her waist with a lazy knotted belt, that reached down to her upper thighs, covering the dress or skirt she was wearing and revealing the long length of her legs in exquisite clarity. And it was her legs that held my focus most of all, clad in sheer black nylon with girly polka dots, endless and toned, finished off with the same flat shoes that she’d worn at that week’s session.

  “Kelly,” I said, stopping her in her tracks.

  She turned slowly, nervously, idly playing with the belt ends that held her coat in place. HEr face was heavily made-up, dark eyes and full lips painted glistening crimson, cheeks a-blush with a pinkish hue that reminded me of the flush of her orgasm. With a nod, she walked back up the corridor and stood before me, peering up at me despite my lack of heels.

  “Is something wrong? Did something happen?” I said with genuine concern. Does it surprise you that I was still human? That I still felt the natural reaction of a protective guardian? I was not a monster… not yet.

  “N-no,” she stammered, then paused. “N-no, Mistress.”

  I gasped. I’d forgotten about that, I’d forgotten about that sordid request, that final nail in the coffin of my morality. Why did I ask her to call me that? Really? If I stopped to analyze my actions, as I might analyze a patient, what might I find at the core of my being? What other fantasies did I harbor as well as the fantasies of control and domination? Did I want to roleplay the abuse of intimacy between mother and daughter, for example? The way I’d made her dress for her session implied maybe I did. No, I didn’t think so… I simply wanted Kelly bound to me as a subservient, I wanted to create a bond of sensual capitulation between us. I wanted her to be dependent on me, reliant and submissive. Having her call me ‘Mistress’, dressing her like a little girl, encouraging the incredulity of youth… all of this was the painted canvas of my desire.