Mistress Victoria. It seems so inadequate of a title. Goddess Victoria would be more appropriate. The smell of her perfume was the first thing to hit me when she opened the door. It conveyed a sense of elegance, yet tinged with eroticism, a tantalizing smell that is difficult to do justice with words.
As she opened the door, I forgot about her smell, so taken was I by her beauty: the perfect shape of her face, her striking blue eyes, her beautiful lips, framed by perfect blonde hair. But her beauty did not stop there. The round curves of her breasts, accentuated by the black corset she wore, pressed forth from her chest like orbs of fertility, anxious to feed and nourish all of mankind. Her hips spread from her fine waist, creating a perfect frame for her fertile mound, as of yet tucked away, hidden behind a black skirt. Her legs, strong with muscle, yet delicate as becoming of a woman of high class, stretched down to delicate feet, tucked into black leather high heels.
You can't begin to imagine my excitement as I saw her standing before me like a Greek goddess, knowing that I would soon have the opportunity to try to pay her prefect body a proper homage.
"Come in," she said simply, and I paused. She had complete mastery over the sound of her voice, rich and melodious, with a distinct Eastern European accent adding a hint of the exotic. The faintest whisper could effortlessly turn into a booming command, and the harshest of chastisements could change at her whim into the kindest, most loving term of endearment.
Remembering myself, I stepped forward, and she closed the door behind me. I immediately dropped to my knees and began to kiss her shoes, hoping desperately that she would deign to let me kiss her feet directly.
Yet she held me back. With a touch from her riding crop, she bade me to stand, and reluctantly, I did.
"I expect utter devotion from my worshippers," she said, her accent ringing in my ears like a sexual rite unto itself.
"What must I do, Mistress?" I asked, my body tingling with anticipation. How could I prove myself to her?
"Your clothes offend me," she said gently but firmly. "Take them off."
"But Mistress," I began to protest. Her finger on my lips silenced me. I took a breath and remembered my place: mine was not to argue, but to do as she bade me. I took my clothes off quickly so as not to keep her waiting and stood, ashamed of my ugliness in her presence, hoping she would change her mind and grant me the small privilege of covering my flawed body. But she had other plans.
With a smile, she stroked my hair. "This pleases me. You shall remain this way," she said, running her fingers over my head, my shoulders, my chest, my bulging belly, my inadequate cock and balls. I blushed with embarrassment and shame, but she lifted my chin and peered into my eyes through her own deep blue ones.
"You are embarrassed," she said with a knowing smile. "But I enjoy nudity." I swallowed, but before the question of her being clothed could cross my mind, she added, "Make me nude."
How could I, a mere mortal, hope to disrobe such a godly being? I hesitated, trying to think of the best way to do it. She waited on me patiently, seemingly knowing the inner turmoil I was feeling.
At last, I decided to start with her shoes. Falling once more to my knees, I pressed my head low and kissed her right shoe before gently undoing the strap in the back and freeing her foot.
Wait, what was I doing? Stupid, stupid, stupid! This was a goddess, after all! Comfort must be made paramount. I quickly found a chair and presented it to her, holding her hand as she graciously sat. Then I returned to my position at her feet and removed her shoes. Her toenails were painted red beneath them, and gossamer pantyhose covered them.
Reverently, I kissed her feet through the pantyhose and moved my lips up her legs. How else could I show the devotion to her body that welled up inside of me like an endless fountain? I yearned to have her nude, to be able to press my lips and tongue against her flesh, to somehow try to imitate the feelings I felt inside my coarse body.
As I reached the top of her panty hose, I caught a hint of her sex, and my cock instantly stood at attention. The idea that my attentions were arousing to her filled me with joy, and I eagerly awaited the time when I would be able to please her there more directly. But sticking to my duty, I reverently pulled down her hose, rolling them as I went and kissing her legs before me. At last, the hose were off, and I laid them down reverently on one of her shoes.
Next came her dress, the black cloak over her beauty. She deigned to stand for me, and I gratefully unzipped the zipper. Holding the armholes carefully, I slid it down her body slowly and reverently, gasping as each new perfect element of her body revealed itself. My lips trailed the fabric over the back of her corset until it ended, and then my lips made contact with her flawless skin, taking my breath away. Her curves, dulled by the dress, now fully revealed themselves and made her even more beautiful. Finally, her sex, framed by those beautiful curves, revealed itself, and her mound, smooth, full, and glistening with her arousal, stood like a blossoming rose in the middle of her hips.
At last, the dress was off, and she stepped from it delicately. I folded it carefully and placed it on her shoes.
Her corset came last, and once it was off, it seemed so superfluous in the first place. Where I thought that it had pressed her breasts up and out, it had in fact done nothing: her breasts remained exactly where they were, and I longed to touch them, to feel their weight, to put my lips upon them for her pleasure.
Thus disrobed, she stood, relaxed, in front of me, content in her beauty, which seemed to radiate visibly around her body. She took a satisfied breath, as if things were now as they should be, and she seemed to bask in her own beauty for a moment.
At length, she spoke.
"You have done well," she said, a slight smile of approval on her red, full lips. "You may now worship my body," she said.
I moved quickly beside her.
"But," she said with a note of warning in her voice, "I will exact my price upon you for this privilege."
"Anything, Mistress!" I gasped solemnly.
"Good," she said, taking a breath and closing her eyes, her posture proud and tall. "Begin."
My mind raced a thousand directions: there were so many perfect parts of her to pay homage to, and so little time. But I must not waste a second! I quickly decided to begin with her hands. Taking hers into mine, I caressed her fingers with my lips, feeling the soft skin and admiring the perfect polish on her nails. Slowly, I moved my lips up her palm, along her forearm, and up to her elbow. Here I paused, taking the time to encircle her arm with my caresses before moving upward again. The faint scent of her underarms lured me: not at all unpleasant, but not masked by some unnatural perfume, it was an inviting scent, a wild scent, a scent that demanded my attention. At last my lips reached that hallowed spot, and with a trembling chin, I tentatively flicked my tongue out to taste her underarm.
She sighed pleasantly at the touch of my tongue, and thus emboldened, I struck out again, this time with the intent of bringing her pleasure. I heard her moan quietly and saw her chest rise. Her pleasure excited me, and my legs began to tremble with excitement. My cock began to ooze precum at its tip. I tried to ignore it; I mustn't focus on my own pleasure now. I had to continue to please Goddess—er, Mistress—Victoria.
As I continued to lap at her underarm, a new scent slowly seeped into my nostrils, distracting me. At first I couldn't place it, but it was a clean smell, a pleasant smell. At last I discovered that it was her hair flowing freely down her back and lending its allure to the experience.
Mistress enjoyed my attentions for a while, but presently she addressed me.
"It is time," she said firmly.
"Yes, Mistress," I said willingly.
"Go," she said, pointing to a rack of implements on the wall. "Bring me the pump."
I bowed low, swallowing as I did, and moved quickly to do as she bade me. Kneeling, I presented the pump to her with my head lowered.
"Stand," she said, and as soon as I had, she fluidly affixed the pump to my cock and sucked the air from the chamber. My cock swelled inside the pump, and I winced, squeezing my eyes tightly.
"Open your eyes," Mistress commanded. "I desire to see your pain."
I did as told, but it was hard: tears welled up in my eyes as the throbbing in my cock made it feel as though it would burst.
"Good," Mistress said. "Go," she said, pointing again to her rack. "Bring me the clothespins."
I winced. My cock hurt and throbbed at the same time, and walking with it hurt terribly. I tried hard not to whimper, but it happened involuntarily. Mistress heard it.
"And bring the crop, too," she added.
I did as I was told. Mistress ordered me to lie on my back on the floor. She stood over me, putting the clothespins on and around my nipples, down the middle of my scrotum and perineum, and on the insides of my arms where they faced my torso. No single clothespin was terrible, but when combined, they provided a dull ache that spread and grew worse as time went on. My body thus prepared for her pleasure, Mistress again took her seat, placing her feet on my face.
Somehow, Mistress's perfection and my desire to please her overpowered the ache from my body, and I licked her feet passionately, channeling the pain I felt into devotion. It was with desperate need that I put my tongue between her toes and licked there, and it was with devout attention that I took each of her toes into my mouth to suckle it for her pleasure. She moaned, and I saw from my position on the floor the folds of her sex growing wetter still. But as soon as my eyes made contact with it, she kicked my face harshly.
"How dare you take your eyes from your task?" she rebuked me. "Open your mouth," she ordered as she removed her feet. I knew what was coming next, but I did as told. She spat into my mouth but would not let me spit it out or swallow it. "Hold that in your mouth," she said. "Now, go!" She pointed to that terrible rack. "Give me the speculum."
I steeled my nerves. I carried inside my mouth some of Mistress's perfection, and perhaps that could help me to serve her better. I rose painfully: the movement pulled on the clothespins, amplifying their effect on me. At least the pain in my cock had somewhat dulled as it got used to the discomfort. I fetched her the speculum, and she made me get on my knees and bend over. As soon as I did, I felt the cold metal of the speculum pushing against my ass, persistently, determinedly. It hurt, but not so much as it did once it slid in and she opened it wide. I felt suddenly cold, a rush of air flooding into my bowels, and it cramped a bit. My ass itself felt stretched to the limit, as if it would tear at any moment. But Mistress still demanded her pleasure, and in spite of my body's pain—no, because of it: because Mistress had so perfectly punished my body for its inadequacy—I desired to give her body its due worship.
As my body strained against its tormentors, I desperately licked Mistress's legs, starting at her ankles and moving upward, leaving no spot of her uncovered, and she gasped when I reached a tender spot, her wetness increasing and the smell of her arousal growing headier and headier. As I drew nearer to her fertile valley, she began to remove the clothespins. At first I was grateful, but as the blood rushed into the areas the clothespins had isolated, a new level of pain flooded my senses, and I cried out audibly.
Mistress spat into my crying mouth. "Swallow," she ordered, "and be silent."
I did as told. Somehow, her saliva calmed me and reminded me of my place. Who was I to deny a goddess her desires? With renewed passion, I embraced the pain as each clothespin came off and let it drive me into a frenzy as I neared her Venus mound, now so slick with her arousal that a bead of her juices had begun to trickle down her leg. With utter respect, I lapped up the sacred nectar.
But again she stopped me.
"Come," she said, commanding me to rise. I did so, and she put her fingers on the bulb of the penis pump. I watched nervously.
With a squeeze, she intensified the pump's effect on my cock, and I whimpered out loud. She shook her head and put her fingers to my lips.
"No more tears," she said softly. As I dropped to my knees, she drew my head to her breast, soft like a pillow but surprisingly firm enough to hold my head without effort.
"Suck," she said, and I did. My lips latched onto her nipple, and my tongue flicked across the surface. With no effort at all, I elicited a gasp from her, and with another flick of the tongue, a moan. I felt the heat of her sex intensify beneath me, and my cock painfully reminded me that it was in the chamber. But I could not stop now! Mistress was enjoying herself, and I needed to continue. Bringing my teeth down carefully upon her nipple, I heard her gasp, and I felt her body writhe in ecstasy beneath me. I bit harder.
Throwing my body off of hers, she reared back and backhanded me as hard as she could. It knocked me over, and I saw stars.
"Too hard, you asshole!" she yelled at me. Taking up her crop, she began to beat my ass and back violently. At first I tried to squirm away, but I remembered that I deserved this, and at last I lay still. Seeing me accepting my punishment pleased Mistress, and she stopped beating me.
"Come," she said again, holding out her arms. I rushed to embrace her, and she Mistress released my cock from the pump. As she softly stroked my hair, telling me "good boy," I felt the tears well up in my eyes before falling unhindered down my cheek. I sobbed, a combination of relief from pain, desire, and devout appreciation driving the sobs from me. When I quieted down, it felt as though all the pain had drained from me, leaving only a deep appreciation for her sublime ministrations. She was truly a healing goddess.
"Now receive your reward," she told me.
"Oh, thank you, Mistress!" I said eagerly as I dove for the part of her that had called to me for so long. The taste of her nectar was sweet, and the sounds she made as I eagerly lapped at her folds made my cock hard and sore once again. But at this point, I didn't care: I needed only Mistress's approval and pleasure now. As Mistress gasped and her fertile valley poured forth with her orgasm, I felt my cock throb, aching, until my own orgasm burst from it. I panicked.
"I'm so sorry, Mistress! I didn't mean to!" I cried desperately.
"Shh," Mistress said soothingly. "This pleases me," she said as she brought my head to rest on her perfect breasts.