The Way Of An Anatomically Challenged Masochist

It has been said that ultimate truth is a very personal thing; that few
things can be secured with universal approval as being absolute. The
debate regarding the validity of this proposal is replete with numerous
musings and compelling, rational thought. Suffice to say that worthy
individuals such as you and I do, as often as possible, attempt to
create and control our own present and future circumstances and having
succeeded even to a small measure, know with certainty, that it is a
“real” and secure thing. Such is the case for Deanna Winston, a most
worthy, enduring, and highly unusual presence – extremely and shockingly
so, as we shall discover – in the universe of 1989, where the first
scene of her story begins.
She is making her way through the bustling pedestrian traffic of New
York’s Fifth Avenue, on her way to the office of Dr. Marsha Kline, known
within her profession as a renowned but rather mysterious expert in the
fields of female hormone disturbances. She is also highly regarded for
her occasional forays into plastic surgery. Dee is in desperate need of
Dr Kline’s services and has managed to steel her nerves for the visit
and the particularly intimate and unusual examination she knows is
Dee is one of those rare women that though not beautiful falls into
that other meaningless category of very attractive. However, if it is
true that “pretty is as pretty does,” then Deanna Winston can be
regarded as one of the world’s most dazzling goddesses of beauty and
pulchritude. Discarding the extreme proportions of her unbelivable
hourglass figure, she would still be an imposing presence in most
companies. Her five foot eleven inch height is solidly distributed on a
medium-heavy frame. The only significant fat she possesses is
distributed massively in her breast and buttocks.
One of the many accommodations necessary to adapt to her evolving
abundance, is daily strengthening rituals, especially her shoulders,
back and legs. Accordingly, her long legs, extremely strong back and
abdomen are well defined by larger than average, almost perfectly honed
muscles. Her skin exhibits a smooth, pale complexion. This is because
she usually keeps herself well covered in order to hide a multitude of
old and new scars, welts, punctures and other bondage residues that have
very much been her pleasure to collect during the last twelve years.
Some are livid evidence of what must have been extremely savage beatings
and “abuse”. Most in fact, were administered by herself and her mother.
Others were contributed by her only two high school friends. Only one of
the latter stays in touch on rare occasions.
Being the unremitting masochist that she is, self-inflicted pain and
public humiliation have been her principal recourse during the last five
years. Many opportunities were possible for the inclusion of other
interested parties to put Dee through the paces. She rejected both the
overt and covert offers with politeness and occasionally, with
questionable regret. None of the people offering themselves seemed to
possess the special characteristics she intuitively knew she required.
Dee is a paradoxical presence. Her body, despite its obvious
disproportion, projects a real as well as perceived strength. Curiously,
her demeanor exhibits a combination of resolve and self-confidence, in
concert with a passive-like submissiveness. It is not a complicated
state of affairs. Quite simply, she has long had the ability to
recognize that her public and private affairs are separate slices of her
life. She reigned over both with total control, switching from one to
the other as circumstances, needs and desires dictate. She is the
ultimate feminist, willing to fight viciously for any and all
opportunities to have a choice in a matter. However, given the
opportunity to make the choice, she will not, does not, suffer the value
judgements of others, especially the deluded, self-proclaimed protectors
of her gender. She is Deanna Winston first and foremost. All else,
especially her gender, were less than secondary.
At the moment, Dee’s large, oval, hazel-blue eyes – which rarely gaze
directly at another pair today – expose a persona of humiliation and
suffering. It is real and it primes the pump of her now dribbling cunt.
She licks her medium thick lips, which contour a wide, expansive, but
very proportional mouth. The trained eye knows this mouth has the
potential to absorb a lot of girth. It also has the potential to exhibit
frequent and wonderfully broad and sincere smiles. An astonishing range
of suffering and intense, sensual agony are also frequent visitors to
her uniquely expressive eyes and mouth. Her longish, nervous tongue
exposes itself briefly to moisten her rapidly drying lips in
anticipation of the struggle that is immediately forthcoming. A sharp
erotic pang strikes the center of her bottomless pussy. Her head jerks
back in response, causing her thick, slightly wavy,
shoulder-blade-length, auburn hair to fly sideways.
Deanna Winston is indeed an awesome sight. She easily turns the heads
of men and women whenever she is in public. One could follow her out of
sight, simply by the sound of screeching brakes and the occasional loud,
insulting hoots from the men and the silent but equally penetrating
bete-noire stares from the women. Such frequent belittlement has been
her fate since age ten when her early budding breasts exploded to a size
35C within ten months. By the time she had just turned twelve they had
zoomed to 42DD. A visit to the family Doctor revealed that she certainly
had a severe hormone problem. Medication required to halt the condition
was not available. A breast reduction was not advised until physical
maturation was complete and all growth had ceased.
On the day of her fourteenth birthday, her mother treated her to the
choice of any skirt and blouse combination she wished. Off the shelf,
dresses were out of the question due to the extreme nature of her
figure. Moreover, her mother was not able to afford custom-made clothes.
By this time, Dee was fast outgrowing even the larger sized off-the-rack
blouses. She was five feet, five inches tall and was exhibiting the
evolution of an extremely voluptuous figure. Her unusually small 22 inch
waist was perceived as tiny when viewed in concert with her 38 inch hips
and ass. Finding a nice skirt was much less challenging than selecting a
matching blouse. Why? Because in the two year interim since age twelve,
she had expanded from a 44DD to a 51EEE which necessitated a 48FF bra.
This was close to the maximum size her mother could find locally. It was
also becoming more painful to wear – much to Dee’s increasing
satisfaction. Her hormones continued their physiological anarchy into
her fifteenth year.
A couple of months after Dee had turned sixteen, her mother decided
that another trip to the Doctor was absolutely necessary. This was
essential in part, because of the unrelenting growth of her breasts and
the equivalent growth of Dee’s genitalia which had also begun to
manifest itself at age ten. She was also deeply disturbed and confused
about Dee’s “abnormal” behavior. At that time, Dee’s bust and other
wildfire, hormone-fed anatomical “blessings” had evolved to an appalling
Later, about age eighteen, her biological mechanisms began slowing
towards a “normal” situation. Within a year, she stopped growing.
However all hell broke loose again at age 24, six months ago. She was
now an absolute human anomaly.
Crossing over East 49th Street, she literally creates a Red Sea parting
of the pedestrians in her proximity. Harried businessmen and women, as
well as school children, casual shoppers, and the few panhandlers
present, find themselves automatically sidestepping as Dee approaches
them. Almost all, turn left or right and stare in goggle eyed amazement.
She has long had the capacity to create these omnipresent humiliating
gauntlets, which are populated by all manners of leering, gawking, often
taunting, occasionally propositioning, citizens. Most of these people
are, in fact, very honorable, considerate, citizens. At worst, they
would only sneak a glimpse at the occasional presence of an unusual
person in their mist. However, with Dee they HAVE to stop and stare.
Some sling humiliating comments and insults at her, that, under ordinary
circumstances, they would never think of uttering. In fact, Dee’s entire
physical and psychological being compels them to stare. Some feel
compelled to verbally abuse and mentally rape and torture her.
Dee knows this will happen, but being extremely shy, modest,
unassertive and non-confrontational, endures it with only occasional
tears, quite, choked-back sobs and rare eye contact.
The biggest problem for Dee in public circumstances is not the
occasional seepage from her eyes, but the almost constant seepage from
between her legs, once these gauntlets begin, which is usually as soon
as she leaves her apartment. She experiences real fear and trepidation
each time she has to be in public. The inevitable humiliation is truly
dreaded. It is in fact, a small terror that only serves to infuse her
libido before she even opens the door. Her passion and carnal devices
often take possession of her once she is on the street. This rutting
mind fuck produces greater humiliation, which of course, hones the
cutting-edge pangs of her growing lust. To make matters worse, today,
she has to walk over a mile. After managing 49th Street, there are still
several blocks to traverse before she arrives at Dr Kline’s office.
The only reasons that Dee has not gone mad from this humiliation is
because of the persistent, and extremely brutal training and guidance
provided by her mother until Dee was nineteen years old. Equally
contributing was Dee’s own psychology, and inner strength. Lately and
especially today, (a lengthy, degrading walk such as this, in such
crowded circumstances) has her at a fever pitch. She is just before
starting to actually gush from her constantly seeping, obscene sized
cunt. She has to dig deep in her arsenal of strength. The crowds are
thicker and her quickened pace to be on time has caused the inevitable
independent movements of her massive tits. They are the principal visage
that has altered the crowd’s attention and behavior.
Like most women with oversized breasts, Dee often attempts to downplay
their size by wearing dark oversize blouses – now almost impossible to
find off the shelf, and over-large vest or jackets. By now, it is
impossible to hide the independent planets that constantly attempt to go
into independent orbits of ever changing directions. God knows what
havoc would take place if she were not wearing the single tailor-made
bra that she was finally able to buy after saving for three months.
It could actually be classified as a harness, in that it was
constructed of heavy canvas intermeshed with thin stainless steel. No
frills here, just pure utility, which is decreasing monthly. The upper
cup-supports are half-inch thick stainless steel loops that are triple
sewed to the wire/canvas mesh with thin stainless steel wire that is
covered with a layer of patent leather. The diameter of the cup openings
where these loops are located, is eight inches. This used to be a
perfect fit for the upper expanse of each breast. However, during the
last six months they have become too small. Lately, each steel loop is
over-lapped by a substantial amount of breast meat that quivers and
undulates at her slightest movement. Today, the escaping flesh is very
noticeable as two independent blouse bulging masses, the top four inches
being visible above the pressure-lost top button of the blouse. It
billows to the bottom of her neck. All of her vests and jackets are much
too small too even attempt to wear. She has to depend on the blouse and
the bra to maintain their integrity and to contain their colossal
Each cup of the harness/bra is connected by thick patent leather, which
is secured by five layers of thin stainless steel stitching. Four-inch
wide, heavily padded shoulder straps, connected at the top of the cups,
intersect into a single two-inch wide strap below her shoulder blades.
It is looped through a brass D-ring stitched to the bottom rear of the
bra, which extends to just above her 45-inch ass. This corset-like
portion of the bra extends to just above her pubes in the front. Thus,
we have a garment that covers the entire torso. To function, it must be
connected at the front, via a severe clinching of metal stays and the
dangling rear strap.
This two-inch wide slightly elastic strap which is the extension of the
shoulder straps, hangs from the rear center of the bra, just above the
terminus of her tight ass cleavage. After exiting the brass D-ring, it
drapes over her rotund ass, gradually widening to six inches at the
bottom of her butt, where it tapers back to a two-inch terminus. The
last six inches of the strap consist of a stainless steel cover. This
cover contains a series of metal projections that face outward.
In order to put this torture device on she must first drop the whole
affair over her head. Then, she must bent over and reaching at total arm
length, attempt – with increasing difficulty lately – to get each huge
dangling, swaying breast in its proper cup. Accomplishing this, she must
now somehow keep her still unrestrained, heavy hanging monsters away
from her torso, in order to clench in the front stays on the front
portion of the bra. One way she can accomplish this to wrestle each
25-plus pound cup-encased sac over her shoulders. Then, standing as
still as possible in a slight bent back position, to prevent them from
sliding off, she begins the ordeal of clinching in the metal stays.
Lately, they have grown to such an extraordinary extent, that they
frequently roll off her too-narrow shoulders, landing with a heavy slap
against her chest, abdomen and hips.
There are ten connecting devices running down each of two, five-inch
wide metal strips that have been welded to the front of the (as yet)
unconnected front panels of the bra. Each open panel is attached to the
bottom of the cups just above her waist. Thus, it would resemble an
unbuttoned vest, that had been attached to the bottom of the permanently
connected cups.
The only effective way to create the degree of support needed is to
ratchet the thin flexible strips located (riveted) on the front of the
left panel, through metal receiver loops located on the right panel.
This was the tricky, painful part. Each of the receiver loops had a
small hex screw at its top. Dee has to manually thread each half- inch
wide, ribbed, flexible strip, through its opposing receiver loop on the
opposite panel. The metal strip was then ready for tightening, by
inserting a special wrench over the hex nut and turning until the proper
amount of constriction is attained.
Dee has a natural 24-inch waist, which at over five feet eleven inches
and combined with a monumental 45 inch rotund ass, presents an awesome
sight. However, the effectiveness of the bra/harness requires that she
cinch herself down to an almost impossible, agonizing, twenty-one
inches. And, this was when she first started wearing the device. Now,
because of her last six-month ordeal of raging hormones and the
resultant increase of her already obscenely huge sacs, she must ratchet
herself down to tear emitting twenty inches.
This part of the process takes over a half an hour to complete. It
requires that she ratchet a little at a time, working up and down in
sequence. The front of the garment stops just above her pubes,
compressing her thick mat of black, navel high cunt hair as flat as
paper. Once this rather severe, self implemented, but necessary bondage
is completed, her breathing becomes somewhat strained and limited. She
loves it. It is an adjustment she has learned to make, whether at work,
or attending to other personal affairs. However, the requirement of
tightening an additional inch causes her to gasp rather frequently and
to forcibly feed her starving lungs by consciously gulping as deep as
possible and engaging in hyperactive breathing. This is especially true
when she begins to move. Walking is especially stressful.
After completion of the ratcheting process, she must complete the most
dreadful part of this one-hour total dressing process. In order to
actually get her massive tits up off her torso to some degree, she must
reach between her legs and draw the rear dangling strap up between the
crack of her ass and over the six inch wide mountain of her obscenely
large and hormone inflated vulva. More shocking is the fact that her fat
usually slippery vulva is the residence of a now half-erect, still
mostly hooded clitoris. It is a clit of such monumental proportions that
some readers may wish to exit at this point rather than face up to the
organic reality that nature can take, even if only once in billions of
sets of possibilities. Medical journals are replete with the most
hideous of oddities. Poor Dee, as noted, is an extreme case of genetics
gone asunder. No matter, her prodigious anatomy will not be ignored.
Besides, as we will see, she is much more than mere ectoderm.
Before pulling the cup-hoisting strap in place, Dee must cram her huge
and still growing vagina with several highly absorbent hand towels. This
is enables her to soak up as much of the cunt drool as possible. Lately
even two towels do not seem to be enough. She knows she will end up
leaking her hot effusions before she even leaves the apartment.
Hopefully the towels and the severely tight bra strap will dam the mess
up long enough to enable her to reach her destination.
The painful but necessary bondage of the harness/bra, the inevitable
public humiliation and sheer physical sensations will definitely drive
her to a sensual fury. The intensity will increase when her tits and ass
begin their uncontrollable, tossing gyrations. She loves the weighty
feel of her tits and the intense erotic sensation of the swaying and
trouncing they give each other and her torso. As always, it will be a
challenge not to cum during her walk. Added to this sweet agony will be
the pulling, tearing and constant chafing that the bra/corset will
inflict on her. However, as much as her tits will eventually sway and
toss, without it she would surely be arrested as a public nuisance or
exhibitionist. She did not really wish to exhibit herself to the extent
she was getting ready to do so. She knew the embarrassment and public
humiliation would further drive her into a heated frenzy. Thus, she must
always prepare accordingly and use the towels.
After the towels were inserted, she must pull the strap with almost all
her strength to get her tits to begin lifting up via its attachment to
the shoulder straps. Due to her recent growth, she is just able to get
the upper metal studded end of the strap into its corresponding, hex-nut
receiver slot at the bottom of the now-closed front panels.
A larger wrench is required to ratchet the strap upward through the
other receiver slots. Each agonizing inch results in a corresponding
half-inch lift of the metal meshed cups. When the monsters are up far
enough to project outward almost twenty incredible inches, she has to
stop. The pressure on her anus (one of the few things below her waist
that is of normal human dimensions) is too agonizing. Her obese pussy
lips have started to mush out of the sides of the six-inch wide portion
of the strap.
“AHHHHEEE… unhhh… OHH God almighty, I’m not going to make it to the
Doctor’s office. I will cum in front of everybody. Ahhh, it hurts so
well. Well screw it! I will make it. Mama taught me how to get through
situations like this. I will damn well get there without cumming, even
if I have to leave a constant trail of slime behind me like last week’s
trip to the store. Jesus, it was so humiliating to be ordered out of the
store in front of all those haughty, ignorant bitches and drooling
bastards. I should have waited for the dryer to finish the last basket
of towels instead of just stuffing one up my stinking trench and being
in a hurry. Damn, what a mess. But as close as I nearly did so, I did
not cum, even after the bitch of a manager shoved me out the door so
hard I landed on my ass.”
Though shy and unassuming with others, Dee was especially brutal with
herself. Not out of guilt or an ignorant psyche, but because a very
large part of her world was focused on the want and need to suffer. She
would see to it that she did. Her strength was that she could do so, at
least in part, through ordinary day to day circumstances. She had
learned certain controls from her mother and had agonizingly learned how
to apply them to the extent that she was able to earn a two year
computer technician degree from her hometown Community College. This
enabled her find a nice job in New York City, 90 miles from home.
“Unggg!!!… Hard to breathe; but I am gonna have to get these sacs up
at least one more inch so that they will at least be even with my waist.
Damn!, I’ve always loved my unique body, but this growth has got to
stop. It was bad enough six months ago when the lady at the custom bra
shop said my tits were 82 inches and this torture bra was equivalent to
a 76HH. There’s no telling what size they are now. God knows how many
hatpins I could accommodate now. Fifty in each areola last week but had
to stop, knowing about this appointment. She might not want to take me
if she knew what a ‘pervert’ I was. But that was silly, she is gonna see
all these other marks anyway.”
Dee smiled at the “pervert” tag she had applied to herself. It was
actually the rest of the world’s pronouncement, given out of the
universal human need to stamp all things understood or not with a label
of good or bad and to draw up consequences accordingly. Society and
cultures demand a norm and anything outside of that, no matter how close
to the periphery, was suspect at best. Thus, these days Dee did not find
herself in a Public Square impaled on a stake or broken on a wheel as an
abomination to mankind or God. Now, she was simply gawked at by everyone
and tormented with a variety of humiliating comments and occasional
gropes. She carried the heated results of the humiliation home with her.
They were an added ingredient to all manners of rather crude,
unsophisticated methods of self-abuse. These lengthy auto-erotic ordeals
often resulted in no less than 10-12 intense cunt spurting orgasms a
Crying in real torment, she just manages to squash her overly
compressed cunt lips outside the strap another bit while gaining another
inch of tit lift. They now rest just above her navel and heave out
almost 22 inches. Each expands a good deal beyond the outside perimeter
of her arms. This is why she has to walk. They long ago became a total
hindrance to driving a car. Taxis are just too expensive.
Worst of all and most challenging to her control not to cum during this
torture trek, is the fact that the cunt strap, which has compressed her
major and minor labia to a dangerous degree, has mushed her half rigid,
huge clit downward into the region of her vagina, not stuffed with
towels. The massive root has no more room to grow but will strive to do
so with every step she takes. “Lord give me strength” she mutters
whipping her tears. Knowing she has a long walk ahead of her, she
decides to wear her most full skirt and largest dark blouse.
Unfortunately, the only skirt available is a tan one that was given as a
gift. She was going to exchange it for a darker one but had not gotten
around to it in time. “Oh lord,” she mutters almost prayerfully, I hope
the towels hold, otherwise it will look like I peed all over myself
before I get there.”
She wears three-inch heels in lieu of the five, six, or even 7-inch
heels she possesses and prefers. She is a raving foot fetish and
particularly enjoys wearing too small, toe crunching, open and
closed-toe high heels. Despite her formidable anatomy, she and her
mother were determined that she master the ability to wear the torturous
footwear. It took her almost six months of sometimes crippling agonizing
effort – in public – to manage the feat (a pun, my word, sorry) but
success was actually a given. Due to the unusual length of her long
angular toes, Dee is forced to seek out a size 13 for a perfect fit.
However, most of the footwear in her full closet are a half and full
size to small. On special foot-only, self-abuse sessions (several times
a week), she will wear her unique “ped pain providers” (“triple P’s” –
her tag) which she designed herself and paid dearly to be crafted by one
of Manhattan’s most skilled cobblers.
Though in great pain, and full tilt humiliation, Dee strides past Saint
Patrick’s Cathedral in her struggle to make the last block. Crossing
51st Street, she looks the absolute freak at an approximate 80 some-odd
inches x20x45. She is now sucking great gulps of air very rapidly, in
response to her physical efforts and her efforts to repress a boiling
need to cum.
The rags are saturated and she can feel the warm syrup rapidly running
down her bare legs. Soon it will emerge below her hem and pool around
her ankles, in her shoes and begin trailing on the sidewalk like in the
grocery store. Equally worst, the front of her skirt is showing a
noticeably dark stain. “Oh hell, I have got got to hurry or I’ll be a
soaking mess in front of everybody. At least in the Doctor’s office
there will only be a few people.” Hardly able to breathe, her tits
swinging wildly back and forth with such a force that the original six
inch exposed upper cleavage is now an eye popping ten inches. Their
ponderous gyrations are so exaggerated her lower chin is swallowed
during upward bounces. Another two buttons have disappeared, exposing
the upper four inches of the torture bra itself along with a vast
expanse of vibrating flesh across its horizontal extent. She does not
have time to care. She is now trotting at a very rapid pace. The cunt
cream is at her ankles and she is just before screaming out a violent
It is all just about too much to bear. The surging, wildly flopping
milk sacs rip all of the buttons off her blouse only 100 feet from the
door. All in her proximity are utterly speechless. The blouse flies open
exposing the entire front of the clenched in foundation garment and the
incredible tiny waist. Worst, over a foot of her tits is now on fresh
pudding-wobbly display, succeeding in their almost conscious effort to
escape the torturous confinement. The straps are jerked violently
causing the cunt strap to somehow pull tighter forcing the freak clit to
shove the totally saturated vaginal rags deeper and allowing it to
expand a mite more. She has to stop. The orgasm is almost upon her. The
yellowish off-white cream is spilling over the tops of her feet and off
her shoes. The stain on her skirt has reached the hem.
As a final indignity she discovers that her increased pace has just now
caused the right tit to escape its wire meshed entrapment. It had been
exposed for at least 5-10 seconds during her focused effort to gain the
door. Now it was coming to a shuttering, vibrating stop, resting
massively against her torso, its lower contour just above her pubis.
Its outside edge extends even past her wide hip. The giant mam is laced
with heavy blue veins that meander in a denser pattern toward her dark
red, swollen areola.
Both of Dee’s areolas have grown to an impossible size. Each is a seven
inch diameter five inch high, vein-laced protrusion that has expanded so
greatly that they often wobble and oscillate independently of their
parent sacs. They are mounted on the pendulous lower end of each tit.
However, despite the ponderous girth and weight of the sweaty bags, the
areola on each points about 45 degrees downward rather than straight
down. Both of these wonders would have been a 39D on the average woman.
Each is capped by an even more disproportionately sized, beet red
nipple, so large, that it looks freaky even on these cumbrous tits.
The exposed nipple, like its partner was about the length of a toilet
paper tube. It rivaled more than a few cocks in the crowd and was oozing
several drops of lactate. This was a new ordeal that had cropped up
within last several weeks.
Dee could only choke back her sobs of ultimate indignity as she
attempted to cover herself. Several so-called “tough, independent,”
feminist bitches were berating her for being an embarrassment to her
gender. One crude son-of-a-bitch in a $400 Brooks Brother’s suit
actually got close enough to – under the pretense of helping “can I give
you a hand young lady” – grab the seeping appendage in his hand and pull
down sharply.
Dee quickly pulls the no-button blouse together as best she can,
succeeding in at least covering the areola and a couple of inches of
flushed flesh above it. It would be too much of an ordeal to try and
cram the monster in the empty cup. She must try and find a rest room
quickly. There, she can try to stuff herself back together and get to
the Doctor’s office on time, as she was specifically and rudely
instructed by the appointment nurse to do without fail. Just before
entering the office building – shit happens – she breaks off the heel of
her right shoe which was wounded in Dee’s brief effort to run. Now she
has to bend over and remove both cunt cream laced shoes. She is now
barefoot with a continuous rivulet of drying cunt slime oozing between
her long naturally curly but proportionally shaped prehensile like toes.
She could cum just by staring at them, wiggling and contorting them in a
variety of directions and angles. The slime was still running down her
legs and replenishing the drying crud on her feet and lower legs.
In her despair, she failed to notice the long, slim, open toe clad feet
that were emerging from the stretch limo parked in front of the
building. If she had, she would have creamed right then, given her
immediate stressful circumstances. These feet were her ultimate dream of
what a perfect female foot should be. They were clad in shoes that were
a simple assembly of six-inch rapier-thin heels connected to a thin
leather sole. They secured the feet with a single ankle strap and a thin
sister strap that looped very tightly across the base of the toes. Each
of the sexy feet exhibited a high arch and a well-defined and visible
bone structure. Several of the many visible veins were extremely
prominent just behind the constricting toe strap.
The coup de grace for Dee had she seen them, was the high arching,
angular toes, each with a small delicate knot at the top of the last two
joints. The next to longest toe – which had a slightly flared tip and
smallish rectangular nail- if straightened out, would have been
significantly longer than the big toe which was also long and perfectly
formed. The rest of the super sexy digits were long and angular also,
but proportionally smaller towards the very angular curly pinky toe.
Because of these extra long silky toes, the owner possessed a size 12
shoe. They were feet that would melt Dee’s foot fetish brain cells
should she ever have the ultimate privilege of caressing the spaces
between each toe oh so slowly and wetly with the tip of her quivering
tongue. Or, to absorb gently, each vibrating digit completely in her
cavernous mouth with a series of many, slightly open mouthed, tiny
nibbles and closed lipped micro suctions. Each vein would receive its
personal tongue-tipped bath. Both ankles would sustain an almost total
wrapping of Dee’s moisture laden snake-like tongue. All residues of
warm, drying spittle would be gently removed by the erotically charged,
short, jerky breaths of Dee’s vacuuming mouth. The wrinkling of the
clean white soles would be ironed out by the repetitious jerks and
flexes of the peds in response to Dee’s ticklish but incomparable oral
Had she been less distracted with her own ridiculous situation, she
would also have noticed that the fantastic peds were attached to long
slender well-toned legs that were exposed by the thigh high split of a
knee length skin tight dress. The photo perfect gams merged with very
slightly flaring, slim hips. The stomach was very flat. All of this slim
and trim proportion was lost in the shadow of a bust that though not as
large as Dee’s was extremely imposing due to her five foot, four inch
height and very slight frame. She was mind boggling in appearance,
particularly so after one finally decided to see if such a body had a
face. Indeed it did. This woman could only be described as impossibly
beautiful. Slender face, sharp perfectly sculpted straight nose, full
voluptuous but not overripe lips, and cold black eyes that communicated
a fierce, uncompromising, veritably ruthless but intelligent
countenance. People everywhere known or unknown to her gave distance and
immediate respect.
Her name was Rhea Bouvier and the Gods of coincidence had brought she,
and Dee in contact with the single individual (each other) required to
provide the ultimate quality of life for each. She had been observing
the pitiful shenanigans of Dee for several minutes, noting with a
practiced eye the obvious marks of abuse on the more than twelve inches
of exposed right tit. She nodded her head in interest at the very
noticeable almost detailed outline and protrusion of a cock-sized leaky
nipple. Yes, she was watching and thinking “What a stupid cow bitch she
is. How in the hell can someone end up with cruddy toe twitching
barefeet in the lobby of a major downtown building? Jesus, her mascara
is melting past her lips. She has tears in her eyes, is drenched in
sweat, and is barely covering up at least 40 pounds of sweaty tits with
one hand on the bottom of her ruined useless blouse and the other
holding a pair of rancid smelling shoes. And shit, the whore has globs
of pussy slime running down her legs. It looks like the worthless slut
took a three-minute piss through the front of her skirt. All that and
she has a beatific smile on her face? This bitch is interesting to say
the least and I am going get some answers soon.”
Dee was still oblivious to Mrs. Bouvier. She had been humiliated worst
than any time in her life, had a monster clit probing her soaked cunt
hole, was being squeezed almost breathless by a necessary bondage
device, rubbed raw by the same garment, and staring down as usual, was
intensely focused on a mental image of her hidden squirming, lathered
toes. Despite all this she had crammed back the oh, so needed orgasm.
She was proud of herself, fondly remembering her mother’s often
bumbling, sometimes over the top, but highly effective and ruthless
methods for helping her achieve today’s success. It too had its birth
during their visit to the Doctor’s office shortly after she turned