At Her Feet

I adore being at her feet. My fascination with legs was always present as far back as I can remember. In school, I admired the pretty legs of girls in short skirts and when I grew older learned to appreciate the allure of skin tight jeans. It was not until my late twenties that I became aware of my fascination and at that point it had started to become a problem.

I worked in an office with a strict dress code. Men were to wear suits complete with a tie and women were to wear pantyhose at all times with no skirt above the lower thighs. It was a very professional environment and interaction between colleagues was minimal during work hours. It was here, with the lack of human interaction, that my fetish began to grow.

I Had Always Admired the Look Of Pantyhose

I had always admired the look of pantyhose, particularly those that were sheer with a satin sheen. The first day I saw her, she was wearing that kind, a nude tone with a simple seam that outlined the shape of her calves.  They drew my eyes to her long curvaceous thighs, draped with a thick, dark skirt that almost reached her knees. Her legs were slender but not slim.  Those perfect curves wrapped in the golden shimmer of the subtle hose. I was almost breathless in awe at the beauty of those legs. I already had a game I would play with myself, guessing whether the women in the office wore pantyhose or stockings. But now all thoughts of my game slipped from my mind. All I could think about was placing my hands on those rounded thighs, to feel the soft, warm flesh encased in smooth nylon.

It was there my obsession began. I would look out for her every day, to see which hose she wore beneath her conservative, knee length skirts. They were always smart, sophisticated and appeared to be of the highest quality. I could not help but think she knew her legs were perfect to dress them so well. It was not long before each day brought me more frustration, with no release for my mounting tension. I went home with thoughts of her every day, of being at her feet, and kept dreaming of those legs throughout the weekend.  Consequently……

I Spent Hours At Her Feet

She motioned for me to sit and started to talk. I could barely concentrate for looking at those perfect legs, but I nodded in agreement as she asked me questions, trying to gain hints into what I was seeking. The envelope passed hands and once she was satisfied, she asked if I enjoyed leg worship. I had never heard of this term before and so I inquired. She simply smiled and told me to follow her, promising that I would enjoy it.

Thereupon, I entered the room, briefly taking in the dark decor. It would have been gloomy were it not for the candles lining the room. She pointed to a bowl and told me to fill it with water. I nodded in agreement and ran to fetch the bowl. She pointed towards a beaded curtain covering the entrance to a small kitchen and stated that I should obey her with the response, ‘Yes, Mistress.’

Yes Mistress!

I nodded again, saying ‘Yes, Mistress!’ and caught a glimpse of her mischievous smile. I returned with the bowl of water, warm to the touch and placed it at her feet, as I had assumed that was what to do.  She smiled again and began to rub her legs from the thighs down. Obviously, this caught my attention and she seemed pleased at my staring. “Do you like my legs?” she asked calmly, continuing to rub her slender fingers over her rounded calves. I nodded, “Very much,” I said, finishing with an awkward “Mistress” as I recalled her request, finding it odd to address someone in such a way. She slipped her thumbs under the top of one stocking, snapping the clip open with her fingers. She slowly peeled the stocking down her thigh, stopping just below the knee to look me in the eyes.

“Tell me what you think of my legs,” she said in that soft voice, more seductive now. I replied with my honest opinion. “I think they are incredible.” She smiled in approval and said “Go on.”  I was at no loss for words, having thought about legs and ways to describe them through my entire life. I continued. “They are perfect, Mistress,” feeling gradually more comfortable with the title. “I can think of nothing more than holding them in my hands and caressing those perfect curves.”

That Feels Good

She pulled the stocking off, wiggling her perfectly pedicured toes as they were released from the stretchy nylon. She placed her foot into the water and handed me a wash cloth. “You may show your appreciation,” she said, as I kneeled at her feet, soaking the wash cloth and lightly brushing the wet cloth over her toes. Wringing the cloth out, the water dripped over her knee and rolled down that perfect leg, causing it to glisten in the soft candle light. She let out a soft moan, barely audible, and said, “That feels good.”

I continued until the cloth was free of falling droplets and began to run it gently over her leg. She seemed relaxed and in turn I became more comfortable, absorbed in the activity of running the wash cloth gently over her leg, massaging her with my finger tips through the warm, moist cloth. Occasionally I would express my awe, telling her how amazing her legs looked in the soft light. Especially how the contrast of her bare calf looked stunning next to its silky, stockinged counterpart.

I Became Focused On Pleasing Her, At Her Feet

Before I knew it, my time was up. I had spent an entire hour bathing her slender, curved calf. The disappointment must have flashed across my face as she comforted me with encouragement to join her again. I booked another appointment then and there and went home smiling, relief and relaxation washing over me. In the meantime, I basked in the glory of finding such a perfect woman with whom to spend my time. I began to call her Mistress Genevieve and became focused on pleasing her, learning to worship her legs in every way I could. She taught me all the things she liked and how to worship those gorgeous thighs perfectly. I barely even noticed that the girl at the office never came back.