Those who think that the often glamorous and chic world of Fetish is limited to the fashionably elite or the younger set ought to take a cue from one of my slaves whose company I recently had the pleasure of enjoying. He’s a distinguished looking gentleman who looks as if he’s in his late forties. I suspect that he is considerably older, but I don’t care to know nor do I ask because what is most endearing about him is his innocuous and delicate demeanor when he acts out his cross dressing maid fetish.
I was invited to dinner at his home one evening where he and I had enacted our twisted tryst several times before and where I could always expect to receive his brand of cozy hospitality. On this occasion however, my focus was on administering hard core castigation, which to him was more of a gift than a reprimand, but it was an overdue duty of mine nonetheless. After all, he more than deserved it, not only for demonstrating a naughty propensity for perversion, but also because he loved such rewarding retribution. When I arrived, he greeted me with the kind of eager anticipation and excitement pet dogs have when their owner comes home. Appropriately, I grabbed a doggy treat from his kitchen pantry and granted him the same reward his own dog receives when he performs tricks obediently and on cue – but not before he earned it by begging fervently for it on his hands and knees. I could smell the scent of meat simmering on the stove even as I left the kitchen and went into the living room to wait for dinner to be served. And like a well trained servant, he brought me a glass of white wine on a silver serving platter. During dinner, which included an amusing display of scrumptious dishes prepared and served by him in his black and white maid’s outfit, I was practically hand fed as he carefully cut my meat into bite size portions, buttered my bread and made sure my glass was always filled with wine.
He’s a very accommodating slave, but his delicate and servile nature doesn’t earn him any pity points when it comes time for him to perform the more intensive slave duties. But before I commissioned him to fulfill those duties, it was time for some desert which he most enjoys not on any fancy silver bowl, but directly on my beautiful feet. No silver wear was required for this serving because my maid servant slave satisfied his sweet tooth by eating and smearing the strawberry ice cream all over my feet, then licking my toes clean. Afterwards, he brought an elaborately engraved tureen and a silver basin of Perrier mineral water and fruit scented liquid soap with moisturizer to wash my feet back to their pristine condition.
After he himself washed up, I attached my leash on his neck and led him into his bedroom where I pushed him on the bed and established my dominance as I proceeded to rape him, encountering only a feeble effort of almost acquiescent resistance. With his wrists bound to the bed posts in soft black rope and his blind folded face down against a pillow, I grabbed his hips and fucked him like a whore whose face you don’t care to see when you’re only desire is to get off with a fuck doll of a body, and rung his neck with my hand to choke and subdue him as I thrust my black 9 inch strap-on dildo at variable speeds. I could see his face turn red with glee as he moaned in pleasure and transformed from a mild mannered cross dressing maid into a pathetic, perverted, whimpering slut.
By the time all this transpired, quite some time had passed and I was ready for a number one in the restroom. I made sure to pee some of my sweet golden nectar into yet another elaborately engraved, medieval style vessel – a chalice with gemstones on it - left there in the bathroom specifically for this purpose. My maidservant, turned slut, turned toilet slave, couldn’t wait for this moment so he could satisfy his perverted thirst with a zingy taste even an ice cold Mountain Dew couldn’t match. By drinking it and spreading it over various parts of his body including his penis, he experienced the intimacy he lusted after with his Goddess ALEYA.
You might think this was a rather extreme kind of fetish for someone who seems like an older, distinguished gentleman, but it just goes to show you: you never know what closet secrets people preserve. It also illustrates that the fetish lifestyle, no matter how mild or extreme the experience, is a private pleasure (not a guilty pleasure…it shouldn’t be anyway) anyone of any age or background can and does enjoy. So, for those of you who still resist your dormant desires, I urge you to free yourselves and venture beyond the conforming zones of mainstream society and quit betraying your desires by exploring the deep dark waters of the Fetish lifestyle, even if you must wade in the waters before you swim.
I was invited to dinner at his home one evening where he and I had enacted our twisted tryst several times before and where I could always expect to receive his brand of cozy hospitality. On this occasion however, my focus was on administering hard core castigation, which to him was more of a gift than a reprimand, but it was an overdue duty of mine nonetheless. After all, he more than deserved it, not only for demonstrating a naughty propensity for perversion, but also because he loved such rewarding retribution. When I arrived, he greeted me with the kind of eager anticipation and excitement pet dogs have when their owner comes home. Appropriately, I grabbed a doggy treat from his kitchen pantry and granted him the same reward his own dog receives when he performs tricks obediently and on cue – but not before he earned it by begging fervently for it on his hands and knees. I could smell the scent of meat simmering on the stove even as I left the kitchen and went into the living room to wait for dinner to be served. And like a well trained servant, he brought me a glass of white wine on a silver serving platter. During dinner, which included an amusing display of scrumptious dishes prepared and served by him in his black and white maid’s outfit, I was practically hand fed as he carefully cut my meat into bite size portions, buttered my bread and made sure my glass was always filled with wine.
He’s a very accommodating slave, but his delicate and servile nature doesn’t earn him any pity points when it comes time for him to perform the more intensive slave duties. But before I commissioned him to fulfill those duties, it was time for some desert which he most enjoys not on any fancy silver bowl, but directly on my beautiful feet. No silver wear was required for this serving because my maid servant slave satisfied his sweet tooth by eating and smearing the strawberry ice cream all over my feet, then licking my toes clean. Afterwards, he brought an elaborately engraved tureen and a silver basin of Perrier mineral water and fruit scented liquid soap with moisturizer to wash my feet back to their pristine condition.
After he himself washed up, I attached my leash on his neck and led him into his bedroom where I pushed him on the bed and established my dominance as I proceeded to rape him, encountering only a feeble effort of almost acquiescent resistance. With his wrists bound to the bed posts in soft black rope and his blind folded face down against a pillow, I grabbed his hips and fucked him like a whore whose face you don’t care to see when you’re only desire is to get off with a fuck doll of a body, and rung his neck with my hand to choke and subdue him as I thrust my black 9 inch strap-on dildo at variable speeds. I could see his face turn red with glee as he moaned in pleasure and transformed from a mild mannered cross dressing maid into a pathetic, perverted, whimpering slut.
By the time all this transpired, quite some time had passed and I was ready for a number one in the restroom. I made sure to pee some of my sweet golden nectar into yet another elaborately engraved, medieval style vessel – a chalice with gemstones on it - left there in the bathroom specifically for this purpose. My maidservant, turned slut, turned toilet slave, couldn’t wait for this moment so he could satisfy his perverted thirst with a zingy taste even an ice cold Mountain Dew couldn’t match. By drinking it and spreading it over various parts of his body including his penis, he experienced the intimacy he lusted after with his Goddess ALEYA.
You might think this was a rather extreme kind of fetish for someone who seems like an older, distinguished gentleman, but it just goes to show you: you never know what closet secrets people preserve. It also illustrates that the fetish lifestyle, no matter how mild or extreme the experience, is a private pleasure (not a guilty pleasure…it shouldn’t be anyway) anyone of any age or background can and does enjoy. So, for those of you who still resist your dormant desires, I urge you to free yourselves and venture beyond the conforming zones of mainstream society and quit betraying your desires by exploring the deep dark waters of the Fetish lifestyle, even if you must wade in the waters before you swim.
