I feel very blessed that the reflexologist I am seeing is a gloriously attractive woman. I think she must be a foot fetishist. How else could she play like so with feet?
I wrote a week or so ago about my experiences with her. In truth, I went to her in part to learn how to be a good and caring and useful slave. Ah the things we do for service! And my experience with her left me with the distinct impression of having climaxed, as well as the afterglow, and the visible softening in my features.
But agony! How on earth could I bring it up without seeming weird? After all, it was totally innocent. I didn’t even become aroused—anyway, my equipment doesn’t work anymore. But still, difficult. I agonised for a week about it before seeing her to find the right words.
My main therapist, the serious one, said, “your reflexologist is a dominatrix too.”
“Do you think so?” I asked perking up.
“Of course she is.”
“Think of how she asserted control over you. Over your body. Over something so deep and emotional. And I’ll bet she likes it too. It must make her feel very powerful. It must be wonderful for her to know that she can have such a meaningful effect on you. I think she must really enjoy it.”
That line of thinking certainly made me feel better.
When I lay down for my session, I told her, “you know all the things that you taught me, how to help headaches, cramps, whatever, I can’t remember any of them. I’m sorry I forgot, will you teach me again?”
“That’s okay,” she said, “its because I was working on your pleasure centres. Is it any wonder that you couldn’t remember? If I do this well, your mind turns to jelly. Do you think you could take dictation when making love?” [OMG, does she have any idea that my deepest sexual fantasy is to be a secretary?]
“No, I couldn’t.”
“When I teach you in my class, it will be different, you will take notes, make drawings, and you will practice on my feet. Then you will remember. Today, you just experience. Now lie back. What shall we do?”
“I really enjoyed what you did the last time.”
“Good,” she said, so that’s what we did. Only this time she did spend a little more time showing me things and teaching me. But she also most definitely and deliberately worked my pleasure centres.
Her work with transgender people has given her insight into the needs of our bodies. Somehow by the end of the session, we were talking about going to New York together.
I had had a pedicure that morning. Foot washing included. Ablutions. Respect.
“The last time,” she noted, “I didn’t see that your nails were painted until the end of the session. I don’t see the feet in the same way as you might when you are just looking at feet. I see energy.”
“Your feet smell wonderful,” she said.
“Orange oil. I put it on my skin every day. It stimulates collagen production.”
“You have very pretty feet.”
What a fascinating person she is. I can’t wait to see her again. All these amazing women to learn from.