Sonia Musings – Walking All Over Me

A man learns of the fear and pleasure of being hovered over by a sublime presence.

(inspired by art from blissful_sonia)

My eyes opened slowly, feeling as slow as the sunrise bringing light to the world. As I started to come to though, the light shone on a world that was bland, deprived of detail, even dimmed. My eyes tried to take in the fact that I was awake but everything I looked at had the haze of a dream. Not disputing actually being awake, it occurred to me that something in my eyes or my mind just didn’t care about my surroundings. The dimness however wasn’t my doing. I only had to turn my neck a little to see what was above me.

Probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen my life; that was (still is) the best description I could give you, except for some other important details, like I knew her name was Sonia, and that me lying below her, having to stare at her like standing at the base of a giant column holding up a magnificent structure, but she was the magnificent structure. Her perfect frame, stylish blouse and skirt, hands on her hips, a content, happy look on her face to see me below her. I’m pretty sure that was a huge factor for why she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, the biggest factor at that time though.

With noticing all I could about her, the attempt to notice more is what informed me of a few other details I missed, about myself. I couldn’t see more because I was paralyzed. Not in the “just experienced a traumatic accident” but in a “calm, rested, my body-didn’t-care-if-I-wanted-to-get-up” kind of way. The sensation and feeling were there and mute, but it was there. But the only part of me that would obey any commands from my mind were my neck, barely my head, and my eyes, all I needed to see Sonia, though not interact.

The ‘not interacting’ all but told me what this was. The way she stood over me, my vulnerability; something happened between us where I’d upset her or was just struck by her gorgeousness enough to collapse. The how mattered less to me than the “what now,” as I saw her raise one of her legs to hover over me. Anxiety kicked in like it always did, for the feel of being threatened with harm, of abused, feelings that inspired “fight or flight,” to which was permanently set to the latter. Maybe that explained why I couldn’t move – I couldn’t run, so she could do whatever she wanted. That included lowering her foot closer to my face so she could stand on top of me like some conquering hero. The ‘hero’ part confused me, because it made me wonder how I was supposed to be the bad guy here.

Seeing that foot coming close, after struggling to move out of the way, the last thing I could do was close my eyes and brace myself for the pain of that heel pressing sharply into my face, and the pressure of her shoe. I wait for the pain to come, but the first thing to happen was a shuffling sound that I couldn’t decipher. I opened my eyes to see the strap of her heel had come loose and it dangled from her toes. She never bothered to bend down and attach it; it was just hanging there, like a taunt, saying “I could, you know.”

Looking up to watch it just hover, I’d wondered what she was waiting for. She let it swing a little bit, flexing her ankle and her toes. Though I treated it like staring down the blunt side of an object meant to inflict injury, part of my mind did note how sexy the sight of a woman dangling her heel, when they thought no one was looking, was pretty sexy. It was one of those things that I loved about women that I might never tell a woman for fear of how she’d react. The view from under her looked really different, in a good way. A lot of that had to be Sonia. My eyes were laser focused on that foot, the silk stockings that gleamed up her leg in the light, the firm, feminine look of those hose-encased legs and feet, the arch of her foot that was more visible as her swing lasted longer, the kind of heels she wore that showed off pretty feet (which she had) well, the sensual, slow, maybe practiced motion that made me think this was more “tease” than “taunt.”

I followed its swinging, despite my fear. There was literally nothing else to do except watch it and breathe. I couldn’t even use my mouth to ask questions. The most sensation I could feel was my neck as it could move enough to follow the shoe as it moved back and forth, sometimes getting glimpses of her heel, never thinking of exposed heels as sexy until Sonia. I wondered what color her toenails might be painted, if at all, and how they might look from above, holding the shoe up by just a toe maybe. When the shoe almost looked like it was going to fall off, and the stiletto brushed the small hairs on my cheek, I made a moaning sound; I tried denying that it was me the second it happened, but I couldn’t lie to myself. That feeling of want and anticipation flared in me at the same time as the moan and concentrated on where she almost touched me, even if by extension or accident.

She bobbed the shoe against her toe or toes, making her swings occasionally careless. I may have seen or imagined Sonia’s face , her expression amused and as teasing as what her foot was doing to me. The front tip of her shoe gleamed in some unseen light, making me specifically follow that tip until the tip of her stiletto brushed the skin of my nose. My moan was louder, and my nose itched like crazy for more stimulation, for the blessing of her scratching it. Hearing a laugh I knew was hers, she’d spoke to me for the first time since I’d waken up.

“Close your eyes.”

I didn’t think anything would be more teasing or slightly cruel than what her feet could do to me, but hearing that melodic, seductive voice cut off access to that sight hurt in a way. I’m sure that whimpering sound was mine, as no matter how I tried to keep my eyes open, the lids were more than content to obey Sonia, and dutifully shut on me.

My breathing grew stronger, my imagination increasing focus on the sole thought of Sonia’s silky soles and dangling shoe above. I knew they were there, I could feel them swinging still. Her foot resumed fascinating me like a hypnotist with a pocket watch. My neck even kept the pace of following it. Mental imagery turned not only to seeing from below, but from every angle, her feet and the shoe. I saw it dangling above me, I saw it properly strapped to her foot, the color of her toenails, the contours of her feet and legs. Desire swelled as I was shown what I wanted to do to it, and what I wanted it to do to me. The image of her foot pressing against my face flashed in my mind, and I was shocked to feel how reduced the fear of that was. It was crazy that the majority of me worried that her legs might get tired held above me with nothing to support her. Like the sexiest test of isometrics I could imagine, but I felt the need to see Sonia’s foot happy, rested, perched on me if need be to feel good. Maybe I was being tested in isometrics, ironically, resting yet needing the relief of being made to look, to touch, and anything else she allowed. I could take a little pain for the pleasure of holding Sonia up in some way.

These thoughts were coming to me too fast, as if compelled. I felt whispers, as if from a memory, of how much I wanted this, of how want would turn to need, and need could turn into submission, the need to submit, and even worship. And all of it made sense. The logic of it was accepted, embraced with open arms, or an open mind. Every last positive feeling I had for Sonia grew a solid foundation, and rose like a skyscraper. It was hard to feel whether or not I had a foot fetish before Sonia. Maybe I did, though just as a mild appreciation. But all and any pleasure I could hope for now came from that foot, those feet, anything she could use on me. I could’ve been content as her rug, no matter how much I wanted more.

I tried to show her that need in me, willing myself to whimper and whine. I must’ve looked like a puppy having a bad dream, unknowing whether I’d get any pity for it. It came easily when it crossed my mind of kissing her toes, taking them into my mouth. I physically felt the stiletto brush my lips, and they opened of their own accord to try to capture it. They closed unsuccessfully and all I got for it was the most pitiful sound I ever heard anyone make, an open mouth whine you’d expect from babies. It was that moment that I realized how deep I was in her spell. Fighting or fear never occurred to me. I was wrapped up in the need to be under her and serving her, burning for her to say

“Open your eyes.”

And my eyes shot open to see my world again, more beautiful than my imagination could put together. The foot and shoe swung and the corners of my mouth spread into a smile as wide as my eyes. She occasionally stopped swinging to touch various parts of me with the stiletto, she even carefully dragged it on a trail over my mouth to my chest. As it passed over my nipples, the shoe seemed to dip and fall across my chest. Silky toes trailed soft fire back to my mouth, where she brushed over my lips and opened the dam holding me back.

“Hold and worship.”

I could move again, my whole body was mine again, only to be placed eagerly into Sonia’s hands as I leaned onto my side, making sure not to lean on her shoe that fell to the floor. I reached out with my hands to hold her foot, feeling the muscles of her leg loosen and find relief in my support. I caressed the foot, fascinated with the feel of silk stockings over silky feet. I kissed her toes, the ball of her foot, and then sucked on her toes, signalling my utter submission to her. My fingers felt across her soles massaging them with my fingers through the stocking. I heard her sigh in pleasure, all but affirming where I wanted to be and belonged.

“So very arousing,” she said. I don’t know if she meant her or me; I was hard, but I hope the stimulation was mutual.

“So very hard,” I moaned and suckled on her big toe, in helpless agreement.

“Both heads controlled.” The way she had control over most of my body, my mind, my manhood, my arousal; I couldn’t contest her claim on it.

“Both heads needy.” And how I needed it.

“Your will weakening.”

“Your surrender solidifying.”

“Your mind softening.”

“Your cock hardening.”

“Stronger and stronger.”

“Kissing my toes.”

“Humping my suggestions.”

It was all true. Every last word was already happening, or would happen because I would make it happen for her.

“Faster and faster.”

“Helpless to resist.”

“Under my spell.”

Her spell was all around me. I breathed in her pheromones, I gazed at her entrancing foot. I felt her control wash over me, stroking me, increasing speed.”

“Sealing my control.”

“Sealing your fate.”

I knew what it meant. Whatever life I had before might be gone in place of the one she gave me. I was at peace with it. No, at that moment I needed it, I burned and begged for it with how I worshipped her toes.

“At my command.”

“You will…”

The word ‘will’ hung in the air, the anticipation killing me, the most cruel tease ever conceived. My will broke finally as she sweetly intoned.

“…cum.”

It was then that I realized I was still clothed, as I wildly came in my own pants, filling them up, the one moment up to that point where I happily did that. I shook and convulsed, spasming everywhere, but making sure my mouth treated her toes with the delicacy they deserved.

I was spent sometime later, still breathing and worshipping her toes. I whimpered again as she pulled out of my mouth and my hands. Playfully, she pushed at my chest with her foot, and I landed on my back with a gentle thud. Slipping her foot back into her shoe, she walked next to me, one foot touching the ground, the other taking surprisingly light steps off my chest, and my head, the sweetness of the pressure making me feel silly for ever having feared Sonia.

She walked pass me as I looked at her walk away, pleading for her not to go. She didn’t get far before looking over her shoulder to address me.

“Time to follow.”

Happy energy sprung through me as I was to stay with her somehow. I only had so much energy after cumming so hard, so I ended up crawling on hands and knees to keep pace with her sexy walk. The incentive of following those legs amidst a still hazy background made sure my pace wouldn’t slow.

“Good foot slave,” she encouraged, as we departed, looking forward to a future spent under Sonia.

 

sonia_underfoot_and_dangle

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