And stress needs to be released, somehow. How many of you wish you had the apartment across the hall in this story?
Boots, Breaks, and Beating
Audrey pulled off her apron and tossed it
down on the counter. “You guys have cleanup?” she looked back and
forth around the table, and decided to take their mumbled groans of
contentment as consent. She laughed, shook her head, and walked to
the door. Grabbing her keys from the bowl by the door, she made a
half effort to tell people she'd be back. The football game was
already starting, the food was already digesting; she could have
burned the place down and the most response she would have gotten was
some complaints about the heat.
She smiled, shook her head again, and
stepped out of the apartment. The heels of her harness motorcycle
boots making a wooden click on the floor. Two steps across the hall,
and she slipped the key into the lock. The thought of how he might
react the sound gave her another smile, a different and darker smile.
She turned the key and pushed the door open slowly, glad she never
bothered to oil the hinge. The door creaked, and she lavished the
sound, drawing it out slowly.
He turned his head towards her,
towards the sound. She closed the door behind her, throwing the latch
of the lock and letting it echo through the otherwise empty
apartment. She took a step across the bare floor, then another.
Heel, toe. Heel, toe.
He followed her movement, the
blindfold forcing him to rely on the sound of her boots. Heel, toe.
Heel, toe. A slow, casual walk around the room. He'd been waiting for
hours. A little while longer wouldn't hurt.
“Are you hungry?” she asked,
stretching her arms over her head, rolling her neck and sighing,
already feeling the tension start to drain out of her. “I'm pretty
sure I spilled all sorts of things on my boots.” She sighed. “Do
you have any idea how uncomfortable it was wearing these all day? I
hope you appreciate it.”
He made a muffled sound and struggled
a little bit. Then came the frustrated sound that told Audrey he'd been
trying before.
Heel, toe. Heel, toe.
“I could've worn comfortable shoes.
But no. I had to wear these. These nice, black, leather boots.” She
bent down and started rolling up her jeans, knowing that he couldn't
see it, but enjoying herself anyway. “I had to handle the metal
ring pressing against my ankle, the straps over my feet. I had to
have my feet crammed into these things while I basted the turkey,
while I chopped the apples.” She sighed. “There's probably all
kinds of crap that dripped down on them. And that's not even counting
whatever I stepped in around the kitchen.”
Heel, toe. Heel, toe.
She bent down, right in front of him,
so she could whisper in his ear. “I wore these all day, just for
you,” she said. “My feet are killing me. Do you know what that
means?”
She grabbed the zipper at the back of
his neck and slid it up, then yanked the mask off his face without
any ceremony. He blinked in even the dim light of the empty
apartment.
She gave him a little kick in the
side, just enough to make him gasp at the shock of it. “I asked you
a question,” she said. He started to answer, and she kicked him
again. “Not yet,” she said.
“First, they need to be cleaned.”
She took a step back, just barely out of his reach. “So get to it.”
She pulled the one piece of furniture in the apartment, the folding
chair, and placed it in front of him. Lowered herself to the chair,
sighing at the simple pleasure of being off her feet. “Lick.”
He wriggled forward, sliding along the
floor like a worm, the only movement he was capable of. She
considered pulling her foot away, just to make him wriggle a bit
more. But the exhaustion of cooking for twenty outweighed the fun of
watching him degrade himself for her. Maybe later.
His eyes drifted closed as his tongue
slid out of his mouth and began pressing against the leather of her
boot. He slid over the toes, and she felt the pressure against her
toes, against the top of her foot. She smiled quietly as the soft
press of his tongue leeched the stress of the last few hours. He made
a soft sound of pleasure, one she would punish him for later, as his
tongue curled its way over her insole. He pressed his tongue through
the ring, over the rivets at each of the three straps, licking under
the straps as well as over them. He ran along the strap behind her
ankle to the other ring and repeated the process.
Audrey crossed her arms over her chest
and watched him work, seeing the tension in his body as he pulled
himself up enough to get his tongue to the top of her boot, halfway
up her calf. He shook with the tension of holding himself up, but he
didn't ask her to unbind his hands, he didn't shirk on his duties. He
collapsed back to the floor as soon as he had licked his way around
her calf, breathing heavily and sweating a little at the exertion.
Audrey lifted her foot a little bit, leaning it back on her heel. He
pressed his tongue against the ridge of her heel, pushing hard
against the sole so she could feel the pressure on the bottom of her
foot as he licked the sole.
“So what did I step in?” she
asked, knowing he wouldn't answer. He knew better than to respond
while he was cleaning her boots. “I know I stepped on some pie
crust at some point. Maybe a bit of stuffing? Cranberry sauce?” He
moved his tongue down over her heel, then around the seam where her
boot met her sole. He pressed a gentle kiss against the top of her
foot, and she pulled it away, presenting him with the other boot.
“It's kind of gross,” she said as
he started working on the other boot. “I know there's grease
spatter on there. Probably some congealed butter. A bit of cream.”
He ran his tongue along the side of her foot, pressing hard so she
could feel the gentle massage. “The food was delicious, you know.
Of course you know that.” He started licking around the ring again,
and she sighed. “But I wonder. All together, it was fantastic. But
the ingredients, bit by bit, how do those taste? How does it taste
licking up the scraps of my cooking, the dredges of the wonderful
meal that everyone else was enjoying while you were laying here, all
tied up, all by yourself?
“Does it bother you that you weren't
invited to dinner?” He strained again, lifting himself up off the
floor to lick his way up her calf. “I mean, there's no way I could
ever have you over there with
me. I couldn't have those people meet you. Those are my friends.”
He fell down again, and she presented him with the sole. He started
licking, obedient as ever. “They're my family. People I actually
care about.”
She
pulled her boot away and stood up suddenly, the movement pushing the
chair away.
“Could
you imagine?” she laughed and took a step around his form. Heel,
toe. Heel, toe. “Having to introduce you to people that actually
matter?” She shook her head. “What would I even say?”
She
squared towards him and delivered a swift kick to his side. He
gasped, and she kicked again, harder. He curled up around her foot,
groaning into the fetal position. “Hi mom, hi dad,” she said, her
voice dripping with ridicule, “So glad to see you. This is the
piece of shit that licks my boots.” She stepped away from him, then
kicked him again, this time with the side of her boot, against the
flesh of his back. “Yes, Carl, I am married. To him? Oh, good lord
no.” She kicked him again, and he whimpered a bit.
Audrey laughed, “I would never,” she accentuated the cruel mockery in
her voice with a vicious kick to his leg “ever,” to his stomach,
“even consider a real relationship,” and finally to his crotch
with this pathetic little shit.”
She
stepped away. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. He curled up around the pain, as
if holding it at his core. She gave him a sinister chuckle. “Could
you imagine?” she asked. “What if people actually thought that I
would sully myself by being somewhere with you,” she gave him
another nudge, rolling him onto his back. “and in public?” She
shook her head.
Audrey rolled her shoulder, trying to decide what else she wanted to do to
him, how else she wanted to take out some of her aggression, how else
she could relieve some stress. She pressed the sole of her boot
against his neck and crossed her arms, tapping one finger against her
teeth as if she was thinking, as if she was considering what to do
next, while gently increasing the pressure against his throat.
His
eyes bulged a little bit, pain mixing with excitement and tinged with
more arousal than panic. She pressed a bit harder, cutting off a bit
more of his oxygen, wondering if there would be a bruise in the shape
her her heel on the side of his neck.
“I
need to think,” she said, pressing down a bit harder, staring down
at him, making sure his eyes never show fear or real danger. “Maybe
I need a good fucking. Or to cane you for a few hours.” she rolled
her shoulders. “No, I'm still too tired for that. How about a
massage?”
He
looked up at her and opened his mouth, but only a choking sound came
out. She smiled.
“Not
for you, idiot,” she said. She pulled her foot off his neck and
gave him a gentle kick on the jaw, more a nudge than an actual kick.
She laughed and turned towards the door.
Heel,
toe. Heel, toe.
“You
think about it,” she said. “I'm going to go back and make sure
everything is going okay. Make sure no one is missing me.”
Heel,
toe. Heel, toe.
“I'll
be back at half time. Maybe I'll cut you loose. Maybe I'll be rested
enough to really beat the shit out of you.”
She
flexed her ankle, rolling her foot and hearing the leather creak.
Heel, toe. Heel toe.
She
flipped the latch, opening the lock with a loud click.
“Or
maybe I'll come up with some other torture for you.” She took a
deep breath, letting it out with a pleasant sound at the thought of
the sorts of things she might do to him later. “You think about
that,” she said.
She
pulled the door open. “Come up with something clever,” she said,
“And maybe I'll make it worth your while.”
She
closed the door behind her, locked it, and stepped back across the
hallway, ready to rejoin the festivities. She took a deep breath,
recentering herself, putting her mind back into family mode.
She
opened the door to her apartment with a smile painted on her face, a
smile for the secret in the apartment across the hall. “Where've
you been?” someone asked.
“Just
went for a walk,” she said.
“You
missed the kickoff.”
Audrey laughed. “Not exactly.”
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