Chapter 97.
Zeta had vacated her seat on the left end of the table to do the filming, but the rest of the guests remained seated and attentive. Reading from left to right, Magda, Nicole, Clarissa, Polly, Eleanor, Violet Poole, Diana Murchison, Tracey, Danielle and Cheryl. Mélisande wasted no time in testing Bobby’s pledge. She put both feet on the ground, and put down her hat.
“Now you have to kiss my boots, boy,” she said, tapping his cheek gently with the flap of her whip, “to show your loyalty and respect.”
“He was right, though,” whispered Polly to Eleanor, “she is a brat, and a precocious one at that!”
“I know – imagine how galling it must be for him to endure that posh, superior tone of hers.”
“Absolutely! And now he’s virtually her slave, poor thing… Though it’s somehow gratifying to see a big strapping guy like that in thrall to a such a little girl…”
“Oh, quite. Yes, very satisfying. And from what I hear of the stuff they have, there’s no escape for him either!”
And they both giggled with delight.
Zeta adjusted her position slightly and sat cross-legged, supporting her elbows on her knees. Bobby took a deep breath, hesitated momentarily, then leant forward. Before he might have prevaricated, but now he had finally gone ‘all in’ and there could be no excuse, no backing out, no reason to delay. It was as if he had suddenly entered a new phase in his life. And to tell the truth, the feeling of total submissiveness, of giving in entirely to another’s will, was making him tingle with excitement. Mélisande’s boots had recently been cleaned and polished. He breathed in the heady scent of rubber and rubber polish. His head swam. He lowered his face, pigtails dangling, allowing the smooth sides to brush his cheek, and pressed his lips first to her right, and then to her left foot. The scent and the coolness of the rubber made him shiver, and he became aware the little restraining harness down in his leotard was beginning to tighten. He had to stay in control, but glossy rubber boots were like an irresistible drug to him. He was on all fours now, like an animal begging attention, planting soft, lingering kisses all over his mistress’s boots, making her smile with pleasure, and delight in her power. Phoebe was forgotten, for the time being at least. He looked up, seeking her approval.
“Don’t stop. Show me what a good boy you are. Take your time…”
“Yes, miss Mellie…”
“Back to work, then.”
He resumed, burying his face between them. Zeta moved around and zoomed in and out, covering every angle. Bobby’s eyes were closed in ecstasy. Mélisande lifted one foot.
“Don’t forget the soles, will you?” She sighed, as if to say, “do I have to explain everything to you?”, and added, in a tone which could easily have been her mother’s, “I think you’d better lick them clean or we’ll be here all day.”
He licked eagerly, first the soles and then the heels, oblivious of the flecks of mud adhering to them; it felt like a privilege. He thrust his tongue into the groves where the soles were welded to the uppers. Mélisande was wearing her usual steel spurs, and he made sure to pay attention to the leather straps and buckles, even though it made his tongue a little sore. The guests watched fascinated. The two maids looked gobsmacked. Even Nicole was surprised.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” she whispered to Magda.
“He’s like a little puppy, desperate to be noticed.” she replied. “It’s so sweet!”
“I think I’ll have to get him a doggy suit too,” mused Nicole, “and let her take him for walkies.”
“I can just see him on a lead,” laughed Magda, “straining to get at all the ladies’ boots!”
Mélisande stood up, turned around to face the chair, and leant forward a little, so he could attend to the backs. She turned her head and looked down at him, an amused and satisfied smile on her face. At last he knew his place, and she was in total control.
“Carry on, Bobby. Lick them all over till they’re nice and clean. Then I’m going to whip you for calling me a brat.”
“Yes, miss Mellie.”
Bobby started on the backs of her boots. First cleaned her spurs. The little blunt shanks had also picked up some mud from the path, so he suc-ked it off and cleaned the arms. Then he ran his tongue up the length of her boots from the heels to the tops, working in strips so he didn’t miss an inch. Mélisande looked over at her mother and mouthed “Yay!” Clarissa smiled back, and shook her head slowly, hardly able to credit the change in Bobby.
When Mélisande was satisfied, she ordered him to stand up. He jumped to attention – a little to briskly, maybe, because as he did so, he felt his semi-tumescent boyhood thrust through the upper ring of its harness, which drew back the foreskin and gripped it firmly behind the glans, making him gasp with surprise. He knew he was in trouble. Looking as innocent as he could, he stood with his mitts together in front of him, concealing his growing erection. Fortunately no-one was yet aware of his predicament, and at that moment the door opened and the receptionist called Mélisande.
“Miss? Your horse in ready by the stables…”
“Oh, thank you. I’ll be right there.”
She turned to Bobby.
“I’m afraid I have to punish you for bad-mouthing me,” she said, assuming what she took to be a severe, grown-up tone. “It was very naughty.”
“I’m sorry, miss. It’ll never happen again.”
“It had better not. Now, let me see…”
“Darling, why don’t you make him bend over our table, suggested Clarissa. “Then we can hold his arms so he doesn’t move.”
“Thank you, mummy.”
“Good idea, Clarissa,” said Diana. “Here – come here, boy. We’ll hold you nice and tight, won’t we, ladies?”
Keeping his hands in front of him till the last moment, Bobby stepped over to the table and leant forward. Diana grabbed one hand, Polly and Eleanor the other, and pulled him till his heels were off the ground and his erection was pressed against the hard surface. His eyes watered. He felt the back of his leotard ride up, exposing the tender flesh of his upper thighs and the lower parts of his buttocks. Zeta was dodging about excitedly looking for the best vantage point.
“Mummy? Er…how many…?”
“I think six would be fair,” said Clarissa, calmly. “What do you think, Violet?”
“I agree. Three each side, Mélisande. Maybe try to avoid the marked areas.”
Zeta looked slightly disappointed, but her smile returned when Diana chipped in,
“…and don’t spare the rod, Mellie…”
Since the red marks from pony training were mostly on the outsides of his thighs, Mélisande was obliged to focus more on his rear. Bobby’s stockings came up quite high - the gap between the frilled tops and the frilled legs of his leotard was no more than five or six inches – so her target would be the tops of his thighs and the exposed parts of his butt cheeks. She would need to administer three strokes each side. She decided it was only fair to lay them on alternately – three strokes in one spot immediately on top of each other might be too much even for him. So to avoid being impeded by his little curly tail, she would need to change sides after each stroke. Bobby recalled how much the strokes of that heavy whip hurt had hurt him even through his thick rubber pony suit. His erection was already shrinking at the thought of them landing on his bare flesh! He tried to be brave, and resolved to stay as still and silent as he could during his punishment. It was only six strokes, he told himself; it would soon be over. Nevertheless he was trembling as Mélisande to up her position on his left and tested her whip in the air…
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Topic: His Aunt Nicole (Read 38587 times)
