Feels So Good

Such impudence! As the master I ought to have been the one asking for a massage. Yet…she had done so well today and bore the long march so bravely. I was really proud of her. She was tired and sore and she deserved a little care. Couldn’t a master reward their servant? That wasn’t so strange, was it? Back home I would give our old horse a good brush down after a job well done. This wasn’t so different, was it? And Rosa was no animal. She might be a **** but she still had a right to be treated as a human being. These are things I think…though the shameful truth was I wished to do it. Especially after being told to.

Cradling her right foot in my hands I look down at the crude slipper, a bit of rough leather held together by twine, made elegant because it was on her. I run my thumb along the skin of her slender ankle and whisper. “So soft.”

Rosa smiles and watches but doesn’t say anything. I try three times to look at her but each time my eyes retreat back to her foot after just a quick glance. She was so pretty laying there relaxed. Her arms flopped out at her sides, head pillowed by a pile of hay, and her feet up on my leg. Even in that wondrous city of Alexandria she must have been the most beautiful meretrix around. Out on the road it was easy to forget just how lovely she really was. I don’t mean to look but from my angle I catch a peek up her tunic and see the bulge of her Amazon heritage. Blushing furiously I refocus completely on the feet on my lap.

I untie the short lace that helped support her slipper around her ankle. I pull it from her foot and take a quick look at the scuffed sole.

“They’re holding up pretty good.” I say, trying in vain to keep this casual like how we talked during the day.

“Shhh.” She hushes me. I look back to her face to see her eyelids blink slowly and heavily. “No more talk today.”

“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll be quiet.”

I do the same with the other shoe and place them to the side. Her bare tootsies are as cute as the rest of her. To my surprise her feet did not smell that bad after such a trek, likely to do with how little she sweats. I take in a breath and gather my courage, and it was definitely courage I was summoning here. With both hands I very gently encompass the right one. The pale dainty foot nearly disappears in my large tanned hands. Bracing my fingers on the top of her foot I dig my thumbs into the supple flesh of her sole.

“Ooo!” She jolts. “Not so hard. I’m delicate.”

“Sorry!” I ease up immediately and caress the top of her foot in apology. Gauging my power more carefully I start again, applying pressure and pushing my thumbs from her heel up to the pad.

“Ohhhhh!” Her eyes roll back as she melts back into the hay.

Right away I feel subtle spongy pads just beneath the skin not too dissimilar to the feel of a cat’s paw. As she wiggles her adorable toes I notice they are much more dexterous than mine. I go again, rubbing from bottom to top in a firm smooth stroke.

“Ohhhhh.”

Hearing her moan with pleasure, pleasure I was giving her, fills me with…new feelings. Deeply gratifying new feelings. As good as this felt for her I swear it did even more for me. I was sexually aroused, very much so, but it went so far beyond that. Attending to Rosa brought both joy and peace into my heart. I take time and massage the base of her toes before sliding my thumbs up her sole once again.

“Oh Quin.” She sighs happily and half asleep. “That feels soooo good.”

I didn’t dare correct her on using my name despite my orders not to. She told me no more talk today and I didn’t want to bother her. Besides, I had been silly and rash when I gave her that command. Closing her eyes she snuggles down into the dry hay and lets me make her feel good. I rub and knead and press in all the ways I imagined would feel nice. Her ankles, her heel, her silky soft arch, the ball of her foot and the top, along with each individual toe. Each part is given my entire attention for a time. I wanted to touch more, I wanted to touch so much more, but I didn’t have permission. By her light cooing I knew I was doing well and it made me feel wonderful inside. I wasn’t a masseuse but what I lacked in training I made up for in thoroughness and eagerness. With her not watching me anymore it gave me the bravery to gaze upon her as I rubbed her foot so that I could see her joy as best I could in the growing darkness as well as hear it.

By her calm still and deepening breath I could tell that she was succumbing to Somnus’ nocturnal enchantment. I switch to her other foot so that she could feel the pains of that one be relieved as well before nodding away.

“Mmmm.” In a hushed hazy voice more asleep than awake she whispers. “Good boy. Gooood boyyyy.”

It is the last thing she says before drifting off into her slumber.

I sit there for a time just watching and listening and hopelessly trying to make sense of everything I was feeling. She called me a boy again. Is that how she thought of me? As a mere child? That didn’t seem to be the tone of it, it seemed more a term of endearment than derogatory, but I couldn’t be sure. She was much older than me after all. I hoped and prayed that she saw me as a man. Only time would tell.

Very gently I lift her feet, slide out from under them, then let them down to the ground as soft as a feather. I wring my hands, nervous at what I was about to do. I poke my head up to look around the dark quiet farmyard. Nothing stirred except the light breeze. Even our neighbor the mule had fallen asleep. Getting on my hands and knees I kneel down at my slumbering ****’s side…I lean forward to bow low like I imagined doing this morning…and I kiss the top her soft delicate foot. I linger there reveling in my beggarly genuflection, my lips just barely touching her skin, for as long as I dare.

Getting up I feel ashamed but relieved I was finally able to do it. It had been playing on my thoughts all day long. As hard as I could ever remember it my manhood ached with suppressed potency. I consider sneaking away to relieve my passions. Given the intensity of my lust it would take but a short time to get myself off. But…I didn’t want to leave. As quietly as I could I pull my blanket from the pack and lightly drape it over my ****’s petite form.

“Mmm.” She stirs but does not wake.

With neither my cloak nor my blanket I arrange my tunic as best I could and curl up in the hay across the stable from my ****. To my surprise sleep comes swiftly.