Capital City Chronicles: The Island - Plot & Excerpts
She sat in her winged, high backed chair with her feet propped up on the ottoman. On the rug I had folded a towel, and set a bowl of warm water, a bar of designer soap, and an array of clippers, picks and emeries, flowery scented lotions and sugary exfoliants. This had become our ritual once a week when she stayed over, for nearly a year now. At first, I had been apprehensive, and on a few occasions almost afraid of Pan’s tastes for sexual domination and control. However, after only a few months of seeing her, I began to crave the mysterious, intoxicated feeling that her little bedroom games caused me. Before long, I found myself day dreaming about collars, riding crops and rope throughout the day. Her feet were yet another part of the world of experience she took me to, that I never would have guessed would have such an effect. I had never before even considered feet as something erogenous. Soon the association was made in my subconscious, and I became obsessed.
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