Dee's Tao - The Way Of An Anatomically Challenged Masochist

Chapter One Humiliation On Fifth Avenue (Anatomically Challenged, Torture Bra and Sexy Feet)

Dee's Tao
Chapter One
  Humiliation On Fifth Avenue (Anatomically Challenged, Torture Bra and Sexy Feet)

It has been said that ultimate truth is a very personal thing; that few things can be
secured with universal approval as being absolute. The debate regarding the validity of
this proposal is replete with numerous musings and compelling, rational thought. Suffice
to say that worthy individuals such as you and I do, as often as possible, attempt to
create and control our own present and future circumstances and having succeeded even to a
small measure, know with certainty, that it is a "real" and secure thing. Such is the case
for Deanna Winston, a most worthy, enduring, and highly unusual presence - extremely and
shockingly so, as we shall discover - in the universe of 1989, where the first scene of
her story begins.

She is making her way through the bustling pedestrian traffic of New York's Fifth Avenue,
on her way to the office of Dr. Marsha Kline, known within her profession as a renowned
but rather mysterious expert in the fields of female hormone disturbances. She is also
highly regarded for her occasional forays into plastic surgery. Dee is in desperate need
of Dr Kline's services and has managed to steel her nerves for the visit and the
particularly intimate and unusual examination she knows is forthcoming.

Dee is one of those rare women that though not beautiful falls into that other meaningless
category of very attractive. However, if it is true that "pretty is as pretty does," then
Deanna Winston can be regarded as one of the world's most dazzling goddesses of beauty and
pulchritude. Discarding the extreme proportions of her unbelivable hourglass figure, she
would still be an imposing presence in most companies. Her five foot eleven inch height is
solidly distributed on a medium-heavy frame. The only significant fat she possesses is
distributed massively in her breast and buttocks.

One of the many accommodations necessary to adapt to her evolving abundance, is daily
strengthening rituals, especially her shoulders, back and legs. Accordingly, her long
legs, extremely strong back and abdomen are well defined by larger than average, almost
perfectly honed muscles. Her skin exhibits a smooth, pale complexion. This is because she
usually keeps herself well covered in order to hide a multitude of old and new scars,
welts, punctures and other bondage residues that have very much been her pleasure to
collect during the last twelve years. Some are livid evidence of what must have been
extremely savage beatings and "abuse". Most in fact, were administered by herself and her
mother. Others were contributed by her only two high school friends. Only one of the
latter stays in touch on rare occasions.

Being the unremitting masochist that she is, self-inflicted pain and public humiliation
have been her principal recourse during the last five years. Many opportunities were
possible for the inclusion of other interested parties to put Dee through the paces. She
rejected both the overt and covert offers with politeness and occasionally, with
questionable regret. None of the people offering themselves seemed to possess the special
characteristics she intuitively knew she required.

Dee is a paradoxical presence. Her body, despite its obvious disproportion, projects a
real as well as perceived strength. Curiously, her demeanor exhibits a combination of
resolve and self-confidence, in concert with a passive-like submissiveness. It is not a
complicated state of affairs. Quite simply, she has long had the ability to recognize that
her public and private affairs are separate slices of her life. She reigned over both with
total control, switching from one to the other as circumstances, needs and desires
dictate. She is the ultimate feminist, willing to fight viciously for any and all
opportunities to have a choice in a matter. However, given the opportunity to make the
choice, she will not, does not, suffer the value judgements of others, especially the
deluded, self-proclaimed protectors of her gender. She is Deanna Winston first and
foremost. All else, especially her gender, were less than secondary.

At the moment, Dee's large, oval, hazel-blue eyes - which rarely gaze directly at another
pair today - expose a persona of humiliation and suffering. It is real and it primes the
pump of her now dribbling cunt. She licks her medium thick lips, which contour a wide,
expansive, but very proportional mouth. The trained eye knows this mouth has the potential
to absorb a lot of girth. It also has the potential to exhibit frequent and wonderfully
broad and sincere smiles. An astonishing range of suffering and intense, sensual agony are
also frequent visitors to her uniquely expressive eyes and mouth. Her longish, nervous
tongue exposes itself briefly to moisten her rapidly drying lips in anticipation of the
struggle that is immediately forthcoming. A sharp erotic pang strikes the center of her
bottomless pussy. Her head jerks back in response, causing her thick, slightly wavy,
shoulder-blade-length, auburn hair to fly sideways.

Deanna Winston is indeed an awesome sight. She easily turns the heads of men and women
whenever she is in public. One could follow her out of sight, simply by the sound of
screeching brakes and the occasional loud, insulting hoots from the men and the silent but
equally penetrating bete-noire stares from the women. Such frequent belittlement has been
her fate since age ten when her early budding breasts exploded to a size 35C within ten
months. By the time she had just turned twelve they had zoomed to 42DD. A visit to the
family Doctor revealed that she certainly had a severe hormone problem. Medication
required to halt the condition was not available. A breast reduction was not advised until
physical maturation was complete and all growth had ceased.

On the day of her fourteenth birthday, her mother treated her to the choice of any skirt
and blouse combination she wished. Off the shelf, dresses were out of the question due to
the extreme nature of her figure. Moreover, her mother was not able to afford custom-made
clothes. By this time, Dee was fast outgrowing even the larger sized off-the-rack blouses.
She was five feet, five inches tall and was exhibiting the evolution of an extremely
voluptuous figure. Her unusually small 22 inch waist was perceived as tiny when viewed in
concert with her 38 inch hips and ass. Finding a nice skirt was much less challenging than
selecting a matching blouse. Why? Because in the two year interim since age twelve, she
had expanded from a 44DD to a 51EEE which necessitated a 48FF bra. This was close to the
maximum size her mother could find locally. It was also becoming more painful to wear -
much to Dee's increasing satisfaction. Her hormones continued their physiological anarchy
into her fifteenth year.

A couple of months after Dee had turned sixteen, her mother decided that another trip to
the Doctor was absolutely necessary. This was essential in part, because of the
unrelenting growth of her breasts and the equivalent growth of Dee's genitalia which had
also begun to manifest itself at age ten. She was also deeply disturbed and confused about
Dee's "abnormal" behavior. At that time, Dee's bust and other wildfire, hormone-fed
anatomical "blessings" had evolved to an appalling size.

Later, about age eighteen, her biological mechanisms began slowing towards a "normal"
situation. Within a year, she stopped growing. However all hell broke loose again at age
24, six months ago. She was now an absolute human anomaly.

Crossing over East 49th Street, she literally creates a Red Sea parting of the pedestrians
in her proximity. Harried businessmen and women, as well as school children, casual
shoppers, and the few panhandlers present, find themselves automatically sidestepping as
Dee approaches them. Almost all, turn left or right and stare in goggle eyed amazement.
She has long had the capacity to create these omnipresent humiliating gauntlets, which are
populated by all manners of leering, gawking, often taunting, occasionally propositioning,
citizens. Most of these people are, in fact, very honorable, considerate, citizens. At
worst, they would only sneak a glimpse at the occasional presence of an unusual person in
their mist. However, with Dee they HAVE to stop and stare. Some sling humiliating comments
and insults at her, that, under ordinary circumstances, they would never think of
uttering. In fact, Dee's entire physical and psychological being compels them to stare.
Some feel compelled to verbally abuse and mentally rape and torture her.

Dee knows this will happen, but being extremely shy, modest, unassertive and
non-confrontational, endures it with only occasional tears, quite, choked-back sobs and
rare eye contact.

The biggest problem for Dee in public circumstances is not the occasional seepage from her
eyes, but the almost constant seepage from between her legs, once these gauntlets begin,
which is usually as soon as she leaves her apartment. She experiences real fear and
trepidation each time she has to be in public. The inevitable humiliation is truly
dreaded. It is in fact, a small terror that only serves to infuse her libido before she
even opens the door. Her passion and carnal devices often take possession of her once she
is on the street. This rutting mind fuck produces greater humiliation, which of course,
hones the cutting-edge pangs of her growing lust. To make matters worse, today, she has to
walk over a mile. After managing 49th Street, there are still several blocks to traverse
before she arrives at Dr Kline's office.

The only reasons that Dee has not gone mad from this humiliation is because of the
persistent, and extremely brutal training and guidance provided by her mother until Dee
was nineteen years old. Equally contributing was Dee's own psychology, and inner strength.
Lately and especially today, (a lengthy, degrading walk such as this, in such crowded
circumstances) has her at a fever pitch. She is just before starting to actually gush from
her constantly seeping, obscene sized cunt. She has to dig deep in her arsenal of
strength. The crowds are thicker and her quickened pace to be on time has caused the
inevitable independent movements of her massive tits. They are the principal visage that
has altered the crowd's attention and behavior.

Like most women with oversized breasts, Dee often attempts to downplay their size by
wearing dark oversize blouses - now almost impossible to find off the shelf, and
over-large vest or jackets. By now, it is impossible to hide the independent planets that
constantly attempt to go into independent orbits of ever changing directions. God knows
what havoc would take place if she were not wearing the single tailor-made bra that she
was finally able to buy after saving for three months.

It could actually be classified as a harness, in that it was constructed of heavy canvas
intermeshed with thin stainless steel. No frills here, just pure utility, which is
decreasing monthly. The upper cup-supports are half-inch thick stainless steel loops that
are triple sewed to the wire/canvas mesh with thin stainless steel wire that is covered
with a layer of patent leather. The diameter of the cup openings where these loops are
located, is eight inches. This used to be a perfect fit for the upper expanse of each
breast. However, during the last six months they have become too small. Lately, each steel
loop is over-lapped by a substantial amount of breast meat that quivers and undulates at
her slightest movement. Today, the escaping flesh is very noticeable as two independent
blouse bulging masses, the top four inches being visible above the pressure-lost top
button of the blouse. It billows to the bottom of her neck. All of her vests and jackets
are much too small too even attempt to wear. She has to depend on the blouse and the bra
to maintain their integrity and to contain their colossal baggage.

Each cup of the harness/bra is connected by thick patent leather, which is secured by five
layers of thin stainless steel stitching. Four-inch wide, heavily padded shoulder straps,
connected at the top of the cups, intersect into a single two-inch wide strap below her
shoulder blades. It is looped through a brass D-ring stitched to the bottom rear of the
bra, which extends to just above her 45-inch ass. This corset-like portion of the bra
extends to just above her pubes in the front. Thus, we have a garment that covers the
entire torso. To function, it must be connected at the front, via a severe clinching of
metal stays and the dangling rear strap.

This two-inch wide slightly elastic strap which is the extension of the shoulder straps,
hangs from the rear center of the bra, just above the terminus of her tight ass cleavage.
After exiting the brass D-ring, it drapes over her rotund ass, gradually widening to six
inches at the bottom of her butt, where it tapers back to a two-inch terminus. The last
six inches of the strap consist of a stainless steel cover. This cover contains a series
of metal projections that face outward.

In order to put this torture device on she must first drop the whole affair over her head.
Then, she must bent over and reaching at total arm length, attempt - with increasing
difficulty lately - to get each huge dangling, swaying breast in its proper cup.
Accomplishing this, she must now somehow keep her still unrestrained, heavy hanging
monsters away from her torso, in order to clench in the front stays on the front portion
of the bra. One way she can accomplish this to wrestle each 25-plus pound cup-encased sac
over her shoulders. Then, standing as still as possible in a slight bent back position, to
prevent them from sliding off, she begins the ordeal of clinching in the metal stays.
Lately, they have grown to such an extraordinary extent, that they frequently roll off her
too-narrow shoulders, landing with a heavy slap against her chest, abdomen and hips.

There are ten connecting devices running down each of two, five-inch wide metal strips
that have been welded to the front of the (as yet) unconnected front panels of the bra.
Each open panel is attached to the bottom of the cups just above her waist. Thus, it would
resemble an unbuttoned vest, that had been attached to the bottom of the permanently
connected cups.

The only effective way to create the degree of support needed is to ratchet the thin
flexible strips located (riveted) on the front of the left panel, through metal receiver
loops located on the right panel. This was the tricky, painful part. Each of the receiver
loops had a small hex screw at its top. Dee has to manually thread each half- inch wide,
ribbed, flexible strip, through its opposing receiver loop on the opposite panel. The
metal strip was then ready for tightening, by inserting a special wrench over the hex nut
and turning until the proper amount of constriction is attained.

Dee has a natural 24-inch waist, which at over five feet eleven inches and combined with a
monumental 45 inch rotund ass, presents an awesome sight. However, the effectiveness of
the bra/harness requires that she cinch herself down to an almost impossible, agonizing,
twenty-one inches. And, this was when she first started wearing the device. Now, because
of her last six-month ordeal of raging hormones and the resultant increase of her already
obscenely huge sacs, she must ratchet herself down to tear emitting twenty inches.

This part of the process takes over a half an hour to complete. It requires that she
ratchet a little at a time, working up and down in sequence. The front of the garment
stops just above her pubes, compressing her thick mat of black, navel high cunt hair as
flat as paper. Once this rather severe, self implemented, but necessary bondage is
completed, her breathing becomes somewhat strained and limited. She loves it. It is an
adjustment she has learned to make, whether at work, or attending to other personal
affairs. However, the requirement of tightening an additional inch causes her to gasp
rather frequently and to forcibly feed her starving lungs by consciously gulping as deep
as possible and engaging in hyperactive breathing. This is especially true when she begins
to move. Walking is especially stressful.

After completion of the ratcheting process, she must complete the most dreadful part of
this one-hour total dressing process. In order to actually get her massive tits up off her
torso to some degree, she must reach between her legs and draw the rear dangling strap up
between the crack of her ass and over the six inch wide mountain of her obscenely large
and hormone inflated vulva. More shocking is the fact that her fat usually slippery vulva
is the residence of a now half-erect, still mostly hooded clitoris. It is a clit of such
monumental proportions that some readers may wish to exit at this point rather than face
up to the organic reality that nature can take, even if only once in billions of sets of
possibilities. Medical journals are replete with the most hideous of oddities. Poor Dee,
as noted, is an extreme case of genetics gone asunder. No matter, her prodigious anatomy
will not be ignored. Besides, as we will see, she is much more than mere ectoderm.

Before pulling the cup-hoisting strap in place, Dee must cram her huge and still growing
vagina with several highly absorbent hand towels. This is enables her to soak up as much
of the cunt drool as possible. Lately even two towels do not seem to be enough. She knows
she will end up leaking her hot effusions before she even leaves the apartment. Hopefully
the towels and the severely tight bra strap will dam the mess up long enough to enable her
to reach her destination.

The painful but necessary bondage of the harness/bra, the inevitable public humiliation
and sheer physical sensations will definitely drive her to a sensual fury. The intensity
will increase when her tits and ass begin their uncontrollable, tossing gyrations. She
loves the weighty feel of her tits and the intense erotic sensation of the swaying and
trouncing they give each other and her torso. As always, it will be a challenge not to cum
during her walk. Added to this sweet agony will be the pulling, tearing and constant
chafing that the bra/corset will inflict on her. However, as much as her tits will
eventually sway and toss, without it she would surely be arrested as a public nuisance or
exhibitionist. She did not really wish to exhibit herself to the extent she was getting
ready to do so. She knew the embarrassment and public humiliation would further drive her
into a heated frenzy. Thus, she must always prepare accordingly and use the towels.

After the towels were inserted, she must pull the strap with almost all her strength to
get her tits to begin lifting up via its attachment to the shoulder straps. Due to her
recent growth, she is just able to get the upper metal studded end of the strap into its
corresponding, hex-nut receiver slot at the bottom of the now-closed front panels.

A larger wrench is required to ratchet the strap upward through the other receiver slots.
Each agonizing inch results in a corresponding half-inch lift of the metal meshed cups.
When the monsters are up far enough to project outward almost twenty incredible inches,
she has to stop. The pressure on her anus (one of the few things below her waist that is
of normal human dimensions) is too agonizing. Her obese pussy lips have started to mush
out of the sides of the six-inch wide portion of the strap.

"AHHHHEEE... unhhh... OHH God almighty, I'm not going to make it to the Doctor's office. I
will cum in front of everybody. Ahhh, it hurts so well. Well screw it! I will make it.
Mama taught me how to get through situations like this. I will damn well get there without
cumming, even if I have to leave a constant trail of slime behind me like last week's trip
to the store. Jesus, it was so humiliating to be ordered out of the store in front of all
those haughty, ignorant bitches and drooling bastards. I should have waited for the dryer
to finish the last basket of towels instead of just stuffing one up my stinking trench and
being in a hurry. Damn, what a mess. But as close as I nearly did so, I did not cum, even
after the bitch of a manager shoved me out the door so hard I landed on my ass."

Though shy and unassuming with others, Dee was especially brutal with herself. Not out of
guilt or an ignorant psyche, but because a very large part of her world was focused on the
want and need to suffer. She would see to it that she did. Her strength was that she could
do so, at least in part, through ordinary day to day circumstances. She had learned
certain controls from her mother and had agonizingly learned how to apply them to the
extent that she was able to earn a two year computer technician degree from her hometown
Community College. This enabled her find a nice job in New York City, 90 miles from home.

"Unggg!!!... Hard to breathe; but I am gonna have to get these sacs up at least one more
inch so that they will at least be even with my waist. Damn!, I've always loved my unique
body, but this growth has got to stop. It was bad enough six months ago when the lady at
the custom bra shop said my tits were 82 inches and this torture bra was equivalent to a
76HH. There's no telling what size they are now. God knows how many hatpins I could
accommodate now. Fifty in each areola last week but had to stop, knowing about this
appointment. She might not want to take me if she knew what a 'pervert' I was. But that
was silly, she is gonna see all these other marks anyway."

Dee smiled at the "pervert" tag she had applied to herself. It was actually the rest of
the world's pronouncement, given out of the universal human need to stamp all things
understood or not with a label of good or bad and to draw up consequences accordingly.
Society and cultures demand a norm and anything outside of that, no matter how close to
the periphery, was suspect at best. Thus, these days Dee did not find herself in a Public
Square impaled on a stake or broken on a wheel as an abomination to mankind or God. Now,
she was simply gawked at by everyone and tormented with a variety of humiliating comments
and occasional gropes. She carried the heated results of the humiliation home with her.
They were an added ingredient to all manners of rather crude, unsophisticated methods of
self-abuse. These lengthy auto-erotic ordeals often resulted in no less than 10-12 intense
cunt spurting orgasms a session.

Crying in real torment, she just manages to squash her overly compressed cunt lips outside
the strap another bit while gaining another inch of tit lift. They now rest just above her
navel and heave out almost 22 inches. Each expands a good deal beyond the outside
perimeter of her arms. This is why she has to walk. They long ago became a total hindrance
to driving a car. Taxis are just too expensive.

Worst of all and most challenging to her control not to cum during this torture trek, is
the fact that the cunt strap, which has compressed her major and minor labia to a
dangerous degree, has mushed her half rigid, huge clit downward into the region of her
vagina, not stuffed with towels. The massive root has no more room to grow but will strive
to do so with every step she takes. "Lord give me strength" she mutters whipping her
tears. Knowing she has a long walk ahead of her, she decides to wear her most full skirt
and largest dark blouse. Unfortunately, the only skirt available is a tan one that was
given as a gift. She was going to exchange it for a darker one but had not gotten around
to it in time. "Oh lord," she mutters almost prayerfully, I hope the towels hold,
otherwise it will look like I peed all over myself before I get there."

She wears three-inch heels in lieu of the five, six, or even 7-inch heels she possesses
and prefers. She is a raving foot fetish and particularly enjoys wearing too small, toe
crunching, open and closed-toe high heels. Despite her formidable anatomy, she and her
mother were determined that she master the ability to wear the torturous footwear. It took
her almost six months of sometimes crippling agonizing effort - in public - to manage the
feat (a pun, my word, sorry) but success was actually a given. Due to the unusual length
of her long angular toes, Dee is forced to seek out a size 13 for a perfect fit. However,
most of the footwear in her full closet are a half and full size to small. On special
foot-only, self-abuse sessions (several times a week), she will wear her unique "ped pain
providers" ("triple P's" - her tag) which she designed herself and paid dearly to be
crafted by one of Manhattan's most skilled cobblers.

Though in great pain, and full tilt humiliation, Dee strides past Saint Patrick's
Cathedral in her struggle to make the last block. Crossing 51st Street, she looks the
absolute freak at an approximate 80 some-odd inches x20x45. She is now sucking great gulps
of air very rapidly, in response to her physical efforts and her efforts to repress a
boiling need to cum.

The rags are saturated and she can feel the warm syrup rapidly running down her bare legs.
Soon it will emerge below her hem and pool around her ankles, in her shoes and begin
trailing on the sidewalk like in the grocery store. Equally worst, the front of her skirt
is showing a noticeably dark stain. "Oh hell, I have got got to hurry or I'll be a soaking
mess in front of everybody. At least in the Doctor's office there will only be a few
people." Hardly able to breathe, her tits swinging wildly back and forth with such a force
that the original six inch exposed upper cleavage is now an eye popping ten inches. Their
ponderous gyrations are so exaggerated her lower chin is swallowed during upward bounces.
Another two buttons have disappeared, exposing the upper four inches of the torture bra
itself along with a vast expanse of vibrating flesh across its horizontal extent. She does
not have time to care. She is now trotting at a very rapid pace. The cunt cream is at her
ankles and she is just before screaming out a violent orgasm.

It is all just about too much to bear. The surging, wildly flopping milk sacs rip all of
the buttons off her blouse only 100 feet from the door. All in her proximity are utterly
speechless. The blouse flies open exposing the entire front of the clenched in foundation
garment and the incredible tiny waist. Worst, over a foot of her tits is now on fresh
pudding-wobbly display, succeeding in their almost conscious effort to escape the
torturous confinement. The straps are jerked violently causing the cunt strap to somehow
pull tighter forcing the freak clit to shove the totally saturated vaginal rags deeper and
allowing it to expand a mite more. She has to stop. The orgasm is almost upon her. The
yellowish off-white cream is spilling over the tops of her feet and off her shoes. The
stain on her skirt has reached the hem.

As a final indignity she discovers that her increased pace has just now caused the right
tit to escape its wire meshed entrapment. It had been exposed for at least 5-10 seconds
during her focused effort to gain the door. Now it was coming to a shuttering, vibrating
stop, resting massively against her torso, its lower contour just above her pubis.

Its outside edge extends even past her wide hip. The giant mam is laced with heavy blue
veins that meander in a denser pattern toward her dark red, swollen areola.

Both of Dee's areolas have grown to an impossible size. Each is a seven inch diameter five
inch high, vein-laced protrusion that has expanded so greatly that they often wobble and
oscillate independently of their parent sacs. They are mounted on the pendulous lower end
of each tit. However, despite the ponderous girth and weight of the sweaty bags, the
areola on each points about 45 degrees downward rather than straight down. Both of these
wonders would have been a 39D on the average woman. Each is capped by an even more
disproportionately sized, beet red nipple, so large, that it looks freaky even on these
cumbrous tits.

The exposed nipple, like its partner was about the length of a toilet paper tube. It
rivaled more than a few cocks in the crowd and was oozing several drops of lactate. This
was a new ordeal that had cropped up within last several weeks.

Dee could only choke back her sobs of ultimate indignity as she attempted to cover
herself. Several so-called "tough, independent," feminist bitches were berating her for
being an embarrassment to her gender. One crude son-of-a-bitch in a $400 Brooks Brother's
suit actually got close enough to - under the pretense of helping "can I give you a hand
young lady" - grab the seeping appendage in his hand and pull down sharply.

Dee quickly pulls the no-button blouse together as best she can, succeeding in at least
covering the areola and a couple of inches of flushed flesh above it. It would be too much
of an ordeal to try and cram the monster in the empty cup. She must try and find a rest
room quickly. There, she can try to stuff herself back together and get to the Doctor's
office on time, as she was specifically and rudely instructed by the appointment nurse to
do without fail. Just before entering the office building - shit happens - she breaks off
the heel of her right shoe which was wounded in Dee's brief effort to run. Now she has to
bend over and remove both cunt cream laced shoes. She is now barefoot with a continuous
rivulet of drying cunt slime oozing between her long naturally curly but proportionally
shaped prehensile like toes. She could cum just by staring at them, wiggling and
contorting them in a variety of directions and angles. The slime was still running down
her legs and replenishing the drying crud on her feet and lower legs.

In her despair, she failed to notice the long, slim, open toe clad feet that were emerging
from the stretch limo parked in front of the building. If she had, she would have creamed
right then, given her immediate stressful circumstances. These feet were her ultimate
dream of what a perfect female foot should be. They were clad in shoes that were a simple
assembly of six-inch rapier-thin heels connected to a thin leather sole. They secured the
feet with a single ankle strap and a thin sister strap that looped very tightly across the
base of the toes. Each of the sexy feet exhibited a high arch and a well-defined and
visible bone structure. Several of the many visible veins were extremely prominent just
behind the constricting toe strap.

The coup de grace for Dee had she seen them, was the high arching, angular toes, each with
a small delicate knot at the top of the last two joints. The next to longest toe - which
had a slightly flared tip and smallish rectangular nail- if straightened out, would have
been significantly longer than the big toe which was also long and perfectly formed. The
rest of the super sexy digits were long and angular also, but proportionally smaller
towards the very angular curly pinky toe. Because of these extra long silky toes, the
owner possessed a size 12 shoe. They were feet that would melt Dee's foot fetish brain
cells should she ever have the ultimate privilege of caressing the spaces between each toe
oh so slowly and wetly with the tip of her quivering tongue. Or, to absorb gently, each
vibrating digit completely in her cavernous mouth with a series of many, slightly open
mouthed, tiny nibbles and closed lipped micro suctions. Each vein would receive its
personal tongue-tipped bath. Both ankles would sustain an almost total wrapping of Dee's
moisture laden snake-like tongue. All residues of warm, drying spittle would be gently
removed by the erotically charged, short, jerky breaths of Dee's vacuuming mouth. The
wrinkling of the clean white soles would be ironed out by the repetitious jerks and flexes
of the peds in response to Dee's ticklish but incomparable oral ministrations.

Had she been less distracted with her own ridiculous situation, she would also have
noticed that the fantastic peds were attached to long slender well-toned legs that were
exposed by the thigh high split of a knee length skin tight dress. The photo perfect gams
merged with very slightly flaring, slim hips. The stomach was very flat. All of this slim
and trim proportion was lost in the shadow of a bust that though not as large as Dee's was
extremely imposing due to her five foot, four inch height and very slight frame. She was
mind boggling in appearance, particularly so after one finally decided to see if such a
body had a face. Indeed it did. This woman could only be described as impossibly
beautiful. Slender face, sharp perfectly sculpted straight nose, full voluptuous but not
overripe lips, and cold black eyes that communicated a fierce, uncompromising, veritably
ruthless but intelligent countenance. People everywhere known or unknown to her gave
distance and immediate respect.

Her name was Rhea Bouvier and the Gods of coincidence had brought she, and Dee in contact
with the single individual (each other) required to provide the ultimate quality of life
for each. She had been observing the pitiful shenanigans of Dee for several minutes,
noting with a practiced eye the obvious marks of abuse on the more than twelve inches of
exposed right tit. She nodded her head in interest at the very noticeable almost detailed
outline and protrusion of a cock-sized leaky nipple. Yes, she was watching and thinking
"What a stupid cow bitch she is. How in the hell can someone end up with cruddy toe
twitching barefeet in the lobby of a major downtown building? Jesus, her mascara is
melting past her lips. She has tears in her eyes, is drenched in sweat, and is barely
covering up at least 40 pounds of sweaty tits with one hand on the bottom of her ruined
useless blouse and the other holding a pair of rancid smelling shoes. And shit, the whore
has globs of pussy slime running down her legs. It looks like the worthless slut took a
three-minute piss through the front of her skirt. All that and she has a beatific smile on
her face? This bitch is interesting to say the least and I am going get some answers
soon."

Dee was still oblivious to Mrs. Bouvier. She had been humiliated worst than any time in
her life, had a monster clit probing her soaked cunt hole, was being squeezed almost
breathless by a necessary bondage device, rubbed raw by the same garment, and staring down
as usual, was intensely focused on a mental image of her hidden squirming, lathered toes.
Despite all this she had crammed back the oh, so needed orgasm. She was proud of herself,
fondly remembering her mother's often bumbling, sometimes over the top, but highly
effective and ruthless methods for helping her achieve today's success. It too had its
birth during their visit to the Doctor's office shortly after she turned sixteen.