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trekking trample
I return from a long hike, my boots muddy and my feet hot from the walk. i look at him with that calm, impatient air only a true mistress can wear and decide to put him to work before i even think about a shower. he is obedient and ready to serve. i wipe the worst of the mud from my trekking boots across his belly, using him as my convenient cloth, then test his devotion with a few decisive hops and light stomps. i tease him with my trekking poles, tapping and tracing gentle rhythms on his skin while he stays perfectly still, eager to please. when i remove my socks i present them to him. he holds them carefully and, when i instruct him, cleans my feet and the soles of my boots with reverent care. his worship is precise and patient, exactly how i expect. i step lightly back on his belly a few times, relishing the control and savoring how his body responds. satisfied by his service, i step off and leave him there, humbled and grateful for the privilege of serving me. this is strict mistress energy at its purest, a display of power, discipline and consensual devotion.
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