Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 03

Michael hardly slept a wink.

He'd just been the slave, the complete, eager and willing sexual slave to Beth, a very sexy 60-year-old woman he'd met in the bar at the hotel where he was staying on business. She'd seduced him with flashes of her sexy old legs, visible as her black pant legs rode up while she sat at the bar, showing her muscular calves bubbling above her low black trouser socks.

The horny 21-year-old had fallen for her fetishistic ways, slavishly worshipping those calves, those socks, those smelly feet, at the bar. She'd even gotten him off using her muscular calves, as friends of hers stopped by to chat. And later, when she came by Michael's room, dominating him with her entire, rather sinewy and lean body, controlling him body, mind and soul.

And before she left, wearing those black socks gone squishy from his cum, which she'd "made" him suck clean, he was privy to some disturbing news: At his business meeting tomorrow, he'd be giving a speech. Before a crowd that would include the company president. Which, it turned out to Michael's chagrin and Beth's delight, was the sexy older woman he was slave to.

Before she left his room for the night, Beth promised to sit in the front row of the meeting the next morning. Flashing her legs and those filthy socks at him. Hence, his inability to sleep much after she'd left his room - as she flashed those legs and socks at him on the way out.

He got to the meeting early, sizing up the crowd, making small talk with associates, trying to remember what he was going to say. He was a young hire at the company, and his speech would center around that, being new blood in an old business, this one being the insurance trade.

He wanted her to show up. He wanted to impress this incredible, sexual older woman who was his boss. He wanted to please her. And at the same time, he didn't want her there, knowing the effect it would have on him. She would unravel him, he feared.

He mingled, nibbled aimlessly at the mediocre buffet spread out in back, eyeing the crowd, seeking her out, a mix of relief and regret consuming him at her absence. The meeting started precisely at 9 a.m. His speech, which was to be fairly short and part of the day's proceedings, was preceded by other blathering sorts accompanied by boring charts and he heard none of it.

His time came, his name called. Beth was nowhere to be seen. He relaxed a bit as he made his way to the podium before a few hundred disinterested sorts who offered a polite smattering of applause as he walked up. He turned, shuffling his scant notes, tapping them on the podium. Smiling, he looked up.

The door in back opened, quietly but forcefully. In walked Beth, and all eyes turned toward her. She wore a smart dark business suit, navy-blue blazer, dark blouse with print scarf beneath, and matching slacks and the same shoes she wore last night. Michael gulped watching her walk confidently to the front of the room, acknowledging underlings along the way who sycophantically greeted her. He looked at her shoes, knowing the crusty secret the soles contained. She caught his eye as she strode down the center aisle. She smiled. He wanly smiled back.

She sat down, crossing her legs, gently tugging her pants up. A scant inch or so of pure white flesh of calf and shin shone above those socks that Michael imagined still reeked of his cum. He was rendered speechless as she casually bounced the top leg, the meat of her sexy calf flexing around her shin in freckled folds of silky skin.

"Uh...Michael?" the company vice president, an unremarkable little bald fat man, said, leaning over from his chair near Beth's. "Are you OK?"

"Maybe I make him nervous," Beth giggled softly behind her hand to the fat man, but loud enough for Michael to hear.

"Nonsense, and please, please forgive me for not introducing you, Ms. Sands," the fat man stammered, standing and facing the crowd. "We have the distinct pleasure today of having our company president, and CEO, wife of our founder, Ms. Elizabeth Sands!"

The crowd, which had offered Michael the scantiest applause, exploded as she stood to face them, her pant legs falling down over her supple legs, that exquisite ass pressed tight against her dark slacks. Michael recalled immediately the funky, sweaty aroma of it; he'd been licking only hours earlier, imprisoned in the depths of her meaty bum, devouring it. His cock went stiff. He was thankful to be behind the podium.

"I'm pleased to be here, and my late husband would be proud of you all for the job you are all doing," she said to more applause before turning to sit down, again with those pant legs riding up to flash a tease of her alluring legs at the nervous young man at the podium. "Michael? Is that it, that your name ... Michael?"

He nodded and felt his mouth go bone dry.

"Then Michael, my dear boy, please continue," she said. "Please, don't let me make you nervous!"

The crowd tittered, thankful for not being in Michael's place, the young man's brow beading with sweat as he rifled his notes, trying not to see her. He couldn't help but look, her slight teasing leg shots drawing his attention like a beacon. He took a sip of water.

"Uh...well, I'd like to say first of all...I'm very happy to be asked to...uh, speak to you today...," he stammered. "And of course, to have our leader, Mrs. Sands here with us."

She looked at him, silently mouthing "Mother," what she'd forced him to call her the night before as she so deftly controlled every fiber of his sexual being. His cock stiffened all the more.

As he talked, her leg bounced, crossed over the other, forcing that pant leg to rise higher, revealing more of her muscular old calf. She dangled a shoe playfully. Michael couldn't help but notice the residue coating the dark inner sole, streaked white from the night before.

He blathered on, trying to be sensible, layering in his talk how fortunate he was to be working for this company, to which the audience, otherwise bored senseless, saw fit to applaud, hoping to curry favor with the boss. He continued about being new blood in an old business, looking at the back wall, the side, the floor, his notes, anywhere but at that endlessly bouncing middle-aged calf flexing before him.

He finished with "and thank you once again, Mrs. Sands, for the opportunity to serve y...to serve this great company," to which Mrs. Sands rose to applaud him, those pant legs slipping back down over her shins, the crowd following her lead to rise as well.

"Kiss ass motherfuckers," Michael thought, forcing a smile on his face and acknowledging the audience, none of whom could give a rat's ass about what he had to say, as they tried only to please the beautiful older woman who signed their checks.

"Nicely done, young man," Beth cooed as he stepped off the podium, and the fat man took the podium to announce a half-hour break. "Get me a coffee. Cream. Just. Cream."

She smiled. He groaned. He walked to the back of the room to get her coffee, pouring the cream with a shaky hand, and walked back to her as she stood mingling with people lining up to kiss her ass. He handed it to her and she walked away from the others with him.

"Join me for lunch, Michael," she said, sipping her coffee, he watching the sexy pucker of her lips fold as she did. "At the head table."

"Certainly Mrs...," he started, then correcting very quietly to a whispered "Mother."

"Very nice," she smiled, walking away. "Now. Follow me."

He blindly obeyed, walking a few steps behind her, eyes fixed on that delicious ass packing her tight black slacks. She walked down a hallway to the restrooms. She stopped at the ladies room door, turning to see if anyone else were around. No one was.

"Wait here," she said.

"Yes, Mother," he answered.

She went in, and seconds later opened the door, curling a finger at him. His astonished look caused her to reach for his ear, and as if a teacher scolding a child, pulled him inside.

"We haven't much time," she said sharply. "Do make it count."

The rest room was large and empty, with several stalls, a huge handicapped one at the far end. She strode to it, her heeled shoes clacking on the cold tiles, pulling him into it, latching the door. Silently, and looking into his eyes, she backed to the toilet, unsnapping her pants and pulling them, and her black thong panty, down to her sock-clad feet in one smooth motion. Michael's eyes widened as her muscular calves and thighs flexed as she squatted to the seat, her bushy gray crotch coming into view.

He stood, transfixed. He could smell her sex.

She sat, feet curled in her shoes. Smiling, she pointed to those rocky calves and socks.

"Lick," she snarled. "Lick my calves and socks while I pee."

He hit his knees immediately, running his tongue over the salty bubbles of her fleshy, firm calves, tasting the meat of them, groaning. The socks below stunk so very badly but he licked there as well, down to where they disappeared into her shoes. She curled her toes and lifted her feet, heels up, toes inside, forcing those amazing, controlling calves into thicker, more insistent balls of muscle. Inside her shoes, he saw the crusty evidence of last night, the rancid aroma wafting to his nose. He grimaced.

"Lick them, Michael," she said. "Lick those nasty insides of my shoes! Now."

He did, dipping his face to the stinky soles, lapping the old cream, wincing at the flavor of cum and sweat and raw foot funk. She laughed a low laugh and unleashed a hot torrent of piss into the bowl, splashing noisily into the water. He could smell it and the pure forbidden smell of all of it nearly made him cum in his pants. Worse yet, the severity of her urine hitting the water caused tiny droplets to splash up between her sexy, wrinkled thighs and dot his worshipping face. Beth grunted out the last few spurts of piss, looking down at the slave on his knees, licking her foul footwear.

"Clean me," she sighed, standing up and leaning back against the far wall, legs slightly spread, feet close together as her pants bunched around her socked ankles. "Clean the pee from Mother's pussy!"

He'd never done anything like it before. The fantasy of being a piss slave, of tasting a woman's urine, never even entered his mind. And now as he knelt before his boss, his trembling hands cupping her marvelously wrinkled ass, her piss-glistening pubic hair inches from his mouth, it was all he wanted to do.

The taste wasn't as bad as he thought as he lapped at the wet fur of her pussy, then in the lips, sucking the piss from her hole. She groaned at his tongue, holding the back of his head in her hands, fucking his face, jamming her cunt into it, taking his tongue deep and using his nose against her oily clit.

"That's it, that's nice, lick Mother's piss," she hissed, humping his face harder, her orgasmic gel mixing with her pee and coating his plunging tongue. "Ooops! Guess I wasn't done yet!"

With that, a short squirt of scorching-hot piss jetted into Michael's mouth, filling it. He swallowed, eyes wide and looking up through her matted bush to her heavily lidded eyes as she pissed down his throat.

She stopped peeing and gently gyrated her slim hips, pushing harder into his mouth, his hands mauling the soft, saggy flesh of her ass, the young man marveling at the smoothness. She came with a grunt and a firmer hold on his head, pulling his licking face deep inside the piss-scented hairy maw of her pussy, pumping her woman cum into his mouth. He was fighting for air now, unable to breathe with his face a complete prisoner of her hirsute cunt. When she finally let him go, he slumped back, panting. She smiled down at him, turned and presented her delicious, delicately wrinkled ass to him.

"Now clean my bum hole, dear," she cooed over a shoulder, hands on her hips.

"Yes...Mother..." he sighed helplessly.

He dove in, spreading her meaty cheeks in his hands, the puckered, hairy rectum wet and winking before him. The musky smell of ass hit him first, caused him to pause as his nose brushed the sexy fleshy of her butt, and then pressed on, tongue extended. It was a riper smell than the one he'd endured the night before and he knew immediately she hadn't showered this morning. She giggled, reading his mind.

"There wasn't time for a proper cleaning this morning, Michael," she growled, reaching for his reluctant head with one hand and pulling his face into her ass. "That's why you're here. Now clean. Mother's. Ass."

He groaned, lapping madly through the slightly crusty muscle of her outer ring and plunging inside, his face buried in her flexing old ass, his tongue flashing in and out. He ignored, or tried to as best he could, the aromatic flavor of what was coating it, gulping down, going back for more, his hands braced against the back of her muscular old thighs. He saw nothing as he was buried up to the eyes in her undulating rump.

"Take your cock out, Michael, I suspect it's hard by now," she laughed. "Take it out for Mother while you clean her ass."

Anxiously, he obeyed, fishing out his super-hard cock from his pants as he continued to devour the boss lady's funky ass.

"My calves, Michael," she growled. "Continue to lick, but put your cock into those calves you cannot get enough of!"

It was awkward but he made it work, snuggling up close to Beth's amazing calves and inserting his cock into the velvety, muscular warmth of them as he continued to devour her asshole. He groaned at the feel of her sexy calves scissoring his cock around the sensitive head, the sensation overcoming any hesitance he'd initially had about cleaning her dirty ass. He ate deeper from it now, his tongue reaming it deeper and wetter, his hands massaging her thighs, as she fucked his dick in her legs.

He was oozing precum like a hose and the lubrication felt heavenly as Beth felt it coat her meaty calves, rubbing them back and forth on the head of his cock, the flesh wet, warm and silky. He moaned in her asshole, echoing urgency in the wet deepness.

"Cum, Michael, cum quickly, we're expected back at the meeting," she hissed.

He was about to when he heard the bathroom door open, followed by conversation of the two women entering the room. He froze, with his tongue deep inside Beth's gripping asshole. She squeezed his cock harder in her calves, working the velvety flesh around it. She grabbed his head in one hand and pulled, hinting that he should continue his oral slavery of her asshole. He did, silently, stifling the urge to moan.

"Wow, that guy was a dork, huh?" one of the women said as they both slipped into stalls to pee. "Jeez, what a doofus."

"Yeah, I guess old lady Sands was making him nervous," the other laughed. "Can't blame him, though, I hear she's a bitch, a tough old bitch."

Beth giggled quietly, quivering her ass meat around Michael's licking face. She tensed and relaxed her calves more rapidly now, drawing out more precum and bringing him to the edge of a delirious orgasm.

"Yeah, I hear that, too," the first woman said as both pissed. "But she is a pretty old broad, I'll give her that. Sexy, too, for a woman her age, she's a classy bitch."

"Oh, fuck that Cassie, she's what, 100?" the other woman laughed.

'Cassie', Beth thought to herself, making a mental note to look into the woman's file and perhaps reward her for her kind comments.

"Well, I hear she's got a thing for young men, really young men, and that's hardly fucking fair is it," the insulting other woman said.

"What's wrong with that, Lucinda?" Cassie giggled. "Hey, when I get to be that age and look that damned hot...why not?"

"She should be ashamed of herself, the stupid old twat," Lucinda growled, wiping herself clean.

'Lucinda', Beth thought to herself, making a mental note to somehow punish the woman for her comments, and nearly cumming at the thought.

The women lingered at the sinks, washing their hands, Michael wishing they'd leave so he could cum. But Beth's insistent stroking of his cock with her muscular old calves, slick with his precum, was too much. He came, trying with all his might not to make a sound, pumping out thick ropes of spunk into the scissoring flesh of Beth's insanely sexy old calves.

The women left, chattering away, as Michael drew his face from Beth's wet ass, and his cock from her cum-soaked calves. He looked down at them and the thick clumps of sperm coating the inside muscles. Beth stood, hands on hips, looking back over her shoulder.

"Well?" she said. "My cummy calves are not going to clean themselves."

He sighed, dipping forward, his tongue lapping at the cum streaking the backs of her calves, gamely gulping it down. She spread her legs just enough for his tongue to reach the insides, where the thickest portion of protein lay, and he lapped them clean, sticking his head through to lick up the streaks on her sexy shins. Playfully, Beth closed her calves on his neck, her scissoring muscles crimping the blood to his brain, making him dizzy before releasing him.

She pulled up her pants and straightened herself out as Michael did the same, unable to take his adoring eyes off his boss.

"See you inside, Michael," she said, walking out of the stall.

"Yes, Mother," he sighed.

He checked to make sure no one was in the bathroom and quickly walked out. There, by the water fountain, was the annoying fat vice president who looked up, shocked.

"What the fuck where you doing in the lady's room, Michael?" he asked.

"Uh, there was a line...men's room..I said fuck it, you know," Michael stammered.

"No, I don't know," the man answered curtly. "Damn good thing Mrs. Sands didn't catch you, I just saw her walking out, you must've just missed...what the fuck is that on your chin?"

Michael froze as the fat man pointed, squinting.

"Did you just eat a cream-cheese bagel or something?" he asked. "You got white shit on your chin, for fuck's sake, boy, get hold of yourself, you're a mess."

Michael wiped the cum from his face with the back of his hand as the fat man shook his head and waddled back to the conference. Michael followed, and the rest of the morning was a boring blur of talks and charts. Beth sat in the front row again, Michael next to her. Her pant legs rode up again, the scantest bit of flesh showing. Michael's eyes could not leave them.

"You'll be joining me for lunch, Michael," she whispered as the last of the speakers finished up. "At my table. A private lunch, in a smaller room off this one."

"Yes, Mrs...," he started to saw, then correcting very quietly, "Mother."

The meeting broke up and Michael followed Beth to the smaller room, with a round table and only a half dozen place settings reserved for her and a few vice presidents, which to Michael's displeasure included the annoying fat man. Beth stood at the far side, chatting with a young man with surfer-boy good looks, all blonde hair and blue eyes. All at once, jealousy overcame Michael, making him feel silly for it but unable to quell the feeling.

"Ah, Michael, allow me to introduce Bradford, do you know each other?" she said politely.

"No, no, we, uh, don't," Michael said, extending his hand with Bradford took, pumping it with too much force.

"Nope, never had the pleasure," Bradford said brightly as he pumped Michael's hand too long, looking sideways at Mrs. Sands. "Is this the one? Is this my competition?"

Michael had no clue what this asshole was talking about and didn't like the way he emphasized 'this' in a sarcastic tone. He shook his head, pulling his hand away, looking at Beth curiously.

"Competition? What..."

"Oh, I'm sorry Michael, I forgot to tell you," Beth said as she sat down, Bradford pulling out her chair for her before he could. "A position has opened up in the company, one of administrative assistant. To me."

"And...I...he..." Michael stammered, uncertain where this was going.