I am kneeling before Mistress Sumurumus. With my left hand I caress, stroke, massage, knead, pinch, and stimulate in any other ways I can think of the skin, the muscles, the tendons, the ligaments, and the nerves residing in Her feet and legs. Her pedicure is exquisite. Her skin is exceptionally soft and oh so smooth. Everything pertaining to Her fascinating feet and Her shapely stems possesses incomparable excellence. Touching my Mother-in-law this way does something for me. It gets me excited. Sumurumus is such an exciting Woman. I am getting more and more aroused. She is the most arousing and ladylike Ladyship. It is getting me hot. It is really getting me off. My dominant hand is occupied. I am not used to using my right hand. My left hand must continue to maintain physical contact with The Shapeliest of Sirens, Sumurumus. I start to touch myself. I see my Mistress smile. I hear the peals of Her wicked and wonderful laughter. Why is She laughing at me? Is She pleased? Is She only savouring my humiliation, and/or the effortless ease with which She has effectively exercised Her ability to talk me into humiliating myself at Her leisure and for Her pleasure alone? (That’s not exactly true. I have never been so sexually excited in my entire lifetime.) I do not care. What I do gives Her pleasure. That is all that matters. I am enraptured when Sumurumus is happy. What is pleasant to Her is the only thing of any worth and value and consequence and importance and relevance. Read more…