Humiliatrix

My first memory of my Manchester Mistress was of my mobile phone vibrating in my pocket: I glanced at it semi-nonchalantly thoroughly expecting it to be some benign nonsense from a drunken friend.

I literally could not have been more wrong.

It was from the Manchester Mistress Helena to say that she was waiting at my door.

I ran down the stairs as quickly as I ever have or ever could; the mere thought of the beautiful Mistress having to wait and waste time outside in the cold was not one I cared to entertain.

I opened my front door and stood back as this Elite Manchester Mistress  imperiously swept into my front room.

She looked simply magnificent.

I was lost for words.

Before uttering a word she changed into a pair of gorgeous black patent leather high heeled shoes.

It was nigh on impossible to hide the look that appeared on my face of sheer devotion, absolute desire and complete dedication to my Manchester Mistress’s heavenly stilettos.

“Get down on your knees whilst you are in the presence of my high heels” she commanded.

I duly and instantly fell to the floor, a pathetic mess quivering humbly near to this Manchester Mistress’s perfect feet.

“Now I know you want more than anything in the world to lick my high heels clean but do you think you deserve to?”

I mumbled incoherently that I could never deserve such an honour but Mistress spoke over me and gave instructions to say over and over to her shoes ‘I love your shoes. I need your shoes. I adore your shoes. I worship your shoes. I exist for your shoes. I live for your shoes.’

All of this was true and more besides.

I spent a significant part of my life thinking about my Mistress’s footwear.

As I wait expectantly on all fours at my Mistress’s feet I am momentarily conflicted as of which task to perform first.
Do I suck the hot piss from my Mistress’s beautiful nylon stockings first or do I lick the globules of fresh urine off of her ladyship’s high heeled shoes first?
I very much want to do both, obviously.
I derive enormous pleasure from both activities.
On occasion Manchester Mistress Helena’s shoes have actually become overflown with warm, wet champagne.
I adore it when this happens as it presents me with the opportunity to really gulp it down.
I never waste any.
It has the most beautiful taste imaginable.

A particular high point during our evening together was when Manchester Mistress Helena filled one of her shoes with fresh champagne and held it to my willing and eager mouth; she said she was going to ‘feed me’.
I drank it all down as fast as I could.

As soon as I arrive home from work all I can think about doing is lying on my bed and draping Mistress Helena’s piss soiled pantyhose across my face inhaling the aroma of stale piss and touching myself as I say over and over ‘I love to sniff my Mistress’s urine soaked nylons’.

I await intently to worship my Mistress Helena and until then I continue to sniff and worship Mistresses stockings!

Manchester Mistress Helena’s nasty little piss whore  x

www.manchestermistresshelena.co.uk

Manchester Mistress Finest Dominatrix and Humiliatrix