She’d call me way back in the day late at night, or early in the morning depending upon how you look at it!
“Are you sleeping Michael?”
even if I was, she’d leave a message on the answering machine and it sounded like she was saying “Wake up, boy!”
And sleeping or not, drunk or not on beer, I’d wake up, instantly alert and sober!
It was the girl of my dreams Jyoti – Mistress Jyoti – Perfect Mistress Jyoti who used and abused me so EXPERTLY!
I’d scurry on to Madam’s house – even though it was 2 AM.
I’d walk the 10 minutes from my dorm to her apartment, I’d enter, and the first thing Id do wouldn’t be to sit down!
I’d scurry around, finding a clean try and a GLASS of water – washed TWICE first – she hated glasses only washed ONCE! and fetch her water as she lay there on the bed, legs spread wide apart, arms INTERLOCKED behind her head, oh, that pose, that vibe!
As if she DESERVED me coming over to her apartment in the middle of the night aftre being woken up by her, and serving HER water instantly!
Put it there, boy! she’d say sometimes, pointing to a dressing table or something. Bedside table.
Or, sometimes she’d drin kit.
In either case, I’d be at her feet instantly. I’d sit at the foot of the bed with ONE foot in my lap.
She’d stare at me.
Sometimes for a long time before words were spoken.
This would happen even if I was standing there with water, sometimes!
She’d just STARE at me, that vibe, that God(dess) likely vibe, as if to say, “What, boy!”
I’m the boss, and you’re the SERVANT, there to serve me!
Then we’d talk about the men she’d be dancing with when out clubbing, and how tired her lovely feet were. Much like “Rhona” in the James Hadley Chase book “Believe that, you’ll believe anything!” – where “Clay Burden”‘ lovely wife he didnt appreicate was constantly complaining about her feet because she worked in a parlor.
And she wouldn’t do ANY housework, hehe.
Clay didnt know how good he had it, but of course, Slinky Val put paid to that … But anyway, I wrote about that on the other site.
This memory is about Priyanka – or Jyoti! 😉
She’d talk about how she danced with them.
I’d press her feet and calves silently, and do the sissy role perfectly, interjecting, and asking all the right questions – indeed, she’d look at me expectantly often to “continue” the conversation – what a Goddess!
“He brushed up against me”.
Giggle.
“His dick must be so big!”
Giggle, giggle!
“So manly!”
And she’d kick me in the waist with the other foot.
“Press like that, boy!”
And all the time, the stare, that POSE!
Those eyes, large luminious black INDIAN EYES I Can never ever forget, that hair!
And then, finally, she was tired.
Having gotten it off her chest, Madam wanted to sleep.
“Turn the lights off, boy!”
And I would, then I’d press her feet (not her legs) as she slept.
Just her soles, repetitively as the night wore on, and she’d SNORE comfortably – after all those drinks and men.
Me?
After my drinks, my own exhaustion, everything was forgotten!
At around 430 or so, exactly two hours after I started, I’d stop.
Not a minute before, but often a minute after.
I’d go to sleep right there – not on the bed, of course.
(sometimes I’d let myself out, but usually no. I wanted to be there to make breakfast for Goddess).
(and she did too, most of the time)
I’d sleep on the floor, no blanket.
Just her flip flops staring at me, and her sweaty socks . . . reminding me of my true place . . . UNDER the feet of an Indian Goddess.
Serving an Indian Goddess.
Paye Lagu, Madam Ji!
You were the best ever, and therefore the “Serving an Indian Goddess” is an ode to YOU.
Grab it now, footboy!
Best,
MW
PS – After the dolt like review I got on the immensely popular book yesterday, I’m considering jacking up the prices so that the Bozos stay away. This book is priced TOO low anyway for the GEM it is … Grab it NOW, before the price goes up, up, and UP, cuck.
PS #2 – Be sure and grab my book on Indian Femdom Recollections as well.
