She looked at me with a mix of pity, scepticism and horror: “Are you actually willing to pay for this?? What are you: a newly discovered disease or something?” Now, that wasn’t a nice thing to say, was it? But I was quick to reply: “If so, I’m not contagious.” She giggled and shrugged Her shoulders: “Alright nutcase, show Me the money.” I did and – as promised – kneeled down in front of Her. She wore an ultra mini miniskirt and Her gorgeous legs were just inches away. It was all a bit awkward and uncomfortable, I admit that. “Tell Me a bit more about this Leg-Fetish thing,” She asked. Bless Her! Because that really broke the ice and I answered the question in great detail. After my hymn She looked at the money and frowned. “If it means that much to you, then this is just a tip, isn’t it?” Blimey, She was a quick learner! She made me empty my wallet in the hope (not the certainty) of getting permission to worship Her legs. Hence the saying: show me a leg and I’ll show You the money.
“Come here, slave.” Mistress Eve was standing near the fireplace, hands on Her hips, legs spread. I crawled the distance and looked up at Her. “Get inside,” She grinned and pushed my head between Her never-ending legs. The trap snapped shut and the squeeze was on. Thank God for being empty headed, otherwise She would have squeezed the brains out of my head. The wooden paddle landed on my ass and I wriggled like a snake with hives. Then the door opened and I heard footsteps approaching. “Let me help you with this,” a voice said. And I recognised that voice. It belonged to Lady Mia, also known as Merciless Mia. Well, She sure as hell lived up to Her name that day, because She smashed my innocent, defenceless ass into smithereens. And all this time my poor head was trapped in the vice of Female beauty. It nearly cost me my buttocks, but what a glorious punishment it was!
Men are either into breasts or bums, they say. Which makes me one of nature’s misprints, I guess, because I’m into legs. I was already a leg-fetishist long before I knew how to spell it. Legs rob me of my senses and give me a never-ending boner. Even my socks are wet at the end of the day. But there’s something mysterious about legs as well. There are numerous leg-fetish sites on the Net, which should suggest that this lovely fetish is widely accepted. But I’ve met quite a few Ladies with legs all the way up their armpits, but none of them seemed to understand what the leggy fuzz was all about. So it’s all fine and dandy to be a boot-, shoe-, panty-, ass-, foot- or what-not slave, but leg-slaves don’t even exist! How weird is that.
Being a diehard fetishist means that man-made objects (boots for example) or body-parts (feet, legs etc) have certain powers over you. The stronger the fetish, the more vulnerable you are. Telling a Lady about these desires is like putting your dick in a meat grinder and inviting Her to grind away. Because She can now play you like a cheap banjo. Tease you to dizziness and beyond, make you blush like a schoolboy or give you a short-breathed stammer that’ll last for hours. It’s utterly amazing to see how powerful some fetishes can be and how easy it is to make a man hopelessly addicted to them. It doesn’t take much to fall into a bottomless abyss of slavery, that’s for sure. It’s just a matter of pushing the right buttons.