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Pedi-Queer
I am, what my Master likes to refer to as, a “high maintenance” girl”. A “girly girl” with more shoes, lipsticks and jewelry than any one person, except perhaps an over blown Kardashian, could possibly need. In addition, there are the required trips to the local salons for color touch ups, trims, nails, and eyebrows. All in all, a rather expensive repertoire, requiring substantial funds from the household budget.
Though by nature a very generous man, my Dear One does have a tendency to count his pennies. Every one of them. He is the practical head of our household, and the only reason why we are not living in a trailer down by the river. So, I wasn’t especially surprised when my request for a spa pedicure was met with the following exchange.“I’d like to go get my nails done on Saturday, Sir. My eyebrows, too.”
“Fine. Get your chores done first.”
“I was kinda thinking…she bats her eyes…that I’d like to get my toes done too”
“Didn’t you just get them done before Christmas?”
“Yeah…but that was like six weeks ago. They’re sort of long. Besides, they
still have the Christmas polish on. I can’t keep that on forever.”
“Nobody sees them anyway. You wear boots everyday.”
“You see them.”
“Exactly. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about the color of your toes. Honestly,
it means more to you than me, and I don’t see the sense of spending the $25,
plus tip, on a non-necessitity right now. Make do with the finger nails and
eyebrows.”I made a face, and considered the probability of changing his mind. From the set of his jaw, I could determine my odds were poor, and any whining might lead to something I wasn’t going to like. But, stupid is as stupid does, and I gave it one last chance anyway.
“But what about the Christmas polish. It looks dumb in February.”
The evil grin should have been a dead give away. He looked up from his newspaper, and made an odd suggestion. “Tell you what…leave the toes to me. I’ll do them for you myself.”
That was a compromise never saw coming, and the thought made me nervous. After all, I saw how the man painted our family room. Yikes! Plus, he’s normally not that altruistic. Despite serious misgivings, it was, like the man said, “an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
So I went off, got the nails done, (a what-was-I-thinking shade of sparkly blue) and forgot all about our conversation until a week later. I had just plopped myself on the end of the sofa, when I was instructed by Himself to march upstairs, strip down to only my house collar, and return promptly. I did as I was told, because if nothing else, I am a very good girl.
In my absence, the living room had been turned into a nail spa of a rather kinky kind. There was the usual tools of the trade…warm water, nail polish and remover, clippers and files, along with a large bottle of lube, my stainless steel butt plug, and the smallest of our floggers.
“Welcome to my spa, Madame. Bend over and relax. I’m gonna take real good care of that damned Christmas polish.”
Now, mind you…I’ve been going to Mr. Kan’s House of Pretty Nails for several years, and not once has Kan ever attempted to plant a butt plug in my ass before starting my pedicure. This was, apparently, a whole new approach to foot grooming.
Plug in place, Sir bade me lie across the sofa, my feet in his lap. The next 45 minutes was pure pleasure. He removed the polish, and then gave me a puddle making erotic foot massage, stopping every so often to give a swat with the flogger to whatever body part he could reach. Relaxed to the point of mushy, I thought the polish part would come next. I was wrong.Sir had decided that he would “operate” on the beginnings of an ingrown toenail that I had been whining about for the past few days. If you have ever been unfortunate enough to experience that ailment, then you know how excruciatingly painful it can be. He poked and prodded at that sore toe, while I squirmed and whimpered, all the time admonishing I should breath through the pain, much like I do with any intense impact play. After awhile, the throbbing toe pain began to melt into the rear door action, and I found myself very pedi-queer wet. Go figure…a new kink not already mentioned on my fetish list.
Satisfied he had rid me of the trespassing parts, he proceeded to paint the toes to match my nails. By this point, I wouldn’t have cared if he had painted the entire foot. I was desperately seeking relief, and flatly being denied. He took his sweet time with the polish, then led me to the kitchen, instructing me not to mess his paint job. I was quickly forced over the kitchen table, and entered from behind, he banging hard enough to knock the vintage bowl of fruit painting off the wall, sending it crashing to the floor with a huge bang. We came together, all sweat and moaning, and lucky me granted a two for one deal.
Afterwards, stretched out across our bed in Sir’s arms, I looked down at my feet. My right toe was slightly swollen, red and achy, and the polish extended over the nails in sloppy lines, making them appear to be alien blue worms attached to my feet. It was the messiest, sexiest, queerest pedicure I’d ever had…and I wondered, hopefully, if he could fit me in again next week.
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4 Replies
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Awesome !!! Now I want a Pedi_Queer ;o)
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OMG I want a pedi now too!
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Sirs Little Missy, that was awesome and had me laughing out loud on this quiet Sunday morning, while my sir reads the WSJ. You should consider writing a book, if you haven’t already! I anxiously await more posts from you.
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This is an awesome post. I don’t know how I missed it before. Hysterical!
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