Some six weeks had now elapsed since the arrival of Aunt Audrey. So far, the love that had gripped me for her had held me obedient to her every command. Above all, I had a thing for her lovely turned feet and cunning little shoes, in which predilections I knew that at the very least I could expect some kind of fulfilment. I feared also that direct disobedience to my aunt's wishes (which I now knew to be tantamount to blasphemy) would lead to the loss of such fulfilment, if not something worse.
Aunt Audrey suggested that we go up to the drawing room, which had a view of the garden and was not observed in any way. As she walked upstairs ahead of me, I couldn't help but admire her attractive figure; her light dress of muslin and single petticoat, although often encumbering her draperies immensely, did nonetheless serve as a reminder of her femininity and beauty which served to arouse the fierce fire in my heart. She sat down on a camel backed sofa, throwing herself fully back, one sheer white cotton stocking over the other, seemingly unaware that she was carrying her petticoats up with the action, and exposing herself up to the garter. All of a sudden, the sore conflict in my heart was re-ignited and I could bear it no longer. Finally, after six long weeks of resistance, I went over to her and knelt at her feet.
"${name}, Why have you kneeled?" she asked. Her tone of voice clearly expressing her disappointment that I had not done so sooner; it was apparent she desired my pleasure as her due.
"It is around here that I wish to remain until you permit me otherwise," I said without looking at her out of my own embarrassment. I felt the presence of her toes getting closer to my hands subserviently before her, and my brow burned as if the firing squad had taken up position. Finally, I felt her feet softly caressing the top of my head as she slowly pressed me down into the floor below; she had trapped me there under the loving mercy of her feet clad in white stockings,