Chapter Eight
Although I often suffered at her hands, I loved the times when I was alone with my goddess Emma. She was Good Cop, Bad Cop rolled into one. She would hurt and humiliate me one moment and then be considerate and tender the next, almost treating me like a lover. Sometimes her anger seemed to crackle like faraway lightning before a storm breaks but at other times it was a bolt from the blue.
Emma had obviously recognised I had a foot fetish because she started to pad about in bare feet and would indicate with a sweep of the hand or just a downward glance that I was to attend to them. I thought of it as making love to her. Her feet were so pretty and in perfect condition, no corns or calluses, warts or bunions, and no hard patches even on the heels, no discolouration, beautifu
