Miss Lois came online on a Sunday morning, asking me if I was feeling better today as my messages to her in the last few days were a bit depressing. I wasn’t feeling that much better that day, but it was only 9 am by then.
Miss Lois told me that I was going to get naked, put on my high boots and to take a picture of myself from the front, side and back.
I’m not going to lie. I was quite comfy in bed and with my mood didn’t have a desire to get up, much less get naked and feel cold. But I can’t disobey and I know that while she enjoys this, she was also doing it for me. Serving her could help me get out of this depression episode.
She then told me to take a picture of myself in the most humiliating position that I could think off… which… I hate this. Having to come up with positions myself because I’m not sure what’s embarrassing exactly because I don’t always feel certain positions as embarrassing. Additionally having to think of one myself makes me worry because what if it’s not good enough?
I told her that nothing really felt humiliating at the moment, which was probably partially due to my mood. So I tried a picture and she said it was a good start, surprised that I didn’t find the picture humiliating.
Miss Lois: “What do you think your friend would come up with if I would ask him for a position for you?”
(I knew they were talking now but it was kind of out of nowhere when Miss Lois could suddenly very much remind me that this was the case.)
I didn’t really know the answer to her question. I can’t remember how it made me feel either, but overall I didn’t think him thinking up positions was that embarrassing, that day.
She asked me how wet I was, which was quite wet. I always tend to get wet by taking pictures for Miss Lois. More wet than I thought I would.
She told me to go on all fours and to take a picture of me licking my stilettos.
For the first two, I took my right arm was in the way, as I was using it to balance myself, I guess. Yet, I thought the pictures looked quite good. I never had anything with licking shoes (and still don’t) but seeing myself in that position intrigued me in some way. Being on the floor like that with my butt in the air reminds me a bit of being an animal. And certainly of being a slave!
I retook the picture with my arm on my back, licking the tip of the stilettos, the upper back and the heels.
Miss Lois: “Do you want to know what Will suggested for your humiliating picture?”
I guess that seemed fair? Still, because she gave me the choice I wondered if that meant that choosing it was a bad idea. But of course, I wanted to know. And I mentioned that I was dripping wet even though my mind still felt super indifferent.
My friend: “I’d have her wear heels and her mask. Then I’d have her legs spread as wide as she can, pushing her chest against her desk, with her hands spreading her ass cheeks. The picture would be taken from the bed.”
I just kind of laughed in response to this.
It was kind of hard to make the picture work. In the first one, I couldn’t get the shoes in the frame. The second picture was better but still, the heels weren’t in the frame entirely. But the third one was good!
Afterwards, I jumped back under the blankets in my bed but of course, I wasn’t allowed to stay there.
Miss Lois: “Now make yourself squirt and catch the squirt on a bowl or a plate, whatever works.”
She commented that there was quite a lot of squirt today and asked me if I had enjoyed it, and thanked me for the image.
I didn’t really know if I enjoyed it. It was just kinda a thing I had to do. I reflected that I liked the images tho, thinking I looked alright body wise and she commented that I have a very nice body.
Miss Lois: “Now wipe all the squirt up with a thong.”
I knew where this was going… I sent her a picture of the thong in the squirt and was then, of course, told to put the thong in my mouth… always lovely. She wanted me to take a picture with it in my mouth, and to specifically try and hang it out of my mouth, which looked kind of funny haha.
I hadn’t necessarily expected this, but I also wasn’t surprised that she then told me to put them on…
Miss Lois: “And don’t take it off for the whole day.”
I was definitely less happy with that. The thong was cold and wet and… eh… I didn’t fancy wearing it underneath anything else and what if the thong would make my trousers wet so people could see?
She asked me again how wet I was, which was dripping wet by this point. However, my mind couldn’t feel any of it.
Miss Lois: “Imagine that you could feel all of that arousal.”
I remarked that I could only picture what it could be like, but that I, of course, couldn’t feel it.
Miss Lois: “Yet.”
It’s very interesting for me to write these posts now and to look back. I can feel arousal nowadays. I don’t really have to check if I’m wet anymore to know. I just know and subsequently often also feel that I’m wet without having to touch myself. It’s even more interesting because I remember being so sceptical back then, not believing that this could change at all.
But for this session, it didn’t seem like it had been able to pierce through my depressive state entirely. I did feel slightly better and managed to get out of it myself later.