The Indian Washerwoman’s feet, and that LOOK in the eye – both her, and her MOM!

Oh boy!

Years and years ago, I think more than 20 years ago yours truly visited the Indian subcontinent as a KID.

A young boy of about 12 or so, if I recall correctly . . . with as raging a foot fetish and other submissive tendencies as I do now.

And despite those being supposedly the “pre-Feminist” days in that part of the world, femdom was anything but NOT there.

I’ve written before about Perfect Madam Manju, and my eight grade Civics teacher, and perfect Goddess Shikha . . . JI! Before!

And the lovely Madam Vandana, of course.

bUt today, I’ll write about a lady whose name I never did ask, or know!

Near where we stayed, there was a small “shack”.

A “dhobis” family as it were. In those days and perhaps still now Indians (the middle class and upper classes) used to have their clothes washed, dried and ironed by these people (“pressed” as they would say!).

Hehe. Press her feet, press her clothes . . . ah, but I am getting carried away yet again!

And I believe (not sure, b ut that’s what I think) our family had a lady come in to do the washing, but we outsourced the ironing to the other “dhobi”.

A guy and his entire family.

Which meant him, his son, daughter and wife.

The son was much older than the daughter and wasn’t really to be seen a lot,  but the rest of them WERE.

Big time!

And the DAUGHTER was the most deliciously dominant of them all, without even trying, as well as her Mom.

One fine day, she delivered the ironed clothes back to my house.

I opened the door, and the first thing I saw was her, in makeup, and wearing SILVER nailpolish on her long slender arms and feet, and it set off her dark olive skin so perfectly!

And that long black hair, but most importantly the SNEER On her face as she sensed my instant LUST and arousal!

I gave her a “50 Rupee” note I believe, and as she handed the change back, she made sure to “drop” it into my palm with just THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF disdain!

“Just who does this rich boy think he is”, she was thinking. “Lusting after a Goddess like me!”

Yes, Ma’am.

You’re right.

Much like with Mahima Madam Ji, how dare I?? ?

And her mother was the same. Though not near as attractive, her eyes were even more aloof, commanding and dominant, and it’s no wonder she trained her lovely daughter to be the same way!

Often times when going to school I’d see this girl sitting on the roadside. Or the “shack” as it were.

With shoes / sandals off, and that lovely, dirty bare sole beckoning. And she’d never be looking directly at me of course.

But as I walked away, with a giant hard on almost most of the time, I could feel her eyes, those KNOWING eyes boring right into my back . . .

She knew.

She liked it.

And she was confident in her utter innate dominance over me and probably many others as well, and probably (now) her husband.

Paye LAgu, PERFECT Madam Ji! I don’t know your name, but I’ll always remember you with respect, reverence and of course (unfulfilled, yet unbridled) LUST!

Best,

Mike Watson

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