August 20, 2011

I wish that I could say things have improved.  Certainly, things have changed, but neither for the better, or worse.  I think that I have finally learned my role in Noelle’s life.  I am not her friend, I am her slave, her toy, her pet, and when necessary, her one man cleaning crew.

Now, each of these roles does not come without its benefits and responsibilities.  Quite the opposite, really.  I am very well aware of when I am playing which role, and what boundaries I am given when playing that role.  It only took a few days to establish each part, and they cycle randomly every few hours.  

Today, it was cleaning, almost primarily.  And by cleaning, I do not mean cleaning her home, Noelle may be a slave-driver, but she is not unreasonable.  My task?  Cleaning Noelle herself.  Sometimes I think that Noelle only has me do things like this, so that I will feel like I have a job, like I have something to do, to keep my morale above the suicide level, which she doesn’t need to do, but I would never say that to her.

For example, a few days ago, one of my tasks was the remove the mucus from both her nose and ears.  She provided shreds of cotton, paper towels, assorted other supplies to help, but neither of us really considered how this was going to happen.  I’m pretty small, but not smaller enough to fit into Noelle’s nostril without seriously restricting her breathing.  The same goes for her ear canal, being about the same size.  Nonetheless, she assigned me the task.

I’m still not sure if she hadn’t realized that she could have done just as well, if not better, than me herself, or if she realized it, but didn’t want to appear soft by changing her plans, but the experience was not enjoyable for either of us.  

She had laid herself down on the couch, face up, and set me on her chin to navigate to her nostrils.  It was only a few steps, and I was soon standing on my knees, like a gold prospector inspecting a cave.  I sat there, my feet resting just above her lips, considering how I would attack the situation, when Noelle spoke. 

“Get started, before I decided to sneeze.”  And with that, I cringed, reaching in bare handed into the depths of Noelle’s nasal cavity. 

My body immediately rejected the sensation, and I wanted to pull my hand back out, but I knew that could be disastrous.  I didn’t want to end up back in her stomach, I’m pretty sure I would not be coming out next time, at least not the way I had entered.  With that thought in mind, I dug deeper, until my shoulder was pushing up against her nose.  Finding no obstruction immediately, I moved my hand closer to the wall of the nose, and found my hand in a thickening mess of snot.  A shudder went down my spine, but I kept grabbing at it, until I had found enough to grab.  Finding that I could not pull it away with a single hand, I shifted, and inserted my left hand as well.  Now, with my entire plastered again Noelle’s right nostril, I felt her breathing increase in pressure, especially though the other nostril. 
“What are you doing in there?  I said clean it out!”  She spoke, a little more agitated.  Using a little more force, I began to pull, feeling a very distinct resistance from Noelle’s snot.  Like any level headed slave, instead of investigating the cause of the problem, I just pulled harder, and harder.  With no sign of relent, I finally reset my grip, took a deep breath and pulled with all my might, in one mighty tug.

“OW!”  Was all I got to hear, but I’m sure there were more words to follow.  Unfortunately, I was too busy cascading across the room, due to Noelle suddenly moving to an upright position, and tossing me off of her face, to the floor on the other side of the room.  I must have blacked out for a few seconds upon impact in the carpet, because I woke up with a swelling headache, and holding a short, blonde nose hair in my mucus covered arm. 

Needless to say, we didn’t try that again, and I never found myself inside her ear either.

A few hours later, I was freed from being held in a plastic cup above the cupboard in the kitchen, and given a new assignment.  This time, paint Noelle’s toenails.  She explained that she needed to be sure I could handle the task, before moving on to her fingernails, because she could always hide a bad pedicure with sneakers.

Given my previous experiences with Noelle’s feet, I can’t say that I was necessarily looking forward to the work, but it was better than the threat of spending the day inside her shoe, which she’d threatened to do for screwing this up, too.  She poured some nail polish into a bottle cap, and set me on the floor with a few of those shredded rags, then sat at the couch in front of me to watch TV while I worked.

Noelle’s toes were the most beautiful, perfectly formed toes that I’d ever seen.  But I may be biased, I’d never seen paid much attention to women’s feet until I’d spent so much time around Noelle’s.  Her biggest toe was only an inch or two taller than me, the others, my height, or shorter.  The toenails were unpainted, which I was relieved to see, it would have taken an hour or more to remove the paint, and I didn’t expect her to sit here for two or three hours while I did the whole job, when she could go to a nail salon and get a better job done in less than half the time. 

I caught myself day dreaming, and was stirred from it by Noelle’s powerful foot tapping one single time, reminding me that it was her own time that I was wasting, not mine.  Seeing that expansive sole of hers crush the tiny carpet fibers that were unfortunate enough to wind up under it was enough motivation to send me running to the pile of rags, dip it into the deep purple lacquer, and begin my work.  

The smallest toe seemed like a logical place to start, so that by the time I reach her biggest toe, I would have a better idea of what I was doing for the more noticeable toes.  The pinky toe only came up to about my waist, so I decided to attack it as if I were washing the hood of my car.  There was about as much surface area, too, so in no time, I found that I had already moved on for the next toe, a little taller, but not out of reach.

I had thought that being this close to my goddess’ feet would offer some kind of musky, feminine smell of sweat, and it did, but I was not repulsed by it, like I expected to be.  It hinted with the scent of some sort of generic lotion, but I found myself able to ignore it.   

As time passed though, I felt myself getting light-headed from the smell of the nail paint, and my pace slowed, especially as I reached the third toe, which was out of my reach.  If I was having trouble here, the biggest toe would seem impossible.  

I was still, however, humbled by my size.  Noelle had remained incredibly still, only every few minutes would her toes wiggle, knocking me off my balance.  Over the course of my painting, Noelle, too, had realized my inability to paint her biggest toe, and once I had gotten to that point, she lifted the paint from the floor, and set it on the plain of her foot.  I was left to climb her toes to reach it.  It wasn’t much of a challenge though, and once I had scaled the warm, tanned digits of my goddess’ lovely foot, I immediately got to work.

Her biggest toe ended up being the easiest, for the most part; it was just, well, bigger.  I made more trips back and forth between the paint and the toenail than with all the other toes combined.  I could feel the warmth of the blood surging through her toes directly under me, and imagined, briefly, what it would be like to serve her in that capacity, to be a simple cell in her bloodstream.  To live out my life in service to her body, with millions of other cells.   

The smell of the paint must have been stronger than I expected though, because in the middle of my fantasy, I felt light-headed.  Just as I was about to call out to her for help, I lost motor function, and stumbled towards her toes again, falling over onto her still wet big toenail, unconscious.

It must have been several minutes before Noelle realized that I was no longer working, and glanced down to see me face down onto her toenail, covered in the paint.  

“I can’t believe he’s taking a break…he hasn’t even gotten to my other foot yet.  I’ll show him who takes a break.”  Noelle though to herself, and carefully reached down, removing the paint cap from her foot.  Then, being even more careful, she leaned back and crossed her leg, over the other, bouncing her foot gently, the foot that I happened to be painted to the toe of. 

I suppose the wind blowing about was enough to inflate my lungs with oxygen again, and I took a deep breath, but opened my eyes to find myself holding on for dear life to her toe.  The paint I was laying in was drying, but had not gotten hard yet.  At most, if was like wet glue to my tiny form.

“Goddess Noelle,” Her name, when I was her servant boy, “help me!”  I whimpered, desperately attempting to climb across the surface of the toenail, to meet the flesh of her foot. 

“Why should I help, when you couldn’t even paint my toes for me?”  She spoke, slowing her pace, but splaying her toes apart briefly.  I managed to pull myself to a safer position, and once I did, she finally set her foot back down.  “You can’t even manage to give me a pedicure without needing to take a nap.  How useless.”  

I kept breathing heavily; even when she leaned down to gently push me off of her toe, landing me with a thud back on the carpet. 

“Gonna have to find a better use for you, huh?  Clean yourself up.”  But before I could ask how, or even catch my breath, Noelle had stood once again, uncaringly walking away.  I felt her powerful footsteps carrying her away, though my eyes were closed, and I couldn’t see.

But even through all this, I thought about those tiny cells, all working so hard to make her body what it is.  I was the only one who could really see how wonderful it all is, how perfect she is.

How magnificent.