Foot Massage

It is one of the simplest, gentlest kinds of service. He loves it, when I massage His feet. It relaxes Him completely, in a way that demands nothing at all from Him -- He does not need to participate or direct or reciprocate or anticipate any sort of response at all. The foot massage is purely a sensual, relaxation experience.

So it was, close to midnight on Friday as we crawled into bed, and He mentioned that His feet were aching and tired, that I asked if He wanted His feet rubbed. He fussed some that it was late and I was tired. I told Him that it was not difficult at all. I simply grabbed a light comforter so that I could shift to the other end of the bed and not FREEZE in the air conditioning, and set to work.

I have no formal training, but I do have lengthy association with a body worker/massage therapist friend, who shared her skills with me for many years. So I do have some knowledge.

I curled around His feet and ankles, and worked on His soles and toes and calves. I really couldn't see His face, but I could hear the contented noises from the other end of the bed. Happy Master sounds, and the occasional "thank you -- that feels wonderful" floating my way. I kneaded and rubbed and stretched and pulled and stroked. First one foot and then the other, as the evening wove its way into the purple darkness.

It calmed Him, and it calmed me as well. Sometime later, He was shaking me awake. I'd fallen asleep cuddled happily wrapped up around His feet, dreaming happily, and peacefully -- entirely contented in His service. I imagine I could have slept there just fine except that He much prefers me curled into the crook of His arm, and is not particularly fond of having my feet in His face.

swan