As you know, I've decided to post your most interesting letters when you make a real effort to write them.
This testimony recounts a very long session based almost exclusively on olfactory fetishism. I don't remember ever having kept someone for so long, devoting myself almost exclusively to this fetish. The subject in question is a German who has lived in Asia for years. His message was originally written in English but your teacher translated it for you. As it was really long, I divided it into two parts. Here is the first one:
So here is Theobald's message. He describes the session and emphasizes his feelings.
Hello Divine Mistress.
Below is my account of our wonderful last meeting. I hope you find it interesting enough to publish it on your site. I also hope to meet you again in mid-March during my next visit to Paris.
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As I entered Divine Jasmine's dim dungeon she stood before me clad in a pair of sturdy yet stylish black booties that accentuated every curve and contour on her wonderful legs. You could see that her boots had lived on her feet for a very long time. This was obvious from the scratches marking their surface as well as the dust and few stains that soiled them. I was satisfied because she agreed to my request to wear well-worn shoes.
She guided me towards the center of room where an ominous looking black object awaited my arrival - it was cold hard leather sarcophage designed specifically for one purpose only; confining helpless victim inside until ready release upon command.
With hands firmly gripping onto my arms, she led me down into darkness before securing lid tightly around edges ensuring no chance of escape while I struggled against unyieldingly strong material resisting every inch part within grasp feeling trapped like prisoner awaits execution without mercy or compassion.
As if things couldn't get any worse, Mistress Jasmine then proceeded to blindfold my eyes and gagged my mouth forcing me take deep breath through nostrils instead of usual way making each inhale feel more intense than ever imagined possible before finally giving into her demands by surrendering completely over mind body soul knowing full well she now holds all power within palm hand ready to strike whenever pleased, without warning.
As I am now firmly encased in this cold black sarcophagus, Mistress Jasmine begins to move my trapped body towards her red leather sofa where she is accustomed to sitting in session - intently watching each movement unfold like a fine dance. choreographed between the kidnapper and the victim, accomplices in this story of submission and power.
As we reached our final destination, her presence loomed over mine again, lowering herself onto the soft cushion before stretching her legs forward until they rested on my face, instantly transforming it into a makeshift footrest allowing every inch of her boot to touch my skin.
My nose was immediately invaded by a powerful scent of aged leather and sweat very familiar to shoe fetishists. "Sniff my boots!” was her order, crushing my nose under the soles of her boots.
As Mistress Jasmine continued sitting comfortably on her sofa and using my head as a footstool, she leaned forward slightly to grasp each boot before slowly but firmly removing them from her feet, revealing a pair of dirty, track-covered socks underneath. left after hours of walking with it throughout the day.
And then suddenly, Mistress Jasmine started pressing each boot hard on my nose one by one, sticking each inch tightly to the nostrils, to the point that it felt like the smell of her boots was filling the entire room.
Firstly came left boot, which, upon close inspection, appeared slightly more worn than the right due perhaps to overuse. But that didn't deter Mistress Jasmine as she continued to press it firmly against my face, forcing every inch against the nostrils to fill them with a complex, harmonious scent designed for amateurs.
Then suddenly came the right boot which seemed slightly less worn than the left but the smell was even stronger and more acidic.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity spent inhaling deeply through my nose while Mistress Jasmine continued forcing the two boots together, she released her grip on the boots, allowing them to fall back onto the ground next to my face, signaling the end of this particular scene while still leaving me wondering. What surprises does she have in store for me next?
With each boot now removed from their place on my nose, Mistress Jasmine began to move her legs, dangling them freely in the air with those worn white socks soaked with sweat and dust stains left after hours spent doing various activities.
And then suddenly, Mistress Jasmine pressed her left foot to my nose, forcing every inch of her sweet-smelling sock onto my nostrils, filling them with a tantalizing mixed scent of sweat, leather, and dust. Perfectly harmonious smell for experienced fetishists like me.
Then came the right foot which seemed slightly less soiled than the left - but oddly the smell was stronger as she continued to press it firmly against my face, forcing me to sniff her dirty sock very hard and feel its wetness on my face. through my skin.
Finally, after several dozen minutes of breathing deeply through my nose while Mistress Jasmine continued to force both of her feet firmly against my face, then one by one, she let her feet fall back to the floor, signaling the end of this wonderful scene.
Next came her wet and smelly feet after removing the socks with great care and precision, as if she wanted to preserve every last inch of stains. I noticed that some small areas were slightly black with a mixture of dust, textile fiber and sweat that would scare some people but drive extreme fetishists like me crazy. Each imperfection adding character to these feet which would soon become my obsession. They were soft and fluffy beyond the smell and wetness.
Then she asked me, “Are you done with shoe and foot perfumes?” I said “yes” through the gag she had imposed on me. She replies: “I’m the one who decides if you’re finished!”
Mistress Jasmine tied her boots to my face with a string so they were facing inwards; it was done with such precision that the shoes remained firmly against my face without falling at any time until she took them off.
Then, once her boots were successfully put tight on my face, things took an interesting turn when, out of nowhere, suddenly appeared this gigantic pile consisting of at least 20 pairs of worn shoes and socks! She began meticulously placing them on my head until every inch was completely covered in the fragrant material; it was like being buried alive under several layers composed mostly of sweat, dirt, and dust accumulated over the days since the last time these items had been properly cleaned. Then she said, “I’ll tell you when you’re done!”
I could sense a huge mound resting on my head, a pyramid of odorous objects that completely blocked all light. I was plunged into darkness and each breath passed through this mountain of intimate scents of Divine Jasmine.
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