Foot Worship: The Training of A Foot Slave

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As I already told you, this isn’t cheesy fetish-fiction, and thereby developed naturally, at least that’s how it felt to me.

Your mistress is punishing you, so sniff loud and clearly, so I can hear how you enjoy the sweaty, disgusting smell of my beloved boots.We took a few minutes to recover a bit, I tried to calm my exploding heart and aching pants, and savored the taste in my mouth, tried to ache the smell, taste and form of her feet forever in my memories so I would never, ever forget them.

To me, it showed a huge amount of dominance and power which she surely had over me already with only 8 words being exchanged between us. Without saying anything she climbed on top of me again forcing me under the surface, eventually rising up onto her knees then feet as she used my back and head as the first and second step of the ladder to the boat.Sometimes when she came home from a lecture in the university she was too exhausted to go to her room and just let herself fall in her chair in the living room, peeling her boots off. I opened my mouth wide and puth her toes in my mouth and as promised she wiggled and moved them playfully, forced my tongue between her toes and played with it like a toy.

And to clear out any eventual confusion about her sudden change of personality, let me tell you what happened just after my punishment before we jump forward in time. I started out by massaging slowly with my right hand as I dried with the cloth in my left which I could tell she was very satisfied with due to her flexing her toes in reaction to my caresses. When she opened the door Goddess was wearing the patent leather pumps I had bought her a few months ago for Valentines Day. I waited for her to remove the socks, but instead she crouched down, her lips forming a mean, lovely smile that sent shivers down my spine.Her arms where on her hips and the smile on her face was gone, instead she looked me expectant and forced-serious in the eyes. It was a mixture from salt, grimm bitterness, the sour taste of the worn-out fabric and a subtle, sweet note that topped it all off. Rebecca got more bold, more dominant bit by bit, but even now, she still didn’t throw me into a rape-dungeon.

My grip on Master Haku’s feet was slipping from all of the sweat and the fact that they were so huge. I felt I started sweating, and not because of the heat but because I had no idea how much exactly my friend knew or suspected.After a full thirty minutes of just cleaning her soles, they were by far lighter and less dirty than when I started, and my whole mouth was full with their taste. I continued to stare at Master Haku’s feet as I massaged them, trying to keep my mind away from the conversation. People were simply looking forward to enjoying an amazing booze cruise and getting drunk to the point where they would be trying to balance even once off the boat.