Foot Worship From My Slave Girl
She knelt at my bare feet, at first glance appearing to be the epitome of submission. Naked except for her collar, the girl was kneeling on the floor by where I sat one leg crossed over the other clothed in my latex dress on the comfortable chair. She sat on her heels with her head bowed. Her gorgeous long hair partially covered her face due to her traditional submissive stance.
Knowing she wouldn’t dare look up, I smiled to myself at the girl’s attitude. So many signs that would-be voyeurs wouldn’t notice – but which always betray her brazenness to me.
Kneeling beautifully – but so close to my bare feet I could feel her hot and hungry breath over my toes. Head bowed –undoubtedly so I didn’t see and punish the unbridled want in her eyes, and the proud twist in her unapologetic bright red lipsticked lips. They’d got her into trouble enough times as it was. Long hair loose and half-hiding her face – not coyness, but to both hide her own smiles and to enjoy the sensation of her hair tickling and teasing her already stiff nipples. Her hands placed on her thighs in front of her – not symbolic platitude, but so her arms cradled and supported her generous tits, pushing them up and forwards. Those excited dark pink nipples were proudly presented for my delectation. I took a moment to idly fantasise about reaching down and taking one in each finger and thumb and twisting them til she screamed. My cunt was already wet but now the wetness pooled at the inside of my thighs, then slowly spread to the latex material beneath my arse.
I took a deep breath and answered the question she’d asked me a moment earlier.
“Yes, little foot slut; you may worship my feet. Make sure you do a thorough job or you won’t touch them again for a long time.”
Her reply was full of barely concealed excitement and she just managed to stop herself before she ruined everything by looking up at me. Looking up at Mistress’ face is strictly forbidden unless given express permission. Or a direct command, of course.
From previous foot worship sessions, the girl knew she was only allowed to touch with her mouth. No other part of her body. No hands, and definitely no humping. As I’d told her enough times, her mouth is for serving Mistress. In whatever way I require. Quite aside from acting as my real life Sybian, licking my pussy whenever I want it and tongue-swirling my clit, it just so happens that she has the most deeply ingrained foot fetish I’ve ever seen in a woman. In fact, she might enjoy mouth-worshipping my feet even more than she enjoys shoving her tongue deep into my cunt. And she so enjoys having her tongue buried inside my cunt.
She carefully moved her hair out of the way so it wouldn’t accidentally brush against my leg as she moved closer, ready to begin. With one hand around her hair and the other steadying herself on the floor, she brought those full, smeared red lips to their favourite destination. My right foot first, which had been dangling so teasingly close to her face and which was swung over my left grounding me on the floor beneath the chair.
Her delicate, respectful kisses to each toe left faint red lipstick marks which contrasted with the silver nail polish she’d applied during my pedicure the previous evening. Each time her lips made their connection with my toes, a tingle surged through my body, like electricity connecting from deep within my cunt to my clit and then up to both my naked-beneath-latex nipples and finally catching in my throat. The potential energy of an orgasm yet to come.
Satisfied that she’d given enough of a worshipful welcome to my toes, the girl moved to kissing the thin skin above my painted and now red smeared toe-nails. As much as I dominated and controlled my slave girl, the desire to reach down underneath my short latex dress and use the pussy juices which had pooled there to finger fuck myself to a fast orgasm was almost unbearable. I contented myself with concentrating on the sensations from her mouth to my foot and contemplating how I’d make her pay for my distractions later.
Her own cheeks were flushed almost as red as the lipstick marks she was leaving on the top of my foot. It was so obviously a struggle for her, too; when kneeling by my feet all she wanted was to kiss my feet, but when allowed to worship them in this way her greedy slut heart wanted even more. It took all her self-control not to straddle my dangling-in-mid-air foot and rub her own shaven smooth and glisteningly wet pussy hard on it, humping herself to a powerful orgasm.
That image did distract me for a moment, such an entertaining thought. Not so much for the sensations of a foot hump session, although that would be sexy in its own right. No, more for the punishment the girl would be awarded for her greed, lack of self-control and disobedience afterwards. She definitely wouldn’t be rubbing her pussy on anything else for a while.
Coming back to the present, the girl was doing a good job of maintaining some semblance of self-control and had completed her kiss-journey over my foot. It had taken some time but with strict training she’d finally learned to show patience in her foot worship. Small, respectful kisses first, tongue later. A gradual build. I want to know and see that she can show that level of self-control. I also want to sadistically enjoy her suffering as she struggles not to just drool all over my feet and shove all my toes into her mouth at once like some badly trained puppy. Yes, she was doing well. Good. I wanted her to earn the right to give me the orgasms I was becoming increasingly desperate for myself.
Her tongue hesitantly darted out to feel underneath my small toe and she was sure to keep her eyes turned downward the whole time. I knew she’d be tasting the warmth from the day under each toe, then moving to flick her tongue lovingly between each toe, too. My feet were still clammy from being cooped up inside the thigh-high boots all day, boots which she’d expertly unlaced and removed. Standing around in high heeled boots for hours gave my feet an overlaid scent of leather as well as the slightly salty musk of sweat and the faint hint of body wash from my morning shower.
I knew she was in foot worship paradise right now. I too was enjoying the sensations of her tongue lavishing attention to each toe, underneath, between and finally popping each toe in her mouth one after the other sucking gently to clean. Each toe got its own mini blow-job and my mini dick, my clit, was throbbing rather painfully to get its own attention. My mind kept darting between enjoying the sensations the girl was enthusiastically lavishing on my foot, and wondering how much of a power exchange disturbance it would be to shove her head between my thighs right then and there and hump my cunt over her face til I came loudly.
She looked beautiful in this moment, more so than any other time. Probably because she was doing what she was made for, to give oral love to her Mistress’ feet. I could see her breasts swaying this way and that and knew there’d be a puddle for her tongue to attend to beneath her on the wooden floor once she’d finished, before being used to mop up my own wetness. Even the mess that was now my right foot looked beautiful to me; the contrast of red lipstick rings round each toe and red lip marks covering the top of my foot to my porcelain skin. This foot worship was foreplay for us, charging our libidinous bodies with the potential for several explosive orgasms each over the course of the night.
But first, she had the other foot to beg for. And I had a renewed struggle not to touch myself – or her – until she was done.
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