Foot Worship

The searing pain of the wedgie lingered as you lay trembling on the floor, humiliation rooting you to the ground. Jess paced back and forth across the room, her boots clicking with a measured rhythm on the carpeted floor.

She stopped and strode over to you, her white dress clinging to every curve, the heels of her boots giving her an air of intimidating elegance. When you tried to look up, she pushed your face back down with a firm press of her boot. Her beauty, mixed with a relentless cruelty, held you in a grip you couldn’t seem to break. The more she humiliated you, the deeper her spell seemed to pull you, and a strange desire to serve her began to wash over you. You'd entered this house a fearless burglar; now you lay powerless beneath her, sinking lower than you’d ever imagined. And yet, some hidden part of you craved to sink even further.

Jess leaned down, finally releasing the painful wedgie. The relief was instant as the fabric snapped back into place, though the sting of shame remained. She commanded you to return to your knees, and you obeyed, your eyes lowering as she looked down at you.

Her hand cupped your cheek, sending an unsteady tremor through you as she stroked it softly, her touch somehow both comforting and electrifying.

"Now that you’re stripped of your suit—and your dignity—it's time to really serve me," she murmured, her voice a dangerously sweet whisper. "I want you to obey, not just because of the police or some punishment hanging over you, but because you want to serve me. Because you’re too pathetic to do anything else."

"Yes, Mistress," you replied, the words leaving your lips almost unbidden. The notion of escape was a distant memory now, overridden by an urge to please her, to see how much further you could fall.

With a firm grip on your hair, she pulled you forward, leading you to the foot of her bed. You crawled on all fours, struggling to keep up with her long, confident strides, the boots swaying hypnotically in your line of sight.

When they reached the bed, she perched on the edge, letting her legs drape over your back, using you as a footrest with a sigh of satisfaction.

"God, it feels good up here," she teased, laughter lacing her words.

You felt the pressure of her boots on your back as you stayed still, holding the position without question.

"Now, listen up," she said sharply. "These boots have been killing my feet, and I'm too tired to take them off myself."

You couldn’t see, but you could hear the sounds of her slipping each boot off, discarding them carelessly before she placed her feet back on your back with another sigh, stretching her legs and scrolling casually through her phone as you stayed there in silent obedience.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally motioned for you to kneel in front of her. When you looked up, you saw her feet encased in short, worn ankle socks, damp with the day's wear.

Jess lifted one socked foot toward your face, the pungent scent overwhelming your senses. She chuckled, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I’ve been wearing these socks under my boots all day. Want a closer smell, my little burglar?"

You wanted to refuse, to pull away, but her gaze held you there, reminding you just how little control you had left. She pressed her socked foot firmly against your face, forcing you to inhale the sharp, sweaty scent. Strangely, the more you inhaled, the deeper the feeling of submission seeped into you, and her mocking laughter only intensified that craving.

After a moment, she eased her foot away and allowed you a breath of fresh air, only to command, "Kiss it."

Without hesitation, you leaned forward, placing a reverent kiss on the sole of her sock, surrendering completely to her power.