Submit

You feel a tinge of hesitation partly out of sheer immobilizing panic, and partly out of a sense that throwing yourself submissively at the feet of this man will be relinquishing your own manhood. But as he rapidly closes the gap to thirty feet, then twenty, you realize that you have . You drop to your knees, then fall forward, bowing down, and then prostrate yourself, your arms out to your sides, your elbows bent with your hands reaching toward the charging man.

You hear him come to a stop a few feet away from you. You find yourself trembling with fear and something else--something you cannot quite identify. It is something like disgust at yourself, but there is a deeper vein in it that is something else entirely; but you don't have any time to think about it. Your eyes are jammed shut, your heart is racing, and over the wash of the waves on the shore all you can hear is the man breathing hard as he stands over you. It is not out of exertion, but aggression, as evidenced by the low rumbling in his throat as he exhales. It feels like ten minutes pass with nothing more than you lying on your face, trembling, listening to him breathe over you, but it is really only a few seconds before he starts shuffling his feet with what you can only intuit is a desire to exert his power and dominance over you, but he seems to have a degree of uncertainty. Perhaps, you think, you are the first person he has seen in a very long time--maybe even the first person he can ever remember seeing--so he is anxious about you. He sounds like his aggression is barely restrained, and you would not be surprised if he suddenly attacked you, even in your prostrate, submissive position.

Before you can stop yourself, you lift your head just slightly off the ground. Whatever you are going to do, you need to know exactly what the situation is. You see his feet now just a few feet away from you. Instinctively, you stretch your hands out toward them.

He steps back, grunting in alarm, then steps forward again, rumbling aggressively in his throat.

"It's all right," you say from the ground, not at all sure that he will understand you. "I won't hurt you," you say. "You're in charge, all right?"

He growls, then roars at you. You are now fairly certain he doesn't understand you. But you need him to understand what you are trying to tell him. Looking up from the ground at him, you drag yourself as slowly and unthreateningly as you can toward his feet, and before you know it, you have pressed your lips to the top of his left foot.

You kiss his foot. His bare feet are as bronzed as the rest of his body. They are big and powerful-looking, with veins coursing visibly across the top of them, tendons anxiously pulling on his nervous toes. You kiss his foot again, and again.

He seems to be relaxing, as your behavior seems to be sending him a primal message that you are submitting completely to him. You keep kissing his feet over and over again, and you suddenly realize that your hands have reached up and are now caressing his feet as your lips move over them with increasing passion.

You can barely wrap your mind around what you are doing. You started this because you were afraid of him beating you to a pulp, and that is still a very distinct possibility. You wanted him to know that you weren't a threat, that you would let him be in charge, but as much as it might be sending him a primal message, it seems to be sending you a primal message as well, and you feel a sudden insane urge to slip your tongue out of your mouth and start licking his feet. There is something that tells you that if you do this, you have crossed a line from which there is no hope of returning, but the urge keeps getting stronger and stronger.