Riya kisses my feet

Author's note: This is the start of a path that involves Dom/sub, humiliation and some race play. It is not for everyone, (honestly, I'm more than a little uncomfortable writing it) but we'll see how it goes.

“You may go, Riya,” I step back and give her room to climb off the marble top counter, timing the next line carefully, “as soon as you get down on the floor and kiss my feet.”

“What!” I smile at the look of shock and indignation on Riya's. In spite of everything that has happened, this privileged Indian debutant still has a long way to go before she is broken.

“You heard me, Miss Kapadia.” Pointing to the tiles at my feet I continue calmly and confidently. “Get down on your knees and kiss my feet.” When she still glowers at me angrily, I remind her of the alternative. “Unless you want to hand over your pawned jewelry and head back to that shit-hole motel you were living in?” Riya's defiance is gone as quickly as it surfaced.

I am right in my assessment that Riya will do anything to avoid another night in that skanky motel and with a sniffle of surrender she lowers herself to the floor and presses her lips to my dirty work-shoes.

“I said, 'kiss my feet', Miss Kapadia, not my shoes.” After taking it easy with the belt, I figure it is only fair that I make Riya suffer a little this way. It is after all supposed to be a punishment. After what she explained about the significance of feet in Eastern cultures, to her I imagine this is not unlike me telling her to rub my crotch in her face. Her hesitation is even more fleeting this time before she reaches for my shoes.

A minute later, Riya has removed my shoes and socks and this time I feel her full lips kissing my bare flesh. I lean back against the kitchen table and lift first one foot and then the other to press against her soft cheeks as she clasps my feet in her small hands and kisses them obediently.

“Are you going to lie to me, again?” I ask as she finishes kissing the second foot again and again.

“No, Sir, I 'm sorry Sir.”

To be honest, I've never understood the whole foot fetish thing, but I have to admit that having a naked, caramel-skinned woman kneeling in front of me and kissing my dirty feet is a bit of a turn-on. I briefly consider making Riya suck my toes but decide that I have pushed my luck about as far as I dare.

“Good girl.” I point to the biryani boxes on the table, “Once you've cleaned up this mess, you are dismissed for the night.” Riya looks up at me from her knees surprised by her sudden reprieve. “Oh, and get yourself cleaned up too; you still stink of curry and burnt chicken.” This last insult seems to hit particularly hard, and I wonder if she has ever had anyone tell her she was dirty before.

As she gathers together her clothes, I remind her of her that she is still a student as well as my maid. “Make sure you finish any homework you need to; taking care of my house is no excuse to neglect your studies.”