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  1. Here's another true story for my second post! This experience was and still is very special to me and I thought I would share. I can't remember the exact shoe size but I would guess around 5 1/2 - 6. This story takes place a little after my high school graduation. But to start, we have to go back just a little bit before my graduation to Memorial Day weekend. My family and I took a day trip down to the beach to go boating with a very close family friend of ours. I was there with my mom, my siblings, my aunt, and a close friend of my mom and aunts who's name is Donna. Donna was the lady who owned the boat and she also owned this little shop that's rights on the beach. The shop sold a variety of different things like tackle, fishing gear, boat supplies, food, snacks, drinks, beach toys, swimwear, and a bunch of other beach and aquatic related products. There was also a little restaurant inside. She ran the shop with her husband at the time and this other girl named Marianna who lived close by. Back to Memorial Day weekend. We get down to the beach and arrive at her store to find her and her husband there. Donna had invited us down to go boating and to have a cookout on the beach. When we arrived, her husband, Stan, stayed with the store and Donna took us out on her boat. Donna is not a very tall woman, probably about 5' 5" and had curly dark hair. She was in her late 40s at this point but was still very attractive, despite a few wrinkles. (but I find those attractive) She also had very large breasts and it was hard to look at her in her bathing suit without your eyes being sucked straight to her chest. Her boobs were very saggy but that turned me on even more. However, the whole time on the boat the thing I was staring at the most were her feet. Her feet were so adorable. They were very small and her soles were very mature. All her toes were about the same length and looked so "suckable". She also had some amazing wrinkles on the bottom of her feet, mostly because of her age, but I wanted to bury my face so deep into her feet. We had been on the boat for awhile and I didn't really talk too much to Donna. She would be having conversation with my mom and aunt and I was more focused on her feet in the black flip flops she was wearing. However at one point I had tuned into the conversation and caught the very end. I wasn't listening to the full chat so I'm not entirely sure as to exactly what they were discussing, but I very distinctly remember hearing Donna say "Oh yeah I absolutely love having my feet touched". Within about 4 seconds of hearing those words I felt an errection coming on and I quickly adjusted my seating to try and stop it from growing. The conversation ended pretty soon after that and they started talking about other stuff so I'm not too sure exactly how the conversation started, but those words stuck in my head for the rest of the day. The rest of the time on the boat I was imagining giving her a foot massage and rubbing my face all over her wrinkly, mature soles. I honestly wanted to tell her right then and there that I would touch her feet whenever she wanted. Later on that night after our cookout and right before we were about to head back home, Donna came up to me to ask me a question. She told me that Marianna was going to be out of the country for all of summer and there would be some very specific weeks during summer that she would need some extra help. She explained how there are always certain weeks during summer when the shop is very busy and instead of having to go through the whole process of hiring someone, she wanted to just bring in someone who she knew and pay then under the table. Of course, me thinking about her words on the boat earlier, I immediately agreed and told her whatever week she needed me I would be ready. She took down my cell phone number and told me she looked forward to it. By the middle of summer I had completely forgot about the whole ordeal, until one day when I got a text from Donna asking if I was still interested in helping out in the shop. Almost instantly, my mind jumps straight to Donna's feet and how she said she loved to have them touched. I responded quicker than lighting and told her I was ready to work. She told me that she lived in an apartment now and I would stay there with her. (She had lived in a house back during Memorial Day and originally told me I would stay in the guest bedroom there) I wasn't sure why she lived in an appartment now but I didn't care. All I could think about were those mature wrinkly feet and those adorable little toes. That Sunday night I was all packed and made the 2 hour drive down to the beach to start working Monday morning. The whole way down I tried to think of clever things to say and do to try and get to touch Donna's feet. I came up with a few decent schemes. Upon arriving at the apartment, I was surprised to only see her there. It had only been a few months but Donna looked very different. She seemed very stressed out and looked kind of sad in a way. I asked her where Stan was and she told me that her and Stan had just gotten a divorce. She mentioned how she wanted to get in touch with me sooner but had been dealing with the divorce and could only contact me now. The divorce was also why she lived in the apartment now. She then told me about how she needed a lot of extra help now because she no longer had Stan there to help in the shop. Thinking back on it, in the car on the way home from being there for Memorial Day I remembered my mother and aunt talking about how they both thought Donna and Stan were going to divorce soon. As Donna continued to tell me what had happened she began to cry. I didn't know what to do so I gave her a hug and tried to console her. She ended up crying in my arms for about 3-4. After she had dried her tears, she told me we had a big day ahead of us and I needed to get some sleep. Her apartment was only a single bedroom so I had to sleep on the couch but I was okay with that. Mostly because I wasn't too far from the door where all her shoes were. About an hour after Donna was asleep I made my way over to her shoe collection and began sniffing every pair I could see. The two stinkiest shoes there were a pair of red flats and some black toms. I brought one of each to the bathroom and alternated sniffing them while I masturbated. They smelled so good I came in about 2 minutes. The next day we woke up ridiculously early and headed to the shop to open up. I ran the cash register and helped cook some food while Donna handled everything else. (There were two Hispanic cooks there who worked in the little restaurant and only one of them could speak English. There were both amazing chefs and showed me how to work wonders when you are limited on supply's. Aside from that, Donna pretty much took care of everything. I watched her all day work so hard and constantly search for busy work like she had a manager scrutinizing her. I could tell she was just trying to keep her mind focused on work though. I figured. I might be able to use this as a golden opportunity. After a a very long day at the shop, we finally got to head back to Donna's apartment. There was only one shower so we had to take turns and I went first. When I was out I went into the living room to find Donna sitting on the couch drinking a glass of wine. I sat down next to her and began to make my move. I still remember this moment like it was yesterday. "Wow" I said, "you worked really hard today Miss Donna. I didn't realize you had to do all those tasks by yourself". She responded with "Well it happens when you add another persons responsibilities to yours (referring to her ex husbands old duties) but it's okay it helps me to keep my mind off things". "Yeah I guess that's a plus", I said. Donna followed with "It is. And plus, I love my little shop. Now that Stan is gone the store is really all I have". She took a sip of her wine and I paused for a moment because the conversation started to get a bit sad. After about 10 seconds of silence I said "Well I'm sure you're still extremely tired and worn out from today. Would you like a foot massage or anything?" Immediately her eyes got wide and she said "Oh please that would be lovely" with a slight tone of excitement. She chugged the rest of her wine, poured herself another glass, reclined back in the couch and placed both of her barefeet right into my lap. I took one glance at her mature soles and my dick instantly started getting hard. Unlike with Amanda, I didn't want her to see my boner because I was a little less sure of how she would react. Plus I was wearing athletic shorts and it would have been very noticeable. I grabbed her left foot and began to massage. The feeling of my thumbs pressing into her wrinkly, mature, sweaty feet was driving me crazy. It had only been about 10 seconds of me massing her and I was already having trouble resisting the urge to lift her foot up and lick all over her soles. I was squeezing my thighs together very hard to try and keep my penis in place. I was in heaven. I had always wanted to do things with an older women's foot and now that dream was coming true. I began to massage the right one and then after awhile I would alternate back and forth. For about the first five or so minutes we didn't talk much. She was scrolling through Facebook or something on her phone and I was sitting there trying not to show that this was the time of my life. After about five minutes she put her phone down, drank some more wine, and said "You know, I absolutely love having my feet massaged. I just love when my feet are touched". She then rested her head back on the arm of the couch and closed her eyes. Donna then said "Feel free to go as long as you want. I'm in no rush". And neither was I. I continued to massage her feet for another 15 minutes. She kept her eyes closed the whole time and didn't say much except for the occasional "Oooo that feels great" which made my dick even harder. After awhile of her having her head cocked back I decided to release the grip on my thighs and let my penis be free. It was getting so uncomfortable and she wasn't looking now anyways. I also used this time to stare intensely at her feet. Since she wasn't looking the whole 15 minutes of massaging, my eyes were fixed on her feet the whole entire time. I couldn't look away. They were just so beautiful I wanted to lick them so bad. I debated in my head for so long whether or not I should try and take things a step further or not. She seemed to really enjoy it and claimed to love having her feet touched so why wouldn't she want to have her toes sucked and her soles licked? I finally came to a decision and I waited patiently for her next occasion "that feels so good". After awhile she said it again "Oh yeah that feels great". This was about her 7th or 8th time saying it so I said back to her "You really do like having your feet touched don't you Miss Donna?" "Oh yeah", she started "ever since I was younger I've always loved massages and having my feet touched or played with". I then said "Well we can do this again tomorrow after work if you'd like. You have very pretty feet." "Do you think so?" She said as she sat up and opened her eyes. I wasn't expecting this and didn't have time react and hide my errection and before I knew it she was making direct eye contact with my throbbing hard penis poking up in my shorts. "Oh my" she said as she blushed and smirked. I quickly said "Oh ummmmm" as I stuffed my dick back in between my thighs as best as I could. I tried to act as if I was nervous even though I could tell by the look on her face that things were going to go how I wanted them to. I looked at her and we made a silent eye contact for about 4 seconds until she said "So I'm guess you have a foot fetish". With a slightly embarrassed tone of voice I responded with "Well, maybe just a little bit" followed by a wink. Donna then said "I could pretty much tell by the way you were rubbing my feet. It's okay honey you're lucky. Remember I love to have my feet touched". She gestured with her eyes for me to continue giving her the massage. This was exactly what I wanted to hear. Now I just had to find a way to get my tongue on her foot. I massaged for about a minute and a half, this time more smooth and seductively, and then I asked "So Miss Donna, when you say you love having your feet touched, what other kinds of ways do you like?" "Why", she responded "do you want to touch them in a different way?" Without saying a word I lifted up her left foot to my mouth and took a nice long suck on her big toe. My heart was pounding. Did I just go too far to soon? But what happened next changed me. Donna leaned her head back down on the arm of the chair, closed her eyes, and said "Carry on". Was as this a dream? I honestly could not believe this was actually happening to me. I looked at her foot and pressed it firmly into my face. I could feel all her wrinkles on my lips and nose I wanted to cum right in that moment. I then daringly placed my tongue on her heel and pressed it hard into her foot and licked all the way up the bottom of her mature foot. Before going any further I looked at her to see her reaction and found her lying there with a grin on her face looking content. I grabbed her other foot and buried my face right into both of her feet. I then proceeded to lick the bottoms of her feet and suck on her toes for about 5 minutes. I stopped for a second to say something to her but she quickly stood up and dragged me into her bedroom. Donna then pushed me onto her bed and pulled off my shorts and underwear without any warning. She hopped onto the bed and started to give me a footjob. This was my first and only footjob, even to this day. Surprisingly, unlike many other foot fetishists, I'm not very into footjobs and it took her awhile to make me cum from this. But after awhile I finally did cum all over her feet. She went to the bathroom to clean herself up and then came back and her and I proceeded to talk. She told me about how she was never into feet until her first boyfriend. The first guy she dated was the guy she lost her virginity to and she was very in love with him. He had a serious foot fetish and although she wasn't really into that, she would do foot related things for him because she wanted him to be happy. She told me that he loved foot jobs and after awhile of them doing stuff, she started to develop a love for having her feet touched. Unfortunately that guy broke her heart but she kept her love for her feet. She also told me about how she met her first husband in the library at college because she caught him checking out her feet and she seduced him with her feet. Stan also had a thing for feet, also one of the reasons they were married, but she said that he always told her that her feet "just weren't right" although he would still make love to them and lick and kiss them. This had nothing to do with why they divorced but it definitely didn't help. After she finished filling me in on all her past feet romances, she asked about my past experiences and also what I like to do best with feet. I told her about Amanda and some other girls (sorry no spoilers for future stories) and also that my favorite thing to do was to lick a girls feet while getting a handjob. She told me that she had seen that in porn but had never done it then immediately stuck her foot in my face. I assumed she wanted to do it so I began to passionately lick the bottom of her foot. I pressed my tounge so hard into her soles to make sure I felt every single wrinkle. Once she started giving the handjob I was in heaven. Since I had already had an orgasm tonight it was taking me awhile to cum and I told her it might take some time. She then did something I would have never guessed. "We're not telling your mom about this right?" she asked. "No way!" I said "this stays between you and me". Without a word she then got completely naked and sat down right on my penis. Yes. Miss Donna and I were having sex. Actual sex with a women close to 50. Could this day get any better? And I no longer had to sleep on the couch. Well the next day at work we eyeballed each other the whole time and rushed back to her apartment after closing and quickly began to make love. Of course there was also foreplay, especially foot related roleplay. And that continued every day until I had to drive back home. I told her that I would come down again soon and she told me that I had to. And two weeks later I went down for another week and we did the exact same thing again every single night. And the best part was, she had past the point where she could have children and I was able to cum inside of her without a condom. It was the perfect situation. Unfortunately, Miss Donna began feeling guilty after awhile. Not only was she having a romance with a kid who just graduated high school but with her close friends son. And this hit her eventually. I understand now that she was still a little bit of a wreck from the divorce and this was not normal behavior for her. We had a long talk about it on my last trip down to the beach and we decided to call it quits. I didn't exactly want to, to be honest I wanted to marry her, but it was for the best. Our final time having sex was magical and she let me have one last session with her feet. I have never licked a pair of feet as hard as I did this time and her feet were soaking wet with slobber. I still think about her almost every day and I masturbate to mental images of her considerably more than I do to porn. I currently barely watch porn because I have a such a huge mental library of experiences that turn me on way more than porn. Most of that is due to her. Sometime I still text her or call her because I can't get her out of my head. But we talk less and less as the days go by. Sorry for a not-too-happy ending but that's how the story goes and as much as I want to I can't change the situation. Hope you all enjoyed! More stories on the way very soon. Thanks
  2. Like Father Like Son

    Like Father Like Son by Whitedog_34250 This was not what I had envisioned when I moved in with Laura. We were both divorced at the time we met. She was thirtysix and had a sixteen year old daughter. I was forty and had a seventeen year old son living with me. We couldn't be more different, maybe that's what brought us together. Laura was a self assured slightly greedy strong, outgoing independent woman, almost an exact oppisite of me. She was going through a nasty divorce in which she planned to take her cheating husband too the cleaners when we met. I worked as a book keeper at the gym she worked out at religiously. Being an extremely attractive blond woman she was hit on often by the jocks in the gym while going through her nasty divorce. At the time she held a grudge against all men so none of them got anywhere with her. For some reason though she felt comfortable talking to me about her cheating husband. Maybe it was because I was such a good listener an an excellent ass kisser as I agreed with her side always. Maybe it was also because I was very helpful to her, knowing she was strapped for time because of the divorace and her professional life as a consultant I offered to help her run some of her errands. At first she just smiled and said I was sweet to offer but she did not take me up on my offer. A week or two later though she first asked me if I would mind picking up her dry cleaning, which I did happily. Then a few days later as she walked into the gym in the middle of the day she asked me if I could go get her car washed as she had to pick up a client that afternoon and she wanted to get a quick workout in. Again I instantly volunteered and I was quite impressed to find she drove a convertible Jaguar. Over the next couple of weeks it more or less became assumed that I was to pick up and drop off her dry cleaning on Tuesdays and Fridays and her car was to be washed on Fridays. We still continued to have our little chats which were actually just me listening to her bitch about the man she was divorcing and now in addition to what had become my regular errands for her she would frequently ask me if I could return a video for her, or take one of her pumps to the shoe repair store, or take some jewelry to the repair shop or any number of many other little tasks that would free up some of her precious time. Some guys may have felt their generosity was being taken for granted but I was actually getting something in return, just the look on the faces of all those muscle bound jocks at the gym who couldn't even get a smile from Laura couldn't figure out how I could talk to her at any time, that was more than enough payment for me. It was Laura who blew my mind one day and asked me if I'd like to go out for a drink one evening. Although I am not hideous nor a stereotype wimp, I never imagined a woman as beautiful as her could go for the plain, shy average type, after all the man she had been married to was the handsome, successful, wealthy jock type. We went out several times over the next few weeks. I quickly realized what she found in me was a good listener and ass kisser. She would do most of the talking venting her frustrations about her soon to be ex husband and I of course always took her side. One evening I stopped by her house to pick her up for a date since her car was in the shop, that's when I met her daughter Sara. The teen girl opened the expensive door of their big home to let me in. With long straight blonde hair and pouty red lips she was dressed in only a t-shirt and cotton shorts, a very beautiful girl but it was easy to tell she was an extremely spoiled girl. I held several items of Laura's dry cleaning that I had picked up earlier in the day in my hand and Sara instantly set the tone on how she felt about me as she let me in and headed back to the luxurious sofa. "mom, your errand boys here!" she yelled out towards the master bedroom and then layed back on the sofa and picked the phone back up as she was apparently in the middle of a phone call. I felt very awkward standing there in the foyer holding Laura's dry cleaning and looking at the reclining teen girl who had just been extremely rude to me as she twirled the expensive gold and diamond nacklace around neck with her finely manicured fingers as she talked to her friend on the phone now totally ignoring me. What was only a few minutes seemed like hours before Laura looking stunning as always came out of her bedroom. "Hey Tim, oh, you can just hang those in that closet, my maid will put them away tomorrow" Laura said as she saw me holding up her dry cleaning near the coat closet in the foyer. I hung the items up and then Laura said "why don't you pour us some wine Tim" pointing towards the the small bar area in the corner of the room. "Don't mind my daughter, she can be quite the spoiled bitch" Laura added as she was slipping on her heels. Sara playfully stuck her tongue out at her mom and Laura returned the gesture, I couldn't help but think they were more like sisters than mother and daughter. Sara continued chatting on the phone as I brought back the two glasses of wine. After taking a few sips each Laura suggested we should get going, she kissed her daughter goodbye and we left. That ended up being the first time I made love to Laura, it was great for me but I got the feeling that Laura was less than impressed with my lovemaking skills although she didn't say anything. During the next few weeks several things happened, Laura did find a way that I could satisfy her sexually, that was with my tongue. Her divorce became final and she was delighted that she had taken him for nearly 80% of what he owned plus he still had to pay her alimony and child support. The next thing that happened involved me, I would eventually learn it was Laura's doing but I was fired from my job at the gym. I was not making much money as it was and had very little savings, Laura knew this and when I told her of my problem it was her who suggested me and my son should move in with her and her daughter. Ironically she informed that her long time maid had decided to retire and that maybe I could help her out until I found a new job. What could I say, after all she was offering me and my son a place to stay for free the least I could do was offer to help with the housework. Right from the start things were not going to be as I expected when my son Lenny and me arrived at her stylish large home. I thought because of our relationship that I would be sleeping with her but this was not the case. She said it was because she didn't want her daughter to see her with a new man in her bed so soon after her divorce which I could understand but when she showed us to our room I was baffled. Laura led us to the only bedroom on the first floor, it was just off the kitchen and a rather plain small room with a single bed on either side a small desk and a bathroom with a shower stall, yes it was a maids room and me and my son would be sharing it. I was disappointed but what could I say, it was this or we would be sleeping in my old car. "I'll let you two get settled in and when your ready we can go over the house rules, ok" Laura said with a pleasant smile. "ah, yes sure Laura" I replied baffled once again, what rules, I wasn't aware there were going to be rules. My son and I began unpacking what few possessions we did own. My son was rather meek and shy like myself and to be honest this room was several steps up from the dump of an apartment we had been living at. When my wife had divorced me to run off with a young stud she had somehow manipulated the court to leave me penniless, she had gotten everything, our cars, the house and all our assets, I'm sure her and her lover are still laughing about it today. She was not Lenny's mother, my first wife had died shortly after Lenny's birth. Julie had been my second wife and I should have known from the start that she was only after my first wifes fairly sizable life insurance payment. It was only three years later that she had taken everything from me throwing me and my son out in the cold the same day her lover moved into what had been my house. That was three years ago and Laura was the first woman I had been with since and I was starting to think I was being used once again but this time it was for labor instead of money. I quickly put those thoughts out of my mind, as was my nature I put all my faith in a woman and would bow to her wishes to keep her happy. Lenny and I finished unpacking and got cleaned up before going into the living room. There we found Laura seated on the sofa looking very studious and beautiful in her reading glasses as she looked over some work papers. "So, I guess your all settled in now?" Laura asked as she removed her glasses to get a look at the two of us standing before her almost as if we were servants being addressed by the Mistress of the house. "yes we are Laura and I jus..." I began as I was also about to sit down at the same time but was interrupted by Laura "No Tim, remain standing, I would prefer we stay on a professional basis in my home, and since we both agree you'll be assuming the role of the maid at least for now, I expect and demand a certain ettiquitte." Laura was not smiling now, she spoke in a no nonsense tone and I crumbled before her moving back towards my son in an attentive standing position. "I also expect respect when you address me, Miss Laura or Miss Connelly will be fine and the same respect shall be shown to my daughter,this applies to you also Lenny, is that understood?" "Yes Miss Conelly" my son was quick to respond, I followed with "yes Miss Laura" a few seconds later still trying to come to grasps with the sudden change in our relationship. "good, now I jotted down a few basic house rules, there will likely be more in the near future. Let's start with you Lenny. Rule number one, you are not a guest in my house, you are a family member of my household staff that I have been kind enough to provide housing for. This means you do not have free reign of my home, if you would like to use or barrow something that is not yours you will need to ask me or my daughter's permission" My son was listening closely to Laura's rules, he did not seem offended by this in the least, I had always taught him to be respectful of people with authority and Laura was making it quite clear that her and her daughter were the authorities in this household, Laura continued "this includes use of the pool, jacuzzi, exercise room and so on and just because we may give you permission once doesn't mean you don't have to ask the next time, is that understood?" "yes Miss Conelly" my son again responded instantly "That's about all for you Lenny although I would like to add even though you are not required too I think it would be an appropriate gesture on your part that if my daughter or myself ask you to do something that you do it" "sure Miss Conelly, I'd be happy to help out" my son added much the same way I had done for years to strong will girls and women. "Ok, I hope your comfortable hear, you can go back to your room while I talk to your father" Laura dismissed m son regaining her sweet smile. Once my son disappeared Laura looked me up and down making me a bit nervous. "I'm sorry if this seems a little harsh Tim but I run a tight household and I wanted to make it clear from the start who's the boss in my home" "su sure Lau" I was about to say when I noticed her eyebrow raise I quickly changed to "I I mean I understand Miss Laura" A faint grin came to her pretty face and then she through a curve at me "you're kind of one of those submissive type guys aren't you Tim?" "I I don't...I mean I " I began to stutter beginning to blush a dark shade of red bringing a soft giggle from Laura "that's ok Tim, you don't have to answer, I knew it as soon as I met you. There's nothing wrong with it, you just need to relax and go with it. As soon as you stop trying to prove to me your not and just give into my will you'll be much more at ease, hell you might even enjoy it" I couldn't believe my ears, she read me like an open book, as I stood fidgeting before her it was hard to believe this was the same woman I knew just days ago. Then she dropped a bombshell on me. "you know Tim I have to be honest with you about something, it's because of me that you find yourself in tis situation, it may have been a bit selfish of me but I'm the one who got you fired" I couldn't believe it, my emotions were now changing from embarrassment to anger. "wh why would you do that?" I demanded but not too strongly as I was actually feeling inferior to her at the moment. She looked at me with a selfish grin. "revenge Tim" she said smugly "revenge? Wh what did I ever do to you?" I asked totally confused, she flashed that arrogant self confident grin at me again "you didn't do anything Tim, actually your just a poor pawn, it was my ex husband who did it. You see Tim when I caught him cheating on me with several different sluts it made me feel inferior, so I took everthing I could from him which made me feel a little better but I needed more, I needed to feel powerful again. It may sound rather deviant but I needed a man I could dominate" "So you decided to ruin my life?" I sort of pouted feeling helpless "don't be so dramatic Tim, I'm not ruining your life. Your free to go anytime, but I think you should think about it first. I know for a fact the accommodations I've given you are far better than where you were living. You might think about your son also, He's going to be a senior this year, wouldn't you rather have him attend the same prestigious high school my daughter does instead of that inner city dump? If this works out I may even help you put him through college, you don't have to pay for rent or food, I'll even cover your medical insurance and I'll pay you a small salary so you have some spending cash and all I ask in return is exceptional service" "well that's different, it's it's just that I thought that you know maybe" she quickly grew wary of my stumbling on my words "you thought what Tim, you thought that maybe you and I could be like a couple? Did you really believe that? You've seen the life I live, do you really think a woman of my stature could fall for a low paid rather average, unmotivated passive guy like you, I will admit you have a talented tongue something I plan on using frequently but come on Tim be realistic." Now most guys would have probably told her off and walked out after that verbal assault of their character but I knew she was pretty much right on the money although she could have worded it in a less harsh way. The more I thought about it the more I realized she was offering me and more so my son a better life, at least it sounded like it. I bowed my head feeling defeated by her wisdom and then gave in completely. "I'll do it Miss Laura, I'll do as you ask for my son's sake" I heard her let out a triumphant soft laugh. "A wise choice Tim, now we can get down to business" Laura said in a victorious voice and then I heard her shuffle some papers to get to her list of rules. "I wasn't positive you would see things my way so these are just some basic rules, I'll compile a more detailed list in the next few days, you might want to jot these down so you can memorize them" Laura suggested holding out a pen and pad to me, I accepted them and then she leaned back on the sofa and extended her well toned legs resting her beautiful feet on the coffee table in front of her. She then put back on her fashionable reading glasses and began "Number one, your normal working hours will be Monday through Saturday 6AM to 8PM but you'll be on call 24 hours a day. Sunday you will have no normal chores but you will be available for any service required." "may I ask what norm" I was about to ask what normal was but was quickly hushed "silence! You are never to interrupt me, you will speak when spoken too, is that clear?" Laura reprimanded me harshly "yes Miss Laura, I'm sorry" I apologized after being scorned "If you would have kept your mouth shut the next item explains your normal work duties, these need to be done on a daily basis. 1 The entire house must be dusted and vacuumed. 2 The bathrooms must be thoroughly cleaned and sanitized, this means scrubbing the bathtubs, shower stalls, toilets, vanities, floors and tiled walls. All items must be organized and fresh towels put out daily. 3 The bedrooms will be thoroughly cleaned daily, in addition to the dusting and vacuuming clothes will be picked up, shoes will be cleaned and put in the closet and dressers and makeup tables and mirrors will be cleaned and organized and the beds will be made. 4 The gym mirrors cleaned, weights organized and equipment wiped down These items will typically be done twice a week 1 Bed linens will be changed 2 Laundry and ironing will be done 3 My car and soon Sara's will be thoroughly washed and cleaned 4 All gym equipment must be thoroughly wiped down and sanitized 5 All patio furniture will be cleaned 6 Water all plants Once a week 1 The grocery shopping Twice a month chores include 1 All wood floors will be polished 2 The cars will be waxed The once a month duties 1 Wash all windows inside and out 2 All our footwear whether worn or not will be thoroughly cleaned and/or polished This is just a general outline and is addition to your daily errands, cooking and kitchen chores and general picking up after us. Now do you have any questions?" I was still jotting down the items and my hand was already cramping from just writing down my chore list, I couldn't imagine how sore or tired I would be after actually doing the work. "No Miss Laura" I meekly replied while finishing up the list "good, I'm sure you'll do fine, oh and I will also be requiring some personal services like massages and foot rubs, maybe brushing my hair, assisting me in the bath and perhaps touching up my nail polish and one more thing, when I say 'bedroom now' be prepared to use that talented tongue of yours" She finished with a devilish grin. "su sure Miss Laura, thank you" I responded not really sure of what to say, ordinarily I would be ecstatic to be invited to such a beautiful woman's bedroom but she made it quite clear that I would only be there for her satisfaction, sort of like a sex toy. "Ok Tim your dismissed, Sara will be home soon you better go clean her room, she'll be bitching and moaning about how inadequate you are if she finds out you started working for us and her rooms not cleaned" Laura stated as matter of factly as she slipped her reading glasses back on and went back to looking over the documents she held. So that was the start of the drastic changes in mine and my sons lives
  3. Hey guys, so I decided to have a go at my first fic. This story is going to be a followup on my nonfiction post 'Humiliated by Ex GF' in the Experiences forum. This is one of my personal fantasies but I hope some of you enjoy! Be warned, there is going to be some heavy psychological humiliation/domination. I hope the writing isn't too disjointed. I discovered very quickly that its pretty difficult trying to write something cogent while getting super aroused! My Superior Ex-Girlfriend It had been a year since I spoke to or had even seen Lauren. She left me last summer after a lengthy period of progressive deterioration-our relationship had slowly fallen to pieces as I grew more and more obsessed with her and therefore more and more frustrated. I still had not come to terms with reconciling my sexual desires in a relationship. I wanted to be dominated and accept my inferiority. I wanted to worship Lauren as superior and honestly wanted her to pretty much humiliate me and be mean to me. This made me feel insecure and so I lashed out with anger. I couldn't accept that I truly did believe she was a superior individual, regardless of my aforementioned sexual feelings. It destroyed our relationship. She lost respect for me and she left me and was totally indifferent toward me. The opposite of love. And I was growing more obsessed with her every day. It had been a year, and I couldnt take it anymore. She was incomperable. No girl was as great as Lauren. She was a sinister beauty. Long, wild, light brown/blondish hair. Wavy and unkempt. Slanted, exotic eyes. Sharp, strong features. She looked incredibly feminine, standing 5ft 4in, but she also looked strong and mean. She had this cruel look to her which I loved. I remember she told me this one anecdote about a time she was in class and some guy was hitting on her and then randomly told her she looked evil. I liked that other people saw it. She looked like a cruel goddess. She had the most perfect nails I had ever seen, long and feminine and strong. Perfectly shaped, thin and lengthy, with flawless nail beds-a big deal to me. Her feet were the most beautiful feet I had ever seen. She wore a size six. Her feet were small and perfect-still full and meaty and very curvy. Her toes were full and shapely but still long. Her toenails were naturally long and she grew them out to the edge of her toes. Lauren was perfection. When we dated I had timidly kind of told her about wanting to be dominated but I never expounded on it at all. She knew about my foot fetish and knew I liked it when she rubbed her feet all over my face but that was about it. I didnt want to tell her I wanted to worship her like a deity and be humilated at her feet because I was worried she would look down on me. But I guess that that was what I wanted, sexually. So now that she had left me I knew what I wanted to do. She was pretty mean-spirited and liked to make fun of people. She definitely had a superiority complex. I figured if I worded it right, she would definitely go for having a slave. I figured since we ended on bad terms, she would be up for treating her ex boyfriend like dirt too. 'This could work' I thought. We hadn't spoken or seen each other at all. I still had her number and so I texted her. "Hey Lauren, I wanted to ask you something. Can I call you?" I texted. She responded the next day when I had given up, thinking she wasnt going to hear it. She just said 'What do you want'. I texted 'call me'. My heart was pounding. This was absurd. Moments later the phone rang. She answered 'What do you want'. Her voice was so feminine but strong and mature. I was instantly turned on. 'I want to serve you' I blurted out. 'Im obsessed with you and I want to worship you and do whatever you want. Please let me serve you and I will do whatever you say' 'That is fucking disgusting' she said. 'Please, youre so perfect. Lauren, you deserve to have someone serve you. Youll get so much out of this, think about it. Ill pay for your stuff, I will write your papers, clean your room.' She cut me off 'So you want to be my bitch...what the fuck' I sounded so pathetic but I had decided to give in and desperately try to get this to work. I mean, it didnt matter if she said no-as of right now she wouldnt have anything to do with me anyway, right? 'All I ask in return is that you let me kiss your feet and worship you' Lauren hesitated 'Ugh you are so pathetic.' I continued pleading 'Think about it, you'd have someone completely submit to you. You'll be my boss and I will do anything for you. Your life will be so easy." Lauren started 'Okay, just stop begging its fucking annoying.' This was actually working. 'Fine. You have to do everything that I say or I will get rid of you without a thought.' She started laughing. 'Oh my god this is so ridiculous' I profusely thanked her and we talked a little bit about how to go about doing this. She said I could come over in a few hours and start by cleaning her room. She lived in a house with a few of her female friends. It was going to be super humiliating because I went to high school with all of them. Now they would see me being Lauren's bitch. This was so crazy. About two hours later Lauren texted me her address and added 'You will come over and clean my room and we will talk about how things are going to be from now on' I arrived at her house horribly nervous. She opened the front door and just looked at me and said 'ugh' with a grimace. She looked so much more beautiful. She was always fit, but she appeared to have gotten leaner. Her nails were unpainted and long and her hands moved gracefully as always. She was wearing casual clothes with blue jean shorts and light blue high top converse. They were dirty and tattered and covered in paint and scribbling. Her personality alone made me feel so submissive. She was just so perfect and naturally dominant and superior. I wanted to fall to my knees right there and start kissing her feet, but I knew her roommates might see, and I wasnt ready for that yet, however inevitable... I tried greeting her and talking about how it had been a long time but she cut me off and said 'dude, shut up. follow me'. We got to her room and she closed and locked the door and turned toward me with her arms folded. She started laughing in a really demeaning way and said 'You are so fucking pathetic. You know, I would have said no because I want nothing to do with you, but I like the idea of having all this shit done for me for free. Plus, I think this is going to be hilarious' I didnt know what to say. Lauren walked over to her bed and sat down. I had no shame at this point. I got down on my knees in front of her. 'Oh my god, seriously. Fine. If this is what you want, so be it. Crawl over here and kiss my feet you piece of shit.' My face turned hot and I crawled toward her. She had one leg crossed over the other. One foot was planted firmly on the ground and the other elevated by her knee. I began frantically kissing her converse shoe. It could smell a stale and faint scent of sweat. I glanced up and saw her looking down at me with a disgusted but amused look on her face. 'That's right, gaze up at your superior. This is the closest you will ever get to me, you maggot.' She began laughing again and started shoving her shoe into my face, causing me to fall back. Each time, I got back in front of her and would feverishly kiss her shoe, almost like I was thanking it for kicking me. She reached down and untied the shoe and pulled it off, grabbed a handful of my hair on the back of my head and shoved the converse into my face, the hole where her foot went covering my mouth and nose. 'Sniff it, bitch.' I started sniffing audibly. I closed my eyes and got lost in the strong scent of her vacant feet. The warmth in her recently removed shoe was the best part. She then pulled her shoe away and put it on the ground, pulling the other one off too. Suddenly my face flew toward the ground. Her socked foot was planted on the side of my face and she stood up. I could feel a small portion of Lauren's bare foot through a small hole in the bottom of her sock on my face. The sock was warm and kind of damp. She began grinding it onto my face while pressing down. Her other foot then slammed down right in front of my mouth. It was bare. She must have pulled the sock off along with the shoe. Her beautiful unpainted toenails. I had almost forgotten how amazing they were. Her foot was kind of tan and had indentations from her sock. It looked just barely wrinkled from being wet. I could see bits of damp toejam in between her toes and some gunk hanging out from underneath her big toenail. Everything looked so big down there with my face pinned to the floor. Her foot had some lint and dirt sticking off of it that could be seen when the light hit it properly. I could smell an amazing fleshy, vinegary and pungent fragrance emanating from her foot. I tried to look up at her. She looked so powerful and strong and beautiful standing above me. I felt so small and insignificant. 'Kiss, worm' she commanded from above me. Her socked foot pressed down on my face and I struggled to kiss her bare foot. She lifted her toes up off the ground just slightly and I passionately made out with the bottom of her foot, her sole, just below her toes, while burying my nose in between her big and second toes. I inhaled the pungent stink and tasted the saltiness of her foot while she spread specks of dirt and toejam onto my face. 'This is how it's going to be from now on..' I heard her start from up above me. 'Keep kissing, bitch.' While on my knees with my face pinned to the floor by Lauren's socked foot, I kissed her bare foot which was planted on the floor right next to my mouth as Lauren divulged the details of my new life. 'You're my little follower. My worm, my bitch now. You arent worth enough to speak my name. From now on you will learn to think of me as your god and will therefore refer to me as 'God'. Even in front of others.' 'Yes God, I understand' I said pitifully between two kisses on the bottom of her big toe. 'Im going to figure out the other logistics but for now you will be coming over here whenever you are told and you will stay for as long as I say' Lauren began laughing, 'and youre gonna truly understand that I am better than you. Im totally superior to you and that's why you're down there groveling to me you little shit. Thank your new God, maggot!' She started laughing even more when I instinctively and gently held onto her bare foot and brought it closer to my mouth, burying my face into it as I lost control and replied 'thank you, thank you God, thank you. You are my superior God, thank you for letting me be beneath you.' To be continued...
  4. 1. I am not the author. 2. The only info I have on the author is included with the story below. This includes the time/date stamps from the original usenet posts. 3. I don't have Part IV, nor does it seem to be anywhere on the internet. If any other old-timers have it in their archives, I would give my left nut for it. 4. Enjoy! “Dangerous” Part 1 By "Unimagined" posted to alt.sex.fetish.feet on Mar 19 1994, 12:01 am I finally had my hands on that bitch, Kellie Bruner. After having gone out for only four months, the bitch had absolutely dumped me because I kissed another girl. We weren't even going steady! I was hurt beyond explanation, and nothing I did would get her to change her mind. I had even been dominant in the relationship. I got sex whenever I wanted. And now, all that had changed. She was in control, and I couldn't stand that. After crying for the last two months, I had made up my mind to embarrass her, to get back at her for all she had done to my emotions. I no longer had an interest in her. That had all but become numb inside me. But on this particular night, she showed up at the same party I was at. She showed with a date and her best friend, Monica White. I smiled to myself when I thought of what I was going to do to her. I had decided to flat out kick her ass, girl or not, in front of everybody. Her ass was mine. She was wearing a white t-shirt, yuppy shorts, and white sneakers with white socks. Nothing erotic about that. Besides, they would all be dirty when I was finished with her. From a distance, I watched her laugh and talk with her friends. I seethed at the memories of how she would tell everybody how I kept after her and that I was mud beneath her feet. I would show her mud. I began walking over to her, slowly. I wanted to remember the before and after images very plainly. I reached her, and she saw me. A smirk appeared on her face, and she coldly said "hello, Tim." And turned away. I reached out and grabbed her arm. She turned her head toward me with a disgusted look on her face. Her date was gone at the moment, so I didn't have to worry about fighting him. By the time I was finished with little Kellie, I planned to head home before the cops could get there. "Well... hello yourself," I coolly replied. "What's a slut like you doing out tonight?" "You're a pig," she retorted, attempting to pull her arm away. "No, not so fast, Kellie. I'm not done with you." I smiled icily and turned her full toward me before releasing her arm. "I think it's time you learned a real valuable lesson, Kellie." She looked at me curiously. "I hope you have your insurance paid up," I said, with a smile. She sneered at me. "I don't need insurance for you," she said. "I'm not worried about you one bit. In fact, if you don't leave me alone, I'll use your face for a footwipe." Her friends all laughed at this. Obviously, the girl wasn't taking me seriously. Suddenly, her smile vanished, and she looked at me with angry eyes. "Get on your knees, Tim," she began, "and lick my feet." I looked at her astonished. The audacity! Here I was about to kick the living shit out of her, and she was telling me to lick her feet! She could tell I was startled at the command. "Come on, Tim," she continued. "Show all your friends how you grovel at my feet. Remember? I made you get on your knees when you came to my house that one night." I remembered that. But I didn't do anything to her feet. I was simply begging for her to give me a second chance. "Your ass is mine, Kellie," I said, bringing my arm back to strike. When I brought it around, she ducked! I was amazed! At the same time, I saw her right leg come up. Suddenly, her shoe was making a beeline to my face. Before I could move, her foot caught me square on the side of the face, and the room turned crooked on me. I felt like I was viewing a picture through stained glass or something, and that I was floating. Abruptly, I felt something slam against my entire body, and I heard laughter. As the room slowly regained some orientation, I realized that the slam had been my body falling to the ground. And the laughter belonged to everyone in the room, including Kellie. Even in my dazed state, I knew what had happened. This bitch, whom I hated more than anything, had just floored me with a kick to the face. I couldn't believe it! I had been almost knocked out by her feet! Shame began burning at my cheeks. But I decided it wasn't too late to salvage some pride by taking her apart. I shook my head to clear it, and from a kneeling position, I looked over to where Kellie was untying her shoes. She was saying something to me. "I hope you still think my feet are cute," she said. "because they're going to be striking your face a lot during the next few minutes. And be thankful. They're too soft to cut you up much. But it will hurt." With that, she removed both shoes and then her socks, revealing two truly beautiful feet. You had to give her that. No matter how much I hated her, the girl had probably the prettiest feet I had ever seen. But I still despised her and had no intention of getting my ass kicked by a girl with soft, pretty feet. I rose and went toward her. "That was a lucky shot, bitch," I hissed, "now get ready for a little pain." "Oh, Tim, really," she replied, "how do my feet taste?" Just on reflex, I looked down at her feet and took in the tanned softness and red toenails. I decided maybe it was time she learned something about humiliation herself. I raised my fists and took aim. "Here, bitch." I said. "Eat this!" I am a good fighter, and she knew it. What I didn't know is that she was even better. She sidestepped my punch and threw a half-kick at my face, slapping her right foot against my mouth. I blinked and she slapped me again in the mouth with the top of her foot. Our friends were laughing and cheering her on. Kellie, herself, was one big smile. She was having fun. I was getting infuriated that she was not only emotionally overwhelming me but also physically toying with me. I screamed and lurched toward her. The next day, people would tell me that I almost did a complete flip and that the sound of the sole of her foot smacking hard against my entire face sounded like someone slamming a paddle on a lake's surface. I remember two things: the bottom of her foot looked creamy smooth, and the world can turn horrifyingly black in the blink of an eye. The next thing I remember was coming to on the living room floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a hazy view of guys and girls high-fiving Kellie. And lots of voices: I've never seen anyone get hit that hard. Goddamn, she really kicked his ass! His breath will smell like your feet for the next week... He's lucky I decided to let him live. She saw me coming to. By then, I had managed to turn over on my stomach and rise to my hands and knees. Kellie arrogantly walked over and stood directly in front of me with her feet just three inches from my face. I looked up at her, which gave her the opportunity to step back and launch another foot to my face. Smack! The ball of her foot struck home, and my head snapped back hard. I was seeing double and trying to remain balanced on my hands and knees. People said I looked like one of those dogs with wobbly heads that people put in their cars. I was now crawling like a drunk animal across the living room floor, not even knowing where I thought I was going. Kellie walked along beside me. "Stop there," she ordered, pointing to the floor. I stopped. "Now look at me." I turned my head to the right, almost pleading to her with my eyes. "Apologize to me," she said, "or you're taking another foot to the face." I was honestly terrified, and I was prepared to apologize. But the bitch she is, she decided to entertain herself some more. "Too late!" she announced. "Have a taste!" With that she raised her knee once again and sent that lethal softness to my bruised face. Smack! My head swayed back and forth. "Have another!" I heard her as if from a distance. Standing in front of me, I saw the knee, the toes curl back, and the creamy color flashing toward me. Smack! "Hey, Tim, taste good?" Smack! "How about that one?" Smack! "I didn't know you could look so cross-eyed." Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! My head was jerking up and down like a speed bag. Smack! One more kick and I was on my back, the whole world spinning. I could make out Kellie standing above me, her feet on either side of my head. Through the haze, I saw Kellie raise her foot then place it down firmly on my face. She began to grind it hard. The mixture of the incredible softness (it was amazing how soft her feet truly were. I would not have believed that anything that soft could have been that dangerous), my hatred for her, and the knowledge that she was absolutely humiliating me without resorting to anything but her feet, caused a paradoxical awakening of my sex organ. As she smashed her soft weapon all over my face, I began to grow hard. She noticed and pointed at it. "Look at that!" she laughed. "He's going to come! God, you would think that someone who has just lost all self respect at the feet of a girl wouldn't come from the thing that destroyed him! Monica, take off his pants." Monica quickly did and soon my dick was waving uncontrollably in the air. Kellie laughed. "Here, I think a couple more seconds and he'll show us what a fag he is!" Sure enough, two more twists on my face and come began pouring out. I must have looked funny with my legs churning in the air in an attempt to escape the pressure of Kellie Bruner's foot pinning my face to the floor. I came for several seconds then lay there with Kellie's foot now just pressing down. "Please..." I begged, muffled by the weight of her foot. "What was that?" I heard her say. "Please.... I'll... I'll do anything... I'm sorry..." With her foot still holing me down, she laughed. "I'll decide when you have had enough," she said. "When you are at the mercy of my feet, you'll wait until I am done! Besides, I haven't decided if you deserve to live!" With that, she removed her foot from my face (allowing oxygen to finally reach me untouched) and told me to get on my knees and crawl over to the far wall. Groggily, I managed to get into a kneeling position and grope my way to the wall. By this time, I was completely terrified of this fucking bitch with perfect feet. I hated her so much, I would have shot her if I had a gun. At the same time, I was so scared of her, I didn't want to give her a reason to injure me permanently. I had gotten my ass kicked by a girl! An ex who looked too much like a model to have done to me what she had. And whose feet were too sculptured and tanned to be that dangerous. So I crawled to the wall, folks, on my hands and knees, because I had been ordered to do so. And I did not want to. More than anything else, I did not want to be under her physical control. "That's good," she said, "now face me." I turned. "Bow before me," she said. "Beg for my forgiveness! Beg for my mercy!" She laughed. "Beg for the mercy of my feet!" "Please forgive me..." I began. "Please... I'll never do...." "This is fucking boring," she said. "I think I would rather use your face for some more target practice!" With that she spun on her left heel and brought the sole of her right foot flush against my face. The lights were dim again and swam in funny colors. The ceiling reappeared. Again, Kellie was standing over me. "You're pathetic," she said. "I think I should put you out of your misery." She then placed both hands against the wall and stepped on my face with both feet. The weight was incredible. I could see nothing. The world was now soft and dark. And my air had been shut off. Too weak to move much, I jerked spasmodically on the ground as I began to suffocate beneath her feet. I could feel my body convulse at my lungs searched for oxygen they could not find in the wrinkles of her soles. She was laughing above me. I was losing consciousness. It wasn't possible, I thought to myself, I'm dying... she's killing me with her feet.... I'm dying under her control... from the bottoms of her feet..." The world went away. I awoke a few seconds later, still on the floor. Kellie was still standing above me, but she had taken her feet from my face and now had just her right foot resting on my chest. Seeing me awake, she stepped over my chest and began walking toward the couch. I could see glimpses of her creamy soles as she walked away from me. When she got to the couch, she sat down and crossed her right leg over her left leg. She spoke to me. "Unless you want my feet permanently imprinted on your ugly face, you'll crawl over here like a little dog." She closed her eyes and leaned back with a smile on her face. I crawled over obediently, though still shaky. She ordered me to crawl to where my face was an inch from her foot. With that smile still on her face and her eyes closed, she said "Since I let you live, now you have to lick my feet." She giggled to herself and relaxed even more. I was burning with shame because I couldn't bear the thought of taking her feet in my mouth. Not after all the time I had spent trying to get her back and the humiliation she had given me this evening. But I wanted to live. So I leaned forward and took that slender toe in my mouth. It was impossibly soft, and the irony worked its magic on my dick again. Still naked, my cock tightened like steel. I began sucking like an obedient animal, her creamy- smooth toe sliding in and out. The texture was like nothing I would have imagined. I was sucking the toes of a bitch, and it wasn't voluntary. Tears welled up in my eyes as the come rose to the head of my dick. When she pulled her toe from my mouth and forced my mouth to the satin bottom of her foot, I lost it. With my tongue and lips in a deep french-kiss with her foot, come began flying everywhere. A muffled scream tore from my mouth as I shot string upon string against the couch. I was lucky. None got on Kellie. She just laughed. When I finished, she pushed my head away with her foot. I fell over and stayed on my back until she said otherwise. She didn't do anything else to me that night except make me put her shoes and socks back on her feet. And, oh yeah, she decided her date needed a blowjob, so she had him lie on his back while she dragged me over and told me to suck. I opened my mouth and took his cock in while Kellie placed her sneakered foot on my head forced my head up and down. When he came, I learned that cum is warm and creamy. I wasn't thrilled nor did I want to ever do it again. Everyone watched that too. In fact, when Kellie left, three of my friends shoved their dicks in my mouth one after another. They threatened to tell Kellie if I didn't suck and swallow. I drank three more loads that night. Finally, Monica, who had stayed behind, forced me to suck her toes as payment for persuading Kellie not to kill me with her feet. I sucked Monica's pretty toes and licked her soft feet. Before she left, she decided it would be fun to knock me out with a kick in the face. I hear she told Kellie about it later. The rest of my senior year was a big change for me. Everyone had heard about what Kellie had done to me. I think almost every guy in school--nerds, dorks, you name it--came in my mouth at least once. Monica had a lot of fun using my mouth as a foot massager. Many other girls did as well. Except Kellie. She really had no interest in me. While having her toes sucked, Monica explained that Kellie found me disgusting and only allowed me to lick her feet because she knew I would be demoralized. Kellie had decided to leave the kicking to Monica, at least unless she changed her mind. And Monica made sure she knocked me out with kicks in the face after every toe-sucking. When I graduated, the principal made me suck him off as well. I left town that summer, and I now attend college in New York. No one knows about my past. But I will never escape the memories and pain of a night I was beaten and at the mercy of the feet of Kellie Bruner. Dangerous (Part II) posted by an67794 (same guy as above) to alt.sex.fetish.feet on Apr 16 1994, 2:41 pm Getting A Kick Out Of Kellie Sunday morning, Kellie awakened with a self-appreciating smile. She stretched her legs out to let her muscles know she was awake now. That done, she placed both hands behind her head and closed her eyes. It was better to think that way. In her mind, she raced back to the night before to relive the fun of humiliating her ex-boyfriend, Tim. She could have killed him, and the thought of such power tickled her to no end. Not that she would have killed the poor boy. But she could have, and that was all the information she needed. Wait until Monday, she thought to herself, wait until everybody hears about this one. She felt like hugging herself, but that would have seemed sort of dorky. She pictured the way Tim's head snapped back on forth from the force of her bare feet. God, did that look funny. And he sucked her toes! And came! She could hardly contain the energy of her thoughts. She decided that she would make him the laughing stock of the school, although she personally had no interest in him. She might, however, send him to dreamland again if he dared to make her mad. Until then, she would just have a little fun. The phone rang in the living room, and Kellie listened for one of her parents to answer it. By the fourth ring, a little Hey You tapped the inside of her brain and reminded the dangerous beauty that her parents had gone to the coast for the next two days. With that revelation, Kellie Bruner jumped out of bed and ran into the living room. Seizing the phone, she quickly helloed the receiver. "Kellie?" a familiar voice responded. "Uh-huh. Monica?" "Oh, my god!" Monica shouted. "You should have seen it when you left!" "What?!" Kellie exclaimed, with great interest. "I made him suck my toes, too! And I kicked him in the face!" "Tim?" "Yes! It was so neat, and everyone saw!" Kellie grinned to herself. "What did they say?" "They were all laughing and calling him wimp names! When I left, some of the guys were talking about making him do things like you made him do to your date! Oh, my god, Kellie, it was sooo funny!" "Did he come again?" "I think you must have dried him out! Oh, god, I can't stand it!" Monica began laughing hysterically and almost transferred the contagious silly bug over to Kellie. Kellie decided to get off the phone and call Tim herself. Just to get another perspective. "Gotta go, Monica. I'll call you later." "All right," Monica managed to reply, "I'll see you later!" Kellie could hear Monica's shrieks as they hung up. She started to dial Tim's number but then realized she didn't remember it anymore. And there was absolutely no way she was going to invest any energy looking for it; instead, she decided to spend the day shopping. After all, she deserved it. She quickly ran into the bathroom and showered. A quick drying off led to a search for the appropriate attire for her excursion. She saw some pink shorts she liked and put them on. A t-shirt, she decided, would also do. And so it did. Next, she considered what would adorn her pretty, tanned feet. She sat on the bed and extended her leg out in front of her to admire the beauty of her sculptured toes and slender instep. She really thought she had very pretty feet, and she knew they were soft because she lotioned them every night. As she admired the softest part of her body, Kellie thought back to an incident that happened when she was 14. It was a school holiday (but not a work holiday for her parents). She had the whole house to herself, and what would happen that day made her smile to herself. It was 2:00 pm when the doorbell rang that day. Kellie, dressed in white gym shorts and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt, was sitting on the couch with her bare feet resting on the coffee table in front of her. She was a little irritated that someone was at the door, but she rose to answer it anyway. When she opened the door, she saw a fairly tall man of about 40 holding a brown briefcase and wearing a cheap suit. To her, that was odd. The man spoke: "Good afternoon, ma'am," he said. "Are your parents home?" "No," she stated, matter-of-factly. The man seemed a little off guard from her abruptness. "My name is Don Rogers," he continued, "and I'm selling magazine subscriptions at discount prices. Would you, perhaps, be interested?" "Aren't you a little old to be selling magazine subscriptions?" Kellie asked. The man seemed to blush and looked down toward the ground. When he did that, he caught a nice view of Kellie's feet. He was at once taken by the flawless tone, and the neon pink toenail polish literally made his mouth water. He was especially awed by the way she stood there with the left foot flat on the ground while the other poised there on the ball of her foot. He could see the bottom of that foot, and it looked unbelievably soft. Realizing he might be looking too long, he looked back up at the teenage girl, who did not seem to notice his sudden fascination. "Actually," he managed to reply, "it's not a bad job because I get to travel all over the United States." Half of the statement was a lie. He definitely traveled, but the job was anything but "not bad." He made meager wages and was entirely dependent on those wages. Times were tough. So tough that it took him 6 months just to get the job. He was also under contract, a contract that stipulated that he must meet a certain quota each day or the difference would be taken out of the profits he made. This was the last house on his assigned area, and he still needed two more sales to meet his quota. In short, he needed this teenage girl to buy a couple of subscriptions. Thus, he threw out his best pitch: "Young lady, what I have is a lot of experience comparing different subscription rates, and the rates I can offer are absolutely the lowest around. In fact, all of the fashion magazines are currently being offered at the lowest prices ever." He didn't know if that was true or not, but who was going to check? Kellie assessed the man at the door. She figured his whole spiel was bullshit, but she had noticed the way he had suddenly stood with his mouth parted when he appeared to be looking at her feet. The situation amused her. Kellie was only 5' 2" at the time, and the salesman stood at least 6' 1". She considered the fun she could have teasing an older man who stood nearly a foot taller than her. She felt a power surge in her body and decided to invite him in. She was worried about him molesting her. She didn't advertise it at all, but she was entirely capable of defending herself. Her father had placed her in karate classes when she was 8. 6 years and one black belt later, she was a confident young lady. "All right, come on in," she said, opening the door wider. The man's eyes lit up, and he exclaimed the word "great!" two times. His enthusiasm caught Kellie's attention. She wondered if this was not a desperation sale. That brought a smirk to her face. She led the man into the living room and motioned for him to sit on the recliner just adjacent to the couch. She sat on the end of the couch and crossed her left leg over her right in a position that made the sole of her foot perfectly visible to the guy. Don Rogers' heart almost skipped a beat when Kellie's sole became suddenly exposed no more than 12 inches from where he sat. The distraction was almost more than he could handle. He found himself continually looking quickly from the briefcase in his lap to the girl's face so that he could glance briefly at her foot each time. The sole was, in fact, the color of cream and flawless. Jesus, he thought to himself, they were beautiful. He finally cleared his throat and started talking magazines. "What I have here," he nervously said, leaning over toward the girl with a pamphlet in his hand, "are the discount prices I was talking about." He extended his hand just three or so inches above her foot. Kellie looked at the pamphlet, and he took that opportunity to get a real good look at her foot. He felt so close to it, the impulse to kiss was nearly overwhelming. Kellie could see him out of the corner of her eye. It was time for a little fun. "I don't want to read it," she said, almost arrogantly. "You can just point out the parts I need to know." "Well, all right," the salesman replied. Disappointed, he began to recline back in the chair. "I'll hold that," Kellie interjected, taking the pamphlet out of the man's hand. "I can see it better this way." She pointed at the ground in front of the recliner. "You can sit there so you can see it, too." Don Rogers felt almost as if "he" was the teenager, and this young girl was an adult giving him orders. But she is only a teenager, he thought to himself. He considered himself an adult and had a certain amount of self pride. And here was this adolescent making him feel like he wasn't good enough to be in the same room with her. He felt like responding and restaking his adult authority, yet he was also hesitant to seem defiant to her. He felt that she would dismiss him for the act, and his sale would be out the window. Then he wondered what difference there would be if the sale wasn't an issue. It bothered him to conclude that he would still feel as if she were his superior. Pride and all, Don Rogers nervously slid off the chair in his only suit and sat on the floor. His nerves took another jolt when he realized the young teen's foot was less than six inches from his face. His composure was not the hardest thing to keep down at that time. "Now," Kellie spoke, startling the man, "show me the prices." As she said this, she held the pamphlet toward him by placing the back of her hand on her ankle so that the pamphlet was poised just a half-inch above her foot. Don Rogers could not have avoided looking at her foot if he had wanted to. "It's... it's... I mean the prices... the prices they... I mean the prices are below the magazines... the titles... the prices are below the magazine titles," he stammered like a foolish child. Kellie smiled. "Point to them so I can see them," she said. Don Rogers was in the process of redefining the density of an erection, and he was on the verge of splattering his shorts with a volume of cream unmeasurable in the real world. The stiffness between his legs was agonizing. His hand was shaking when he extended his arm toward the pamphlet. Kellie moved her hand back slightly as he reached so that the position of the pamphlet would require that the salesman's wrist would be directly above her foot. She observed his erection, too. She was really enjoying herself. Don Rogers realized that he would almost be touching the girl's foot when he pointed at the magazine title at the bottom of the pamphlet. The very idea sent a shiver down his spine. With trembling fingers, he pointed at that spot, and his wrist made contact with the side of her heel. The skin was cool and felt almost like silk. And it was slightly moist. He was paralyzed with the moment. "Mr. Salesman?" Kellie called, shaking him from his stupor. He realized that he was still pointing at the pamphlet and resting his wrist on Kellie's foot. "You can quit pointing now," she said. "I can see the title." Don Rogers quickly retracted his hand. "I'm sorry," he uttered, looking down, which was a bad idea because Kellie's foot stared him right in the face. He swallowed and stared. "Are you all right?" Kellie questioned. "You look pale. Does your head hurt? Here, let me see." Kellie placed her hand on the top of his head and rubbed it. "Tell me if that hurts." "Nuh... no," was Don Rogers' reply. Kellie placed her hand on the side of his head and pushed in a little. "How about that?" "No... it's feeling okay." Kellie placed her hand on the back of his head pressed. "That?" she asked. "I... don't think so," Don Rogers responded. "Are you sure?" Kellie pressed a little harder, moving the salesman's head some two inches forward. His face drew closer to her foot. Don Rogers could not speak. "Hmm," Kellie continued, frowning, "maybe I'd better look at it." Kellie leaned over to look behind the salesman while, at the same time, pushing his head forward. Contact was made, and Don Rogers was suddenly in another world. He had seen it coming. She had kept pushing his head forward inch by inch, and he had not even tried to stop her. He felt completely under the control of this pretty teenager's ambience. Suddenly, as if in a dream, his lips were pressing against the softest, smoothest object of worship imaginable. He could not move or speak with the electricity spinning crazily through his spine. He felt more pressure applied to the back of his head which pressed his face into the girl's foot. He made a muffled grunting sound and heard a giggle. He heard a voice telling him that he was going to have to prove how much he wanted to make a sale. The voice told him to lick the foot in his face. Don Rogers, grunting like a pig, opened his mouth and began french- kissing the moist foot of a 14-year old. His head bowed like a slave, he paid homage to the goddess laughing above him. His tongue swirled across the velvet surface of her instep; he slurped the soft wrinkles, the satin texture. Don Rogers lost his composure within seconds of submitting to his needs. Come gushed from his steel rod like water bursting from a balloon. The spasms rocked his body with impunity. The dampness filled his pants with darkening madness. His eyelids fluttered, and Don Rogers slumped to the floor. Kellie was beside herself watching the salesman grinding his mouth and tongue on her feet. She saw the stain spreading in his pants just before he fell over. He lay there, breathing heavily with his eyes rolled back in his head. Kellie moved herself from the couch to the recliner and rested both feet on his face. His body convulsed in reaction, and he sort of flopped there for several seconds. Kellie leaned back and enjoyed the soothing warmth of the man's face under her feet. Don Rogers awoke but could not see. He felt something cool and slightly damp on his face, and he felt delirious. When he stirred, the softness lifted off his face, and he breathed in the cool air. He then remembered where he was. He arose groggily to his knees and looked at the smirking face of the young girl who had made him grovel. He was embarrassed without knowing what to say. He looked at his watch and realized he was due to report back to the bus in 20 minutes. Still, he had not written out the magazine order. Embarrassed, humiliated, humbled, shamed, whatever-- he needed to make the sale. "Uh, ma'am?" he managed to speak, "could we finish the sale, and I'll be on my way?" Kellie looked at the kneeling salesman with disgust. "I'm not buying anything today," she responded. "You can leave now." Don Rogers was beside himself. This arrogant bitch had played around with him like a department store toy, and now she was dismissing him! The ire rose in his throat and bottlenecked upward. He suddenly realized who he was, and who he was would not take this shit from a young girl. He got to his feet and looked at her with the color red in his eyes. "Now listen to me, you snot-nosed bitch..." he hissed. "You either buy two subscriptions or I'm going slap that pretty face of yours until it bruises." Kellie rose from the recliner and looked him square in the face. "Fuck off, foot-licker," she calmly replied. Don Rogers was never able to accept the concluding events of that day. He could recall raising his hand to strike the smart-assed girl in the mouth when, suddenly, the breath was knocked out of him from the girl's foot striking his solar plexus. Her strength was startling, and he had fallen to his knees. He looked up in sheer disbelief at her face and caught a glimpse of a sneer before a creamy smooth foot crashed against his mouth. His eyes crossed, and the room skipped around on him. He felt a curious sensation, as if he was nodding furiously, or something. His next conscious experience would be behind some bushes in the girl's front yard. He did not bother to wonder how long he had been out and why the top of his head hurt. Nor did he bother confronting the girl again. He knew what had happened, and he knew it could happen again. Don Rogers picked up the briefcase and pamphlet lying beside him and staggered out of that neighborhood for the first and last time. Kellie rested on her bed and remembered how she had watched the salesman leave the yard that day. He had no idea how funny he had looked when she landed the first kick to his face. He had started to fall backward, but she had grabbed his shirt collar and held him up long enough to deliver ten barefoot kicks to his bobbing face. He looked like Tim did the night before. Kellie looked at the clock and decided she had better get going to the mall. She decided to wear sandals in honor of her conquest of the salesman. As she left the house, Kellie looked over at the bushes where she had dragged him by the hair. I wonder if he remembers me? Kellie thought to herself with a smile. She looked around. It was a beautiful day and would be even better tomorrow at school. She decided to walk to the mall and enjoy the weather. With that, Kellie Bruner turned and headed off, her tanned feet flashing in the sunlight. Dangerous Part III Back To School I thought that I wouldn't have anymore trouble from Kellie after the way she beat and humiliated me over the weekend. Still, I realized everyone at school would know about it, and I wasn't sure how to respond. I decided just to be as low key as possible and ignore or laugh off any situations that would be potentially embarrassing. The night had been difficult for me to accept. I mean, the mere thought of getting my ass kicked by a girl was bad enough. Even worse was the idea that it had been Kellie who had physically destroyed me using just her feet. The humiliation of her stepping on my face and forcing me to lick her feet in front of lots of people was the ultimate disgrace. Jesus, I was a lot bigger than she was. I should have been able to take a girl. Still, after that night, I didn't want any part of her. I would suffer the humiliation from school until it blew over. At least she had gotten her victory and wouldn't have any need to do anything else to me. When I got to school that day, everybody, I mean everybody, had something to say or a question to ask. Annette, a girl I used to date (and dumped unceremoniously), was the first to come up to me. By the smile on her face, I knew she had heard. As she walked up, she brushed her blonde hair from her eyes and bit her lip slightly, as if she were trying to decide how she wanted to begin. It didn't take long. "Hi, Tim," she began, "I hear you got into a fight this weekend, and your face is bruised. What happened? Did some big, powerful weightlifter make those bruises on your face?" I thought for a second then decided on an approach. "Weightlifter? What are you talking about? You mean Kellie's date? I don't know if he is a weightlifter, but he seemed to know karate or something." Annette's eyes opened wider, her mouth parting in a surprised smile. "Kellie's date?! Wait a minute, someone told me it was Kellie, and not her date, who messed you up like that!" I looked shocked. "Where did you hear that from?" I asked. "Jane. She said Monica told her about it." "That figures. No, it was her boyfriend. Furthermore, he hit me before I was ready, or else this might not have happened. Annette looked at me quizzically, deciding, it seemed, whether her source of information had been reliable. "Are you sure?" she asked. I snorted. "Of course I'm sure. Geez, do you think Kellie could do this to me?" "Well..., no, I guess not," she said, frowning, "but Jane seemed pretty sure about it. She said you sucked Kellie's toes." "Come on, Annette," I responded. "Can you picture me sucking anybody's toes?" She squinted her eyes at me. "Not really, unless you were forced to or something. But, I don't know, Jane seemed really sure...." "To hell with Jane." I was feeling a little bolder for some stupid reason. "The day Kellie can kick my ass is the day I'll suck your toes." That slight smile returned to Annette's face. "Well, if I do find out differently," she said, "you can clean my ring for me." I thought about that one. What if she did find out? I looked down at her feet, but her brown, leather shoes covered her feet and the ring on her left middle toe. I pictured myself having to clean her ring if I was caught in the lie, and the thought was discomforting. I didn't want to have to lick the feet of a girl I had dumped for some other chick I had met back when we were going out. But, at the same time, I wasn't going to withdraw my story. "Yeah, whatever, Annette," I finally said, starting to walk away. I heard her last words as I wandered off. "I will find out, Tim, and you will get on your hands and knees and lick my feet if you're lying. And I'll laugh at you while you do it!" I shook my head slightly and kept walking. First bell was about to ring, so I headed to class. Thankfully, my first class was not with Kellie. If I had it my way, I wouldn't see her at all today. The school wasn't very big, about 400 students, and the building were set in sort of a quad structure with separate structures comprised of a small number of classrooms. I didn't have to walk out in the yard area if I didn't want to. That would allow me to avoid her at least until lunch. Then again, I could leave campus for lunch and not have to see her until 5th period. It worked fairly well. Those who had not attended the party were given my "Kellie's date" story, and I simply ignored those who had been at the party by smiling and shaking my head as if dismissing their statements. It helped to enter each class just before it began. The teachers had this thing about students talking during lecture. Between classes was the hardest, but I managed to keep the embarrassment at a minimum. Finally, the lunch bell rang, and I headed for my car. As I walked out of the classroom, Jane came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned my head toward me as I walked. "Jane," I said, "what's up?" "Annette said she talked to you, and you told her that it was Kellie's boyfriend who beat you up. Monica told me it was Kellie." "Oh, when did you speak to her?" "Yesterday afternoon. She's sick or something today, so I haven't had a chance to talk to her again." That was fairly good news to me, at least delaying the undesirable until I could come up with some other patch. Still, I wondered if she would talk to Kellie. She and Kellie weren't exceptionally close, but the possibility of them talking seemed likely. "Yeah, I guess the story is getting around that Kellie kicked my ass or something. I know she hates me, and that may be why she's saying that. She may tell you that she did kick my ass, but if she does, just remember that she might say anything the way she feels about me." Jane seemed to be thinking about that. She cocked her head a little to the side and spoke: "Would you come over with me and ask Kellie in front of her?" I mentally froze for a second. With a quick shake of my head and a, by then, habitual snorted, I responded. "Look, Jane, I'm just going to let things pass. Whatever happened over the weekend is over. Kellie's date got some good shots in on me, but I don't hold a grudge. As far as I'm concerned, it's over. So, I'm just going to avoid anymore hassles. Comprende?" Jane looked at me. "Whatever, but Annette has this thing about making you grovel at her feet if she finds out you're lying. She says she's going to talk to Kellie, and if it's true, you will either get down on your knees to her or she'll ask Kellie to beat you up again." I didn't like the sound of that, but I was too proud to confess anything. "Whatever," I said, breaking away from her toward the parking lot. I had to pass by the bench situated beneath a big tree by the cafeteria. It was the only way to reach the parking lot. A group of students were gathered on and around the bench, but Kellie wasn't one of them. I couldn't see her anywhere, so I figured I was home free. As I started to pass the bench, Mr. Racer, my history teacher, came out of the cafeteria and called me over. I thought about ignoring him, but he had seen me looking directly at him. Against my better judgment, I stopped about twenty feet to the side of the bench, and he walked up to me. He started talking about a project he wanted me to help him with (I was actually a good student), but I wasn't hearing much of what he had to say because Kellie and Annette emerged from the cafeteria and made their way to the bench. Kellie was wearing some designer t-shirt, grayish shorts, and white sandals with spaghetti straps. Seeing her for the first time since the weekend was strangely erotic. Her power over me had psychologically raised her to a level and lowered me several. I felt that she was better than me, something I had never felt about anyone. To me, she was someone to be feared. Since I didn't want the humility, I just wanted to be away from her. I honestly despised her and all she stood for, but it was the power, the sheer power, that drew me to her. Given the opportunity, I would have spat in her face and punched her nose bloody. But I had my opportunity recently, and I lost big time. Before she or Annette could notice me, I turned away and acted as if I were listening to Mr. Racer. After a few more sentences, he concluded and walked off. I felt transfixed because I felt suddenly alone and vulnerable. However, I started walking again with my eyes straight ahead. With just a little luck, something bad could be avoided. My luck ran out in less than three steps. "Hey, Tim..." a voice called out, almost at a conversational level. My face started to tingle because the voice was Kellie's. Slowly, I stopped walking and turned my head in her direction. She was sitting on the side of the bench facing me, a burrito in her hand, and a smile on her face. An evil, badly intentioned smile. I swallowed. "Yeah?" I answered, trying to subtract the vibrations from the sound of my voice. She raised her left hand, extended her index finger, and motioned me over. Fuck, was the predominant thought in my head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Her right leg was crossed over her left, and she rotated her ankle as I approached. When I came within five feet, I stopped. I didn't say anything but just waited for her to speak. She did. "I've been talking to Annette," she began. "Annette says you told her that my date beat you up. Did you tell her that?" Kellie's tone was condescending, and the shame of not being able to stand up to that tone ate at me. I thought quickly for a response to neutralize what might happen and a way to get out of the situation. "Look, Kellie," I said, placing a light blanket of self- assurance on my voice. "I don't want to get into anything else about anything with you. I know you despise me, and I can't say I blame you. So, I'll just keep to myself, and you don't have to worry about me, and I won't bother you." I prayed silently that my statement would inoculate the situation. It didn't. "What is it you don't want to get into with me, Tim?" I pursed my lips for a second and rubbed both eyes with the fingers on my left hand. "Anything, Kellie. If I did you wrong, then I'm sorry. You hate me, and that's fine. I'd like to leave it at that." Kellie smirked. "You didn't answer my question," she said. "Kellie, I did.... I said that enough has happened..." "But you didn't tell me what it is you don't want to get into me with." I licked my lips briefly but stopped when I realized it probably would make me look nervous. I had to think a way out of the situation. I could see the clouds building, and the storm was due any minute. At that point, Annette joined in. "So, tell me, Tim. Who did that to your face?" Several of the guys and girls smiled when she said that. Kellie, herself, had no expression on her face. I could sense her disgust for me. "Let it go, Annette," I responded. I was at an impasse. The questions were becoming more specific and the answers less available. Kellie, still sitting calmly, interrupted. "She doesn't have to let it go. She can say anything she wants, and she wants to know who did that to your face. Why don't you go ahead and tell her..." I thought fiercely and opted to salvage my pride and hope the consequences weren't stiff or immediate. "I got into a fight with Kellie's date," I said evenly, looking directly at Annette. Kellie's eyes seemed to darken, and she spoke to me slowly: "I'm going to give you a choice, Tim. You either tell the truth or you eat my burrito." That was a strange +%##!*#, but I couldn't believe the window Kellie had provided for me. Eating the burrito would be easy. I had already said that I wanted to avoid anymore problems and eating the burrito would almost be a noble thing to do, like a gentleman's act of chivalry. "Okay," I responded, "to avoid any more tension, I'll do what you want." I began to walk over. At the same time, this arrogant smirk stretched out on Kellie's pretty face. I walked up to her and extended my hand for the burrito. Everyone at the bench was looking on with great interest. Kellie held the burrito toward me. I started to close my fingers on it. Suddenly, just as I almost had it in my grasp, Kellie opened her hand,released the burrito, and let it fall to the ground. I stared at her. "Why did you do that?" I said, astonished. "Because I wanted to," she said. "Now eat." This wasn't looking too good. Yet, I remained emotionally controlled. I closed my eyes, smiled, and shook my head. "Okay, Kellie." The tone was patronizing. "Like I said, I don't want anymore trouble between us. I'll eat it even though you dropped it. Then, I hope you will be happy." The manner in which I said those words convinced me that I might actually pull the whole thing off, leaving our classmates with the impression that Kellie was a spoiled brat, and I was doing the gentlemanly thing. I leaned down to pick up the burrito. Kellie stopped me by placing her sandaled foot near my face. "I have a better idea," she said. I hesitated, still half-kneeling on the grass. With intensifying horror, I watched as Kellie leaned over and began untying the ankle straps on her right sandal. With the bow undone, the shoe dropped to the ground next to the burrito. I started to rise but she held up her hand, motioning me to wait for a second. I spent that second watching Kellie extend her cream colored foot and lower it onto the burrito. As I stared stupidly, she began to grind her foot on the burrito. Flour, beans, and whatever else went into the things were being smeared on the sole and side of her foot. To this day, I will not forget the sight of beans squishing up between her toes or the way her foot abruptly stopped grinding, lifted off the mess, then dangled there as Kellie again crossed her leg at the knee. Beans, flour, and dirt covered her slender foot. I was still in my half-bent position. "Now," she said, extending her foot toward my mouth, "enjoy your lunch." Any noble charade in the world would be rendered meaningless if I licked the dirt and burrito off the foot that stared me in the face. The fight or flight response was rebounding inside my head, with the flight part bouncing hardest. On the one hand, I could fight her; however, if I lost (and after the weekend, I knew that was a strong possibility) she could really injure me badly and would humiliate me, anyway. If I ran, everyone would know what a coward I was (afraid of a girl, they would say), Kellie would track me down eventually, kick my ass, and humiliate me then. Either way, I would suffer physically and be embarrassed in front of lots of people. The only other response, and the safest, would be to lick her foot. Somewhere inside me, I realized that a simple confession about the weekend would no longer suffice. The confession would simply be made, and she would still demand my submission. The choice was clear. I heard a collective gasp as I bowed my head, opened my mouth, and extended my tongue to her foot. "Wait," Kellie said abruptly, "and don't move an inch. I've got a better idea." So, I stayed that way, on one knee, with my neck and tongue extended. She continued: "Ask me for permission to lick this shit off my foot." She was giggling, apparently enjoying herself. "And put your other knee on the ground. Get on your hands and knees, little doggie, and beg for my foot. Pray to me that I don't kick your face in like I did the other night. Do it now." I swallowed hard. The blood pressing against my cheeks, and I could hear people laughing and commenting at the sight of me bowing before Kellie Bruner, in complete servitude to a girl sitting on a lunch bench with her foot dangling in my face. To my immediate left, her sandal lay on the ground. What had once covered her foot would soon be replaced by my mouth. My face was going to be used like an object, something for her personal satisfaction. I was no better than that sandal. I was going to lick some dirty, trampled shit off her foot like I was a dog at her command. The realization of my position brought tears to my eyes. I breathed in deeply, then did as I was told. "Kellie..." I began before being cut off. "No," Kellie corrected, "call me Princess Kellie." "Princess Kellie," I continued with no hesitation, "may I lick your foot clean?" "Raise your head and look straight ahead," she answered. I did so, and Kellie extended her foot and slowly wiped it from heel to toe across the front of my face. Gritty layers of burrito covered my left eye, nose, and mouth. And I just knelt there letting her do it. Everyone was either grinning or laughing, the loudest being Annette. Kellie just smiled. "Now lick the rest off," Kellie ordered, pointing her toe toward my mouth in a pristine manner. I opened my mouth and accepted her toe inside. I wrapped my lips around it and began sucking. I swallowed the residue that remained and moved my tongue around to clean her toe completely. Once the burrito had been sucked off, the softness of her toe took over. Again, I was amazed at the purity of her feet. I couldn't believe that something so soft, silky, and sweet could be so deadly. The creamy texture and tone of her foot stared me right in the eyes. I hated what I was doing, and I hated the person I was doing it to, but irony of my hatred and the incredible object of beauty in my mouth captured me. I felt my dick starting to stir, and I tried to control it, to make it go down or away. But it grew and grew, and I sucked and sucked. My body started to spasm as orgasm approached. I could hear murmurs and laughter as sweat began to bead on my forehead. The grunts that came from my throat were not under my control. "What's he doing?" I heard Annette say. My eyes were closed tight and my cheeks were caved in from the sucking. The pleasure I was receiving from Kellie's smooth toe intensified with every movement of my mouth, every swab of my tongue, as if I were sucking myself. I could feel the liquid rising from my balls, climbing my rigid shaft that seemed to have a mind of its own. "Oh, my God," Kellie blurted, "he's getting off on my foot again!" More murmurs and some shouts of surprise. Laughter. Shrieks. Giggles. The pants I wore that day were thin, white cotton. The knees were already stained from my kneeling position. The stain that spread in my crotch was undeniable as the come flooded forth, sending me into convulsive twitches, hard grunts shaking my throat. I felt as if I were in some metaphysical coma with lengths of colorful pleasures wrapping around and inside my body. I started to hump the air as string after heavy string of hot cream poured out of my cock and into the fabric of my attire. I could hear my classmates screaming about the dark wetness spreading outward. More laughter and exclamations of disbelief. Kellie's soft toe never left my mouth. Gradually, the sensations subsided as did the force of the contractions. My breathing slowly lessened it's crazed force. My senses started to return, senses of shame, humiliation, softness, and warm stickiness. I opened my eyes and stared at the tanned foot I held in my mouth. I waited for God knows what. Kellie was laughing above me. She continued to laugh as she lifted her other leg and rested it on my right shoulder, the ankle supported by my shoulderblade. I looked at her face and saw the bright smile shining away. She licked her lips and addressed me. "Clean the rest of my foot now," she said. "I have to go to class in a few minutes." She leaned her head back to enjoy the sun on her face. Her elbows supported her on either side. She withdrew her toe from my mouth and seemed to smirk at the plopping sound it made. She held her foot straight out and told me to get busy. With my lips and tongue, I washed her foot clean of the food and dirt paste. Again, I marvelled at the wrinkled softness of her soles. I could never imagine anything being that soft and moist. Her foot was clean, but I continued to lick and french kiss her slender instep, her baby-smooth heels. I was repulsed at my behavior and outraged at her arrogance. But I licked like a dog. Like her dog. The sensations began to return as my lips locked in. I was beginning to shake again when her foot suddenly was taken away. In my half-delirium, I tried to follow it down to the ground to finish my assignment. When Kellie's other foot halted my progress with a push against my shoulder, I realized what I had been doing. I just stopped where I was, my hands and knees planted on the ground, my head bowed to her tanned foot. She told me to get her sandal for her, which I quickly did. I handed it to her, and she told me to look up. When I did, she placed her bare foot firmly on my faced and forcefully pushed me away. My head lurched violently, and I fell onto my back. She told me to stay there. I did. When her foot was again adorned with the thin sandal, Kellie stood and walked over to where I lay. She stopped directly above me with both feet on either side of my head. She wasn't smiling. "The next time you decide to tell someone about the ass- kicking you took over the weekend, you'd better tell the truth, Tim," she said, "because the next time, I won't let you off with a footjob in front of a crowd. The next time," she concluded, planting her sandaled foot on my face, "I'll just kick your ass again." With that she pressed down and stepped on my face, walking on and over it as she headed off to class. As she walked away, I started to rise. I could hear the laughter from and around the bench as the crowd began to disperse. My psychological strength faded, and I laid back down. It wasn't until the laughter had faded that I began to raise my head again and get up. I had not moved more than three inches when something soft and moist blocked out the light and pressed my head back to the ground. The voice above it was familiar. It was Annette who now held my face to the ground. I had no esteem to stop her, to keep her from standing on me that way. Annette's voice was clear. "I told you that you would clean my ring if I found out you lied. Tim, I'm really ashamed of you. I can't stand people who lie. That really pisses me off." She lifted her foot off, and I watched her walk toward the bench. She was barefoot. "Get up and crawl over here," she said without turning around. Considering what had transpired over the lunch period, I had little resolve to disobey her. Besides, the way my life had suddenly changed over a span of three days, she would probably have been able to kick my ass, too. So, I got to my hands and knees. I crawled over the grass to where Annette sat on the bench, her arms folded across her chest, her left leg crossed over her right, her burgundy-painted toenails dangling eight inches from the ground, her gold toe-ring shining brightly in the sunlight. When I got to within an inch of her sculptured foot, she extended one arm and pointed at her toe. "Suck," she said. I opened my mouth, bowed my head, and to the sound of her laughter, took her toe into my mouth, and sucked. And sucked... and sucked.... End Part Three
  5. Don't judge the Judge by themaneloco Being the only female judge in my city carries weight. It had been a long road of ambition, education and professionalism to reach the height that I had. I'd barged my way through sexism and misogyny to sit comfortably in one of the most respected positions in the community. When I sat on that bench overseeing a hearing, it said 'Judge Sanders' on the nameplate and everyone knew it. I was in charge. Being a moderately attractive woman with that level of power also drew its fair share of admiration and respect. I was a popular body around the courthouse and most considered me a delight to work with. I also had the reputation of being professional and fair in my verdicts. I was a force to be reckoned with, and I thought nothing would get in the way of my ascent. Things changed when the court hired a new stenographer. Previously, recruitment had favoured ladies of an older variety; glasses and greying hair being the staple look. However, this time the newest member of the courthouse was a young, petite latina by the name of Emilia. She couldn't be any older than her mid-twenties and a lot of the male employees were quickly smitten with this fresh face around the building. She'd yet to sit in to one of my hearings, though I'd noticed her around. What stood out was that her dress attire wasn't at all suitable for the formal environment. Whereas every other employee wore smart suits or modest, formal dresses; Emilia would turn up in a knee-length, bright summer dress, even in the cold weather. At first glance, I was a bit annoyed by Emilia. She drew a lot of attention away from me; attention I'd worked very hard to obtain. After all, it was difficult for a woman to achieve what I had at this age and any attention and respect that was geared in my direction was most deserved. This girl was stealing it away by simply being exotic and pretty, not an ounce of hard work involved at all. I disapproved of her recruitment on all counts. Words of disapproval quickly spread. A few of the older judges in particular took a dim view of the new employee, as they felt her attire was disrespectful to the traditions of law. Some did comment in a lecherous way regarding her above-average appearance, but the general consensus was that a quiet word with her was needed. I readily agreed. That was until spring came around and she wore a pair of designer heels to work one day. My opinion of her flipped in an instant. I kept my sudden change of heart to myself, fearing that my peers would consider me soft or a hypocrite if I suddenly championed her corner. I couldn't tell them why I had taken such a liking to this girl out of nowhere. You see, even though I'm a married woman in my forties, I'd always had a thing about fashionable shoes. Emilia's summer dresses usually led down to a pair of high heels, wedges or sandals and after noticing them for the first time, I couldn't stop myself from looking down whenever I passed her in the hallway. What didn't help was that her feet were very pretty, and always perfectly pedicured. On a few occasions I'd noticed the glimmer of jewellery too, whether it be a toe ring or an anklet. Frankly, I had no longer had any problem with the way the girl dressed, if anything, I liked it. I wouldn't consider myself a lesbian, but there was just something about her choice of footwear that grabbed my attention. Perhaps there was a little envy in it as I'd never been comfortable wearing such shoes. I didn't think they looked particularly good on my chunky ankles and my feet were far from what would be considered pretty. Emilia would wear them with such confidence and strut around the building with an elegance that I silently admired. It was as if my love of fashionable shoes could be lived vicariously through this sassy, young latina. I had wanted to start a conversation with her where I could drop a compliment in, but lacked the courage. Despite being in the enamoured position of being the first and youngest female judge in the courthouse, there was something about Emilia that drained my authority. I felt exposed and vulnerable whenever I saw her in her strappy wedges. She was on the very bottom of the ladder in terms of career progress within the courthouse, yet, I was intimidated and infatuated by her. Emilia knew she was a knockout too. I'd seen her countless times taking photos of herself in the restroom mirror, whilst flicking her hair and pouting her lips. Even when disturbed by another occupant such as myself, a judge, she wouldn't betray a single air of self-consciousness. If we accidentally made eye contact, I'd sheepishly look away. If anything, I felt like I was the one being inappropriate by disturbing her mini photoshoot. This girl had a natural presence, one that surpassed my own that I had worked so hard for. So it brought a tremor to my limbs when I first saw Emilia's name listed as the stenographer to sit in one of my hearings. The whole morning I daydreamed of ogling her dangling heels as she typed away. I was even worried that it may distract me from my performance as a judge. I took my job seriously and prided myself on being fair. But there was something about this girl, something that I couldn't resist. I actually felt guilty for being so against her at first. I was left disappointed however, as Emilia turned up to the court in a smart dress suit and closed pumps. I reasoned that maybe it was because I was a female judge, and she didn't feel the need to dress in a revealing way to court my favour. Whatever the reason, I was underwhelmed by our first day of work together. It was not the hours of dangling and dipping I'd envisioned. The hearing was fairly straight forward, and with the way Emilia was dressed there was nothing to distract me from overseeing it in a professional and efficient way. She typed away without a problem throughout; clearly she was good at her job and had gained it on merit. That I had to hand to her. When the day was over I packed up my things ready to leave, but noted that Emilia was still at her seat. She was bent over and rubbing the heel of one foot, her face noticeably showing some distress. I saw an opportunity to finally break the ice with her. “Good job today,” I said. I peered down at her shoes as she lightly massaged her heel. “Are you okay?” Emilia looked up, her brown eyes somewhat hidden amongst the parting of her darker hair. I'd heard that her family had emigrated from Venezuela, and it was clear to see in her dark features and tanned skin. “These shoes have been pinching me all day,” she said. “My feet are so sore.” “Are they new?” “Kind of. They're not the sort of thing I'd usually wear. I guess my feet just aren't used to being stuffed up in shoes like this.” “Why are you wearing them then?” I asked, I tried to mask my intrigue with a little chuckle. “I was told by HR that I had to dress more appropriately, whatever that means.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. I averted her gaze at that revelation. I was probably one of the people responsible for that, but I had changed my opinion, I really had. I tried to reassure her. “Yes, I had noticed. You usually dress so nicely and I've noticed you always wear such fashionable shoes.” I stopped myself before going any further, but felt my face reddening from my frankness. Emilia tilted her head slightly and offered me a curious look. The rubbing of her foot ceased. “I've never had a case with you before right?” “We haven't, no,” I said. “Oh, well, yes, I love my shoes. It's a bit of a bummer that I can't wear them any more. I like my toes being free.” Being a judge, I usually command a level of respect from the other court employees; but Emilia seemed to speak to me with comfort and relaxation, as if we'd known each other a long time and there was no need for formalities. From somewhere, deep within me, I felt the urge to give in to her. I wanted to give her the opportunity to get her way and see if she would take it. I can't explain where it came from, but the thought of her freely strutting around my courtroom in her heels gave me an idea. “Tell you what,” I said. “You can wear whatever you like when you're working with me.” I tried to sound like I was doing her a favour, when really the offer was fuelled entirely by my own desires. I was also somehow apprehensive of her response, fearing she'd call me out at any moment. Even though my words were largely harmless, I was nervous that she'd see right through me. My back felt wet with sweat. “Really?” She said, again with that obvious curiosity in her eyes. She looked me over intently, as if sizing me up and pondering my intentions. “Well, if you don't mind I'd really like that.” And with that it was settled. Emilia's attire would vary each day depending on whether it was one of my hearings that she sat in. If she was typing up for a different judge, she'd wear formal, smart clothes with closed pumps. But if she was working with me, those dresses and revealing shoes would come out again, and I'd spend most of the day ogling her perfect feet. We grew somewhat closer over the next weeks, only in a friendly capacity. It was all polite, but mundane talk. She'd tell me how her weekend went or what she had planned for the evening, all while dangling and twisting her heels. As discreet as I tried to be, my glances downwards were noted and I'd catch the tiniest of smirks from her every time she caught me. And she really took advantage of my relaxed rules. She'd spend her breaks playing around on her phone, taking photos of herself and sometimes of whatever pair of shoes she was wearing that day, most likely just to show her friends. What I'd have given to get my hands on those. Sometimes I'd catch her browsing through designer shoe web pages, no doubt searching for her next pair. She was a fashionista at heart, and I provided her with the platform to flaunt it all day long without repercussion. Her behaviour around me didn't go unnoticed and some of the other judges voiced their disapproval at me letting her wear whatever she liked. They claimed I was making a mockery of the court. I'd had some grief in the past with me being the only female judge, but through my judgements and professionalism, I'd won the senior judges over and gained their respect. My behaviour with Emilia was putting that at risk. It didn't help that I was in agreement with them only weeks before. They seemed at a loss regarding my sudden turnaround. I played my relaxed approach to her appearance as a female-empowerment thing; whereby as long as she did her job well and was professional in that capacity, she was free to wear what she liked. It was a load of rubbish, but an inspired reasoning. I was almost proud. Most backed off after that explanation I'd plucked from the air, not wanting to be accused of sexism. If only they knew my true motives. As the weeks passed by, I complimented Emilia often on her choice of shoes. Gradually, she became a lot more forward in showing off her footwear to me. She'd turn her seat in such a way that I'd have a full view of her legs and shoes during court. If she was in a pair of sandals, she'd slip them off and arch and flex her feet, often with a sideways glance to see if I'd noticed. And I did. I noticed everything, for instance that her toenail polish changed colour on a weekly basis. Her teasing had become ruthless. And the shoes, every day they'd alternate. If she wore a pair I'd never seen before, she'd ask me whether I liked them. “Do you like my new heels, Judge Sanders?” She'd asked one morning, before court had commenced. I tried to appear nonchalant, but I suspected my enthusiasm crept through. “Very nice Emilia, and your pink polish is very pretty.” “Thanks Judge,” she grinned. “I'm glad you approve.” On many occasions during a hearing, I'd stare a bit too long and she'd turn and catch me. My embarrassment was always heightened by an amused shake of her head or roll of her eyes. It was never explicitly voiced between us, but I was increasingly paranoid that Emilia was fully aware of my weakness when it came to her shoes. It embarrassed and ashamed me. Perhaps she just thought I was a sad old lesbian with a crush. I'd been starting to wonder if that was far from the truth, such was the level of my infatuation. I'd sometimes feel immense regret when I returned home after a long day to my husband. It just wasn't right that I should be this infatuated with my female stenographer's feet and the footwear she chose to adorn them with. If anyone knew, especially my husband, I would be absolutely mortified. The age difference just made it all the worse. I tried to shake it off, however, I simply couldn't resist looking whenever an opportunity presented itself. The next day in work, there I'd be, gazing at Emilia's swinging feet. The exchanges between us were always civil and harmless, so I felt safe in my secret admiration and enabling of her flaunting. But still, that paranoia brewed at the back of my mind. Things continued in the same way until one day Emilia came to work in a pair of enclosed ballet flats. My face must have visibly sagged as she immediately picked up on my disappointment. “What's up Judge? Something wrong?” She asked with a smirk, as if baiting me to voice my disappointment and cross a line. By this point her tone with me was absolutely informal. I'd had many opportunities to put her straight on that, but a quick glance down at her feet and I couldn't find the words. She even popped her heel out of one flat and twisted her foot on the ball, baiting me even further. “Umm.” I struggled between shying away and asking her why her feet were covered up. “You okay?” Emilia continued. We had sort of an unspoken understanding regarding my admiration of her footwear. She tolerated it if it meant she got to wear whatever she liked. But there was a twinkle in Emilia's eye, as if she was urging me to voice the obvious and confirm what we both already knew: I liked Emilia's feet, not just her shoes. “I'm just a little tired,” I said, completely chickening out. “Don't work so hard then,” she replied with a wink. Moments later she was in her seat ready to type, and not a glimpse of her feet was given for the rest of the day. Emilia wore the same flats again the day after, and by the third day of those flats completely denying my ogling of her feet I couldn't take it any more. I needed to know why she wasn't letting me look at those feet; how could she be so cruel? She got to wear her fashionable shoes to work, and I would get to admire how they looked on her. That was the unspoken agreement, right? I had to know why she wasn't playing ball any more. It was a concern I may have crossed the line and creeped her out. Either way I had to know, it was too frustrating seeing those pretty feet hidden away all day. Once court was over and everyone else had left, I ambled over to Emilia as she packed away her things. “So, won't we all be seeing your excellent taste in shoes any more Emilia?” I tried to voice it like everyone in court had noticed, rather than it being my sole observation. I also said it in a friendly manner, hoping she wouldn't pounce and out me for what I was. Emilia spun in her chair and offered me the biggest smile I'd ever seen on her pretty face. “Missing them are you?” She teased. I shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot before Emilia's intense stare, thinking of something witty to retort but nothing came to mind. I wasn't expecting her to be so forthright. She seemed to enjoy my squirming before putting me out of my misery. “Things have been a bit tight actually,” she sighed. “I haven't been able to afford my regular pedicure this week. It blows.” “Aren't you able to paint them yourself?” “Oh no way,” she said with mild shock. “I never paint them myself. My toes deserve the very best, don't you think?” “Yes, Emilia. They do.” The words had left my mouth before I'd really given them any thought. There was a moment of silence between us, as if she was genuinely bemused that I would outright admit such a thing; her mouth hung agape. Meanwhile, my lips were sealed in embarrassment between two reddening cheeks. Emilia cocked her head slightly, as if weighing me up, then that knowing smile returned. “So what are we going to do about that Judge?” She finally asked, seemingly sensing her chance had been lain before her. I could see the amusement strewn all over her face. She was teasing me and enjoying every second of it. But there was something more than that too; she was testing me. Further prodding followed. “Don't you like seeing my feet all nice and pretty in my shoes?” “I suppose I could pay for your pedicure, if that would help.” I immediately looked at the floor after the words had left my mouth. I was so ashamed, a woman in my respected position offering such a thing to this young court typist. First I let her strut her beauty around my courtroom, and now I was going to contribute to it. “Really?” Emilia replied, in genuine surprise. She slipped her feet from her flats and stretched them out along the floor. Her toes were indeed unpolished, though still very beautiful; at least in that regard she was being honest. “You really want to do that for me?” I looked down at her pretty feet. Was getting to see them a reward for offering to pay for her pedicure? If so, it did the trick.“Yes, Emilia,” I said sheepishly. My eyes lingered from the floor to those nude toes. “Better get your purse then,” she teased. I didn't hesitate and Emilia left the office that evening with my money firmly in her grasp. It wasn't a lot in terms of my salary, but there was a deeper meaning to it. It was symbolic. We both knew what it meant and things would never be the same after that day. The next morning Emilia rolled in sporting a pristine French pedicure, a ring on the second toe of each foot and a gold anklet. The wedges of choice were her sexiest yet, and they really showed off the muscular tone of her calves. She was a vision from head to toe. I knew straight away it was money well spent. I couldn't take my eyes off her shoes as she took her seat, and I even caught one of the lawyers checking her out below the ankles. She often got looks, but usually they were focused on her pretty face and svelte figure. I felt a sense of pride that it was my money that had made those feet look so perfect. Throughout the day she teased me relentlessly, turning in her seat frequently and crossing her legs, kicking her foot up and down. I knew I was being rewarded for pleasing her. Once the the day was over Emilia approached me at the bench and asked if I liked her pedicure. I almost salivated over myself as I took a closer look and nodded intensely. Again, I felt that sense of pride, though blushed at Emilia's familiar knowing smirk. Every day that we worked together for the next fortnight, Emilia wore a different pair of shoes to show off that French pedicure. Not much else was said between us regarding her footwear, and it was never mentioned that I had been the one to pay for her pedicure. It felt a bit naughty that it was a secret between us, that no one else in the courthouse new of. If she mentioned it to anyone, I'd be unbearably humiliated and unable to offer any explanation to my behaviour. Thankfully, not a word was said by her to a single soul though the possibility of her spilling the beans was always hanging over me. I just let it flow and hoped things would pan out, putting any doubts to the back of my mind. Emilia would show off her feet every day, and I would get to look at them once again. That was the unspoken agreement between us and I relished every moment. I was enjoying work more than ever until the end of that fortnight when Emilia turned up to the court in those ballet flats again. Not a word was said, but the message was clear. All day I tried to be strong and resist giving in to her, but as she packed up her gear at the day's close, I walked up to her money in hand. “Thanks Judgey,” she said whilst snatching the notes from my grasp. Her smile gleamed at the unspoken submission I had just offered up to her. I cringed at being called that name but couldn't find the right words to stand up for myself, with having just handed her money for her pedicure a second time. It was now official, I had become Emilia's pedicure provider, and from that point forth she'd expect me to fulfil my responsibility whenever she required it. If I didn't, I wouldn't be seeing those feet. The next few months saw that trend continue. I got to see Emilia's feet in her sexy shoes every time we worked together, and when the flats made an appearance I knew it was time to fulfil my duty. I didn't let her down once. She even let me pick the colour of her pedicure on one occasion. Emilia seemed quite content with the arrangement. She had it good after all. She didn't even have to ask to get what she wanted, plus the money she was saving had to have been a help. I too was content. I got to see those feet on a daily basis, and I revelled in some perverse sense of fulfilment by being her secret pedicure funder. It was naughty, and so wrong, but I liked it. It made me tingle inside to know I was the most powerful person in that courtroom, but the newbie court typist had me paying for her pedicures. It was all teetering on the line of acceptability. I hadn't done too much that had crossed the line professionally. Sure, it was embarrassing paying for her pedicures, and the fact she knew I was helpless to resist pampering her feet made my stomach turn. However, only the two of us knew and she didn't seem intent on pushing things any further. In actuality, she showed little interest in me other than on a professional sense and me fulfilling this one duty when required. Part of my enjoyment was the secrecy of it all, and I hoped she felt the same way too. She hadn't given me any reason to assume otherwise. Emilia was adept at keeping me on my toes though. Whenever I felt settled, she'd change things up. She was a most astute manipulatrix and I was naively completely out of my depth. One Friday, Emilia approached the bench after the courtroom had cleared and only the two of us were left. “Hey Judgey, I'm gonna head to the salon tonight,” she said. “My nails need a touch up.” I still hated her calling me that, but I felt powerless to correct her now that we had this secret between us. It was just such a symbol of disrespect on her part, but she got away with it every time. Her telling me she was going to the salon was new however. I looked down to double-check that the flats hadn't made an appearance that day; on her feet were a pair of strappy sandals. My eyes drifted back to Emilia's and I saw her waiting expectantly. The message was received. I reached over for my purse and fished out a couple of notes. Seconds later they were in her possession. Emilia smiled and swung her handbag around her waist. She pulled out the familiar pair of flats and placed them gently on the bench. “I guess I won't be needing these any more.” She said. “Be a dear and throw them in the trash for me, will you?” She gave me a cheeky wink, spun on her heel and left. She knew damn well those flats wouldn't be going in the trash. I spent the whole drive home with one held to my face, intoxicated by her young, feminine scent. The smell wasn't overbearing, but it was present. I took deep breathes, trying to extract the stinky fragrance from every inche of the fabric. They smelled good. Oh, so good. I mentally revelled in being Emilia's personal pedicure provider whilst her shoe was plastered against my nose. The knowledge that I was at the beck and call of the needs of my typist's feet turned me on immensely. I took perverse pleasure in the idea that I was training myself to form an attachment to Emilia's scent with every sniff, addicting myself to the natural perfume of her feet. Each night after that, it would be my secret tribute to her feet's perfection. I would sniff them intently before joining my husband in bed. It made me extra frisky and heightened our lovemaking. I felt guilty, but that guilt never surpassed the euphoria felt when inhaling Emilia's tatty flats. She'd now invaded my home, even though she'd never stepped a foot in there. It was a Sunday that things stepped up a further level and I felt my control of the situation dwindling. I'd spent the afternoon with my husband shopping, and had just dropped him off at the local social club. He was an avid football fan and enjoyed spending his weekends watching the game with a beer amongst old friends. Whilst driving home, I spotted Emilia huddled on a bus stop. She was such a petite girl and for once looked fragile for it. She wasn't dressed in her usual designer clothes and shoes, but rather gym gear. With it belting down with rain I felt a bit sorry for her, so I did the decent thing and pulled over. I wasn't given the opportunity to lower the window and offer her a ride home. As soon as she recognised me she'd opened the door and climbed in before I could mouth a word. Her respect for me was almost non-existent by this point, not that I could blame her. “Thanks Judgey,” she said. She flipped down the sunshield and checked herself in its mirror. She spoke while wiping the rain from her forehead and untangling a few strands of matted hair. “What a crappy day huh? You're a saviour.” “Not the best weather,” I said. “Are you soaked?” “It's mostly sweat from the gym. I've just had a long workout; been on the treadmill for about an hour.” She continued playing with her hair while looking in the mirror. Even after a workout and being caught in the rain, she was still a pretty girl. I looked down at her beat up sneakers and my thoughts lingered to her sweaty socks. An hour on a treadmill must have really made them nice and ripe. Would the smell be even more intense than her flats? It had to be. I must have stared a bit too long as Emilia caught me in the corner of her eye. “Really?” She said. She leant back in the seat and gave me a look of disbelief. “Even like this you still like them?” “What do you mean?” I asked. I tried to act like I had no idea what she was talking about. “Come on, after everything you still can't just say it to me?” It was true that we'd been through a lot together the past few months. Though it was plainly obvious to us both that I was obsessed with her feet -by this stage I was paying for her pedicures on a weekly basis- it had never been explicitly spoken between us. How it had gotten to this level without me having to admit the obvious was a mystery, but here we now were. Emilia had finally called me out. My only response was silence. “Just admit it,” she said. She sat with her arms crossed and stared blankly at me. I felt like a scolded child having to own up to breaking something. “Okay,” I said. I took a deep breath and stared straight out of the windscreen. My fingers gripped tightly at the steering wheel. I closed my eyes and finally admitted the truth. “I like your feet Emilia.” My face burned with the humiliation of being forced to finally state out loud what had been obvious for months. I, a respected judge, was completely obsessed with this young girl's feet. This was a huge step for me. I'd been lying to myself that it was about the shoes; it was all about her feet. She knew that now too. Emilia was quiet and I feared that our arrangement had come to an end, and possibly all professional respect with it. I peeped over and saw that she was playing around with her phone. “Does it bother you that I like them?” I asked with trepidation. She looked up at me with annoyance. “Huh?” She said. “As long as you keep taking care of them it's fine. Now are you going to take me home or not?” At Emilia's direction I drove her home and pulled up outside her apartment. It was modest and on the outskirts of the city, not the best area and I was surprised she caught the bus home every day. Perhaps she didn't really have a choice; she didn't appear to own a car. I waited in silence for her to get out. We hadn't spoken at all during the drive and I was still unsure how she felt about my finally admitting the truth. From her body language she didn't seem bothered, but she was a tough one to read. Emilia finished texting whoever on her phone and looked at me with a smile. “Thanks for the ride Judgey. You're always taking care of me aren't you?” “Could you please not call me that?” I whined. All those years of law school and countless cases and this was my reward. She laughed and shook her head. “I'll see you Monday, Judgey.” She opened the door and was halfway out before she stopped and turned. “You know what. I've an idea. Like I said, I've just been running on the treadmill for an hour and my feet are killing me. You want to take care of me a little bit more? Rub my feet for a bit maybe?” “Yes!” I said, way too enthusiastically. By this point I figured I may as well jump at the opportunity. Since everything was already out in the open and she was offering it on a plate, how could I resist? Emilia almost burst out in laughter at my excitement. “They're sweaty. You know they're gonna smell right?” She bit her lip and nodded her head. She was testing me again; seeing how far she could push me. She already knew what I was going to say. “You'd actually like that wouldn't you?” I closed my eyes. “Yes.” “I want to hear you say it.” “Yes, I'd like that.” “No.” She shook her head. “Nuh uh. Tell me what it is that you'd like.” Once again my face burned with humiliation at being made to state things how they were. She seemed to love watching me squirm. Her brown eyes were brimming with enchantment. I took a breath and told her what she wanted to hear: the truth. “I'd like to rub your sweaty, smelly feet for you Emilia.” What had I become? “Better come inside then,” Emilia said with a smile, and she turned towards her apartment. Emilia was stretched out on her sofa, her socked feet propped up on a footrest. With a glass of red wine in her hand and eyes closed, she was completely relaxed. I meanwhile had been massaging her soles for the past ten minutes, soothing the stresses from her tired muscles and drawing moans of approval from her. Her sneakers were discarded close by, but their pungent, damp smell lingered. She wasn't shy in telling me where she wanted her feet rubbed or ordering me to apply more pressure. I did everything I was told. It was actually the first foot massage I'd ever given, but I found the experience exciting and exhilarating. It was like a calling. I was finally where I belonged. Emilia looked at me through narrowed eyes while taking a sip of her wine. “I should have had you doing this for me a while ago. It feels so good.” I simply nodded my head in agreement and continued rubbing. The fact she implied I had no say in it only made me rub with further intensity. “How do they smell anyway?” She wiggled her socked toes right beneath my nose. “Take a deep breath. Don't be shy.” I sniffed loudly and that seemed to spur Emilia on. She put down her wine, and with an audible snigger she stretched forward and cupped her socked toes over my nose. “Sniff,” she urged while she ground her toes around my defenceless nostrils. I sensed she was experimenting. Testing me once again. Seeing what she could get away with. I took another deep breath and my eyes rolled back at the pungent intensity of Emilia's foot funk. My suffering prompted her to clap her hands in glee and squeak with delight, before grinding her socked feet against my face a final time. “Take my socks off,” she said abruptly and she sat up on to her elbows to get a better view. I peeled both of her socks down her ankles, noting that they appeared stuck to her skin from sweat. Once removed, I placed them delicately atop her sneakers. I'd barely turned back to face her before I felt her damp soles press against my face. She ground them forcibly against my skin and wiped the sweat from her soles all over my cheeks and forehead. I could have got up at any moment and told her to stop. I dwarfed her in size after all, but I didn't. I just knelt there and let her do it. And she did it to the point that it became awkward. It was awkward that I let it go on for so long without voicing any opposition. Instead, I wallowed in the shame of it all. I learned that there's something about letting another girl rub her sweaty feet in your face. It's a different level of humiliation and understanding. It speaks volumes between you; the fact you'll let her do it freely and get away with it. As her greasy soles slid up and down my cheeks, I caught peeks of her determined face. Her teeth were grit and her eyes focused. It was as if she was forcibly rubbing it into my face that I belonged right there. “You're so obedient when you're in the zone,” she said. “It's like a foot zone you go into. Your eyes glass over. Look at you, you're just letting me rub my feet all over your face. ” She exemplified her point by tracing a toe over my lips. “I wonder what else you'll let me do.” She was lost in thought for a moment, before a grin took over her face. “You know, I could shower before making you do what I'm about to, but I'm not going to. You get to appreciate my feet every day at their best, so you can clean them at their worst.” Emilia withdrew her feet from my face and rested them atop the footstool once gain. “Lick em,” she said with a smirk. “Lick all over them. Lick them clean. I want to see you slobbering all over my sweaty soles and stinky toes. Get to it.” She cocked her head slightly and watched with curiosity to see if I'd actually do it. I looked between her face and her sweaty feet multiple times before I made my decision. The rings of Emilia's laughter pinged my ears as my tongue made contact with the sole of her foot for the first time. I initially flinched at the acrid taste, but then with the second lick I knew I was hooked. I lost all control and mindlessly lapped at her soles, all the while she watched me with eyes wide and mouth aghast. She appeared to be in true disbelief that I would debase myself this way before her. My tongue greedily made its way between every toe, licking out the funk in between that she'd worked so hard at the gym to build up and swallowing it with satisfaction. I was like a beast possessed. Licking Emilia's feet opened up a whole other side of my personality and like a catalyst it unlocked a beast within her too. “Tell me you're my pedi girl,” she demanded. I ceased my licking in confusion, but with a second prompt from her and a kick to my cheek, I did as she wanted. “I'm your pedi girl,” I said. The words made me blush. “Tell me you're my foot licker,” she whispered. “I'm your foot licker,” I replied, almost robotic in my response, before returning my tongue to her foot. She cracked up in laughter. “Say you're Emilia's foot licker.” “I'm Emilia's foot licker.” I reddened at that one. Hearing it out loud really hit home. I busied myself with taking another lap at her sole to occupy my mind away from her taunts. The taste of her feet calmed and settled me somewhat. Emilia was far from settled. She was buzzing above me. I'd never seen her so excited over anything. She seemed to enjoy the extra humiliation of making me state out loud what I was doing and why. She grabbed my hair firmly in one hand and pulled me up on my knees at her side. She crossed one foot across the opposite knee and forced my face against her sole. With her other hand she held out her camera phone. She positioned our heads close together, and snapped photo after photo of the pair of us. Her face contorted and twisted amongst laughter and disgust, whilst mine was captivated in the throes of passion, my tongue dragging along her sweaty foot sole. “That's it. Lick it like you love it,” she said while posing us for another photo. “Kiss it.” Click. “Suck them.” Click. “Get your tongue in between.” Click. She held her ankle and twisted her toes into my mouth. And another photo was taken. She was almost an expert at it, and ever so flexible. She somehow squeezed both our faces and her foot into every photo. Not a detail was left out. She had evidence of everything. Me licking her sole, sucking her toes, and digging out the crud between them with my tongue. She even had one with her sock stuffed in my mouth while my eyes rolled back into my head, with her at my side giving a thumbs up. Throughout it all I didn't try to stop or fight it. I didn't have it in me. It was all so overbearing and her determination was relentless. I wasn't given a single opportunity to oppose her will. Emilia had completely tamed me with her feet and all thoughts of my dignity, both personal and professional had dissipated. “Say what you are again,” she said and I repeated that I was her foot licker, this time for what I assumed was a video. “Say you're Judge Foot Licker,” she ordered, camera held out and I did. Eventually it was all too much and I just sat there with my head resting against the sofa's cushion. Emilia still put her toes in my mouth for a few more photos, but my unresponsiveness seemed to stem her fun. She sensed my exhaustion and toned down her antics. She resumed her spot on the sofa and hugged her knees, pulling the elasticated hem of her sweater midway down her shins. Her bare feet rested on the footrest with her toes poking out off the edge. “Come,” she beckoned me. “Kiss my toes.” I conjured up some strength and crawled forward to place a peck on each of Emilia's toes, breathing in the stinky smell of her workout as I went along. Despite my tongue-cleaning, her scent was still both stifling and intoxicating. I struggled to escape its pull and went through each toe again for a second kiss. As my lips left her big toe, she pushed forward and I felt her toe enter my mouth and rest on my tongue. “Why are you letting me do this to you?” She mused, while slipping the big toe of her other foot in my mouth alongside the first. She parted her feet slightly and stretched my mouth open with her toes. It hurt, but I didn't stop her. “I mean, look at you. I can do this to you whenever I want, can't I? You don't even try and stop me.” I didn't answer her, not that I could with my mouth full and lips stretched. I merely closed my eyes in shame. “Open your eyes,” Emilia said. She held her phone up in front of my shamed face. “And hold still.” I did as ordered and let Emilia snap another humiliating photo for her collection. If any of these pictures ever got out I'd be ruined. My career would be a shambles and my marriage a wreck, but still, I couldn't stop her. Something inside me liked the unfairness of it all, letting Emilia do what she wanted just because she could; because of those feet. She giggled at how ridiculous I must have looked. “Imagine what everyone at work would say if they knew you were my personal toe sucker.” I blushed once again and felt my face burning up with shame. “Go on, suck them.” She said. “Show me what you are.” I sucked those toes like my life depended on it. I did it for two reasons. Firstly, because I wanted to; I loved the taste of Emilia's toes, especially that sweaty crevice between them. Secondly, I did it because Emilia wanted me to. She seemed to relish humiliating me at her feet and I liked seeing her giggle and laugh while tormenting me. Her sadistic enjoyment made worshipping her all the more intense. The more she put me in my place, the more obedient I became. It was a vicious circle. I only feared what depths she'd take it to. Her demeanour was almost scientific and watchful as she rolled her toes around, slipping a new one in my moist mouth and urging me to suck once more. Her expression would shift between disbelief and bemusement, seemingly amazed that I would let her treat me in this way. Paying for her pedicures was one thing, but this was a whole other level of depravity; one that I feared there was no way back from. “What would your husband think if he saw this?” She said while I bobbed upon her big toe with vigour. At those words I felt a renewed fight to resist; a sort of realisation of the depravity I was allowing to happen. I tried to pull away but Emilia was having none of it. She leant forward, grabbed a handful of my hair and held me securely in place, her toes safely nestled in my mouth. If anything, she only provoked me so she could enjoy suppressing my reluctance. I tried to speak, but she pushed her toes in just a little bit further to silence me. “Shh,” she said. “Just suck them like a good girl, you know you want to.” Her words were strategically chosen; encouraging and reassuring. I melted and sucked her toes like a content baby. She stroked my cheek in approval and parted her knees, leaning in so our faces were close. She knew she'd tamed me once again. “Look me in the eyes while you suck my toes,” she urged me, and I did, seeing nothing but satisfaction looking straight back at me. It was tough not to look away in shame, but I held her gaze; Emilia wanted to enjoy this moment to the full, and I was willing to let her. As I slowly moved my lips back and forth on her toe, maintaining eye contact as ordered, I saw deeper beyond her satisfaction. Those brown eyes looked at me with superiority, and I looked back into them with acceptance. We saw in each other a new understanding between us; that she was above me. I may be her superior in age, experience and wealth, but it was all irrelevant, because here I was sucking her toes. I suckled gently to let her know I understood; she merely smirked in response. The next day at work I felt a sense of dread as I waited for the court to clear. I;d lay awake in bed next to my husband all night, my face and mouth no doubt reeking of Emilia's foot sweat. All day Emilia had been flexing her feet in front of me, but she hadn't once mentioned what occurred the night before. Whereas I was nervous and on edge, Emilia seemed at ease. It was as if she had not a care in the world. Maybe she didn't; she wasn't a foot licker after all. What did she have to be ashamed of? I felt embarrassment every time I thought about it. Her subjugation of me had been intense and brutal. She'd steam-rolled through any resistance before I'd had the chance to fully understand what had happened and the consequences that may result. A lot of it was blurred in my memory. I'd been so weak and let her humiliate me so much, but it had felt right deep down inside. I was caught in two minds. What was clear was that I'd let this thing go way beyond the levels of acceptability between two people working together, especially with my highly respected position. And the photos, oh the photos. Why had I let her take such pictures of me like that? Of the two of us. She had documented every depth I'd sank to. “Emilia. I need to speak with you,” I said to her when we were finally alone. “What is it Judgey?” She smiled mischievously. I cringed at her calling me that in public. “Can we be serious for a moment please?” Her face softened. “Sure, what's up?” I felt a little more at ease by her reaction. “I'm a bit worried about what you're going to do with those photos. They could be a big problem for me if they got out.” “Relax,” she said. Emilia kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles. Her soles immediately drew me in, their texture so smooth and soft, blemish free with minimal sprinklings of wrinkles. She wiggled her toes seductively. “I'm not going to blackmail you or anything if that's what you're worried about. Look at you, do I really need to?” She waved one of her feet around and giggled as I followed it with my eyes. “I can get you to do whatever I want, whenever I want with these babies anyway. We both know that now.” “Will you show anyone?” She shrugged. “Probably not, but who knows? Maybe a friend or something, but it won't be anyone that will come back on you. You have my word on that. I'm not a bitch. I just took them for my own enjoyment. And the whole thing was a real hoot. As long as you fulfil your pedicure duties and be a good little foot girl for me when I need you; we're good Judgey.” I blushed at her words, though I felt optimistic that our secret was safe for now. Emilia took her phone from her handbag and opened the gallery, flicking through the countless humiliating photos she already had of me. I could have snatched it from her and smashed it to pieces, but in all likeliness, she'd backed them up somewhere. She stopped on one photo and held it up to me. “Quite a collection I'm building up of you, huh? This one's my favourite,” she said. The photo in question was one of me on my knees, eyes closed and licking her foot in sheer bliss. Her face was visible alongside me, contorted in laughter while she held me by my hair. Just one look at that and there was no doubt who was the one really in charge around here. I looked away in shame. What would the other judges think if they ever saw that? “Get your mouth on my feet right now,” Emilia suddenly said out of nowhere. “What? Here?” I asked in shock. I'd come to her to have a frank discussion, and here she was once again, ready to belittle me. Why did I let her get away with it? I looked around the court room. It was empty, but still, anyone could walk in and catch us. “Please, not here Emilia.” “Do it.” Refusing didn't seem an option at this stage. Even if she assured me that she wouldn't share the photos, the doubt still existed in my mind. I bent over the desk and wrapped my lips around a couple of her toes. They were awkwardly crammed into my mouth, but I wasn't going for elegance. I just hoped to appease her. The sooner she was satisfied, the sooner my public torment would end. “Look at me,” she said, and once I did, I heard that familiar click of her camera. “Good girl, that was perfect.” She kicked me away just as the janitor pushed his trolley into the courtroom and I pretended I'd dropped something on the floor. I figured that was the end of my humiliation with his interruption, but Emilia's foot appeared on the floor inches from my face. I looked up into those amused brown eyes and saw her mouth the word kiss. I did it quickly, placing a light peck upon the top of her foot, just above her purple toenails before the janitor reached us. Seemingly satisfied, Emilia placed the ball of her foot on my forehead and pushed me away. “Found it,” I lied. I pretended to put something in my pocket and made my way for the exit. “See you soon Judgey,” Emilia said after me in a raised voice. I cringed as I passed the janitor, his confused face making me wonder if he'd witnessed every detail. Days passed without seeing Emilia and her feet. By luck, she wasn't down to sit in a single one of my hearings; the other judges being the lucky ones to enjoy her presence. By Friday night I was feeling a bit depressed and desperate. On the one hand I loved Emilia's feet and it was tough to be away from them. Part of me also revelled in the way she treated me with them, but I was a proud woman. It hurt my pride to be such a success in my career, but a wimp when it came to her. I moped around the house when I wasn't at work and in Emilia's presence; a week away from her was a long time. My husband noticed, and we'd argued over my change in attitude. That was how I found myself upset and parked outside Emilia's apartment. I'd hesitated for half an hour about knocking her door. Eventually I found the courage. Emilia answered the door wearing nothing but an oversized night-shirt, panties and a pair of slouch socks. She yawned as she leant against the door-frame. “Hey Judgey,” she said. “What's up?” “Could I come in please?” Emilia rolled her eyes and wandered off into her apartment. I closed the door and followed. She was already sat on the sofa when I reached her. I dropped to my knees before her. It felt right and appropriate. “I miss you Emilia,” I whined. “I haven't seen your feet in over a week.” Emilia was surprisingly understanding and candid. She stroked my cheek with her thumb and wiped a tear away. “You're so needy,” she said encouragingly. “I know that's pathetic. I feel like a right loser sometimes. But that's what you and your feet do to me.” “Aww, but you're my loser.” I was actually a bit taken aback. I thought she'd be reassuring, but instead she only confirmed my fear, but in her own way. “You really think I'm a loser?” I said, aghast. I was on the verge of a flurry of tears again. “Don't beat yourself up about it. You're useful to me, right? How would my feet be all nice and pretty without you to take care of them? You don't just pay for my pedicures any more. You're my foot licker now too. You should take pride in that. It's not just anyone that gets to care for these feet.” I sniffled at her words. How tragic I was; a grown woman sobbing on her knees at a young girl's feet. “But, you could ruin me at any moment with all of those photos you have and the things I do for you. I just feel so overwhelmed. It's hard for me to deal with everything I've done. It's so wrong, but I know I can't say no to you. I can't resist your feet at all. Could you delete the photos at least so I feel a bit better? Please, Emilia?” Emilia rolled her eyes. “Oh, that again. I'm not deleting those photos, so stop going on about them. I like looking at them too much when I'm bored. Just accept they're mine. Even if I did delete them you'd just let me take some more, so what's the point? But I've already told you silly, I'm not going to ruin you or anything. Think about it. Why would I do that? Who's going to look after my feet if I don't have you? I'm intending to have you pay for my pedicures for a very long time. And I like that it's you, a judge at work that does it. You all think you're so high and mighty you see, and you need this to remind you you're not. You know I never even went to college? All of your expensive years of education and you're just my foot licker. The sooner you accept it and work out these little tantrums the better. You can't just show up at my apartment like this desperate and needy. I'm going to have to train you to come when you're summoned.” Despite the bluntness of her words, I found it hard to disagree with anything she was saying. Emilia's expression was sincere, and she patted the cushion at her side. “Tell you what, come over here,” she said. “I know what you need.” I tentatively sat next to her and watched as she pulled one of her slouch socks from her feet. With one hand placed on the back of my head, she held the sock against my nose. Our eyes met and she nodded her head ever so slightly while pursing her lips. “That's it, breathe in that stink.” My head dropped to rest on her shoulder as she began to delicately stroke my hair. With every breath I felt a little more content and relaxed, my worries seemingly disappearing. “That's a good girl,” she cooed. “That's my Judgey. Breathe in the smell of my feet and think about where you belong. You know this feels right, you love that smell don't you? Don't fight it, take a deep breath.” She rubbed the sock against my nose and I breathed loudly at her command. She gently patted the back of my head and urged me to sniff again and again. Whilst I did, she continued shaping my thinking. “What if everything in your life was just leading you to your true purpose: serving my feet. Without your career, you'd never have met me. So be proud of what you've achieved. That's the real reason you go to work every day now. That's your true responsibility; keeping my feet looking pretty. Don't forget that.” She was good, she knew exactly what to say. With the smell of her stinky stocks clouding my mind, her words were reassuring and just what I needed to hear. “Tell you what,” she said. “I know just what you need right now. You want to lick my feet while I watch my TV show? It starts in a few minutes.” “Yes please Emilia,” I mumbled without meeting her eye. “Then tomorrow, how about you come to the salon with me and watch me get my pedicure? Then maybe afterwards we can pick out a new pair of shoes for me. Sound good?” “Yes, Emilia.” I sniffled. And I knew Emilia's shoe purchaser had just been added to my list of responsibilities. “Okay, now come take off my other sock,” she said, while propping her feet on the footrest. “I'll let you do whatever you want to my feet, okay? You can slobber over them all you want,” she smiled. I began to peel off her other sock, eager to get my first taste of those feet in over a week. “But first tell me what you are,” she demanded. “I looked up at her and saw that she was filming me with her phone. My shoulders sagged and I accepted my fate. “I'm your foot licker, Emilia,” I said while blushing, right into the camera. “Aww, don't be ashamed,” she teased while wiggling her toes. “I'm not judging you, Judgey.” Humiliated, embarrassed and with a face redder than her nail polish, to the sound of Emilia's taunting laughter; I licked her feet like the hopeless foot licker I was.
  6. Respecting Maryam Reaps the Rewards I'd been determined to make it alone in the big city and for the first sixth months I'd plodded along just fine. Sure, making it alone actually meant that my parents had put a deposit down on a house, but they were more than happy to help out their only daughter. I'd taken out a mortgage for the remainder. Things had been a bit tight from the day I signed the contract, but it was manageable. I was proud to be a homeowner. I had a steady, reliable job as an administrative assistant at a law firm and the mortgage repayments, as well as my household bills, were mathematically within my means. On paper I could manage the bills, but I was hopeless when it came to organising my finances. Rather than put money aside for the mortgage every payday; I'd party it up on the weekends. My salary would disappear as I plundered it on alcohol and recreational drugs. Nothing too illegal or dangerous, just irresponsible more than anything. I justified it to myself that I was still young and deserved to have fun, despite already being into my 30's. I realise now that I was merely burying my head in the sand, rather than accepting my carelessness and doing something about it while I still could. My mortgage payments began to slip and before long I was in arrears. Letter after letter arrived in the mail declaring final notice and demanding payment. I managed to fend it off, bit by bit, delaying the inevitable by another month each time. Still, even though I was on the brink of losing the house, it didn't stop me hitting the booze. My worries seemed to dissipate when I was on the end of a bottle. The shit hit the fan when I was laid off from my job. Work had dried up and my employer simply couldn't keep me on. I begged and pleaded and explained my financial situation with my boss. She was sympathetic, and hooked me up with a role at another firm. I was relieved, but it was short-lived: the salary was a lot less. There was no way I could keep the mortgage payments up. With all of my partying and reckless spending I hadn't put any money aside. My savings currently read as zilch. I approached my parents for help but rather than understanding, they were furious. They were living off of their pensions and had put up their savings for my deposit. Unsurprisingly, our relationship completely broke down. Inevitably, I had to declare bankruptcy and the house was repossessed. I'd squandered close to £10k of my parents' money through the deposit, not including all of the payments I'd made myself. I lost pretty much everything. There I was, the latest victim of the housing bubble. The bailiffs gave me a week to find a new place to live before they would change the locks so the race was on. I barely kept my job, but with nowhere to live that would surely be on the line too. I needed that income if I was to stand any chance of finding a new place. I'd most likely have to turn my eye to a smaller apartment, or even settle for a houseshare. Anything was better than the unimaginable alternative; the streets. My next problem was that with my bankruptcy and appalling credit rating, none of the estate agents would go near me. Private landlords weren't any good either as they all wanted months of rent upfront as a deposit, which I simply couldn't afford. I tried advert after advert, but was turned away every time. I was losing hope as the week disappeared when a new advert appeared in the window of the local cornershop. It was for a small room, housesharing with the landlady. The price was the cheapest so far and I didn't hesitate to phone and arrange a viewing. I arrived at the house right on time. It was rather large and in a nice area of the city. No doubt the landlady was wealthy to own such a place. So I was most surprised when she answered the door. Before me stood a young, middle-eastern girl, barely over 5 feet tall and petite. I wondered if she was the landlady's daughter, but she shook my hand and invited me in. I figured immediately that she was Muslim as she wore a headscarf and her skin was a light brown. Perhaps a judgment on my part, but I was ignorant when it came to these sort of things. The house interior similarly had a middle-eastern feel to it. The décor, furniture and paintings gave off the vibe of Persia. It was all very clean and tidy and I suspected I stood no chance when it came to the room being offered. The girl introduced herself as Maryam and said that she was the sole owner. She invited me to the living area and I was offered some Turkish tea, which I drank with delight. “I haven't long lived here,” she explained, in a very noticeable Arabic accent. “I've just started a new job in the city and emigrated here from Iran.” “I'm amazed at the size of your house. What do you for a living if you don't mind me asking?” My voice was laced with envy. “I work as an investment banker, mostly dealing with commodities for corporate hedge-funds. I did quite well back home and was headhunted by one of the larger banks here. Their offer was too good to turn down, so here I am.” I tried to ham up the friendliness. “How do you like it here so far?” “It's a lot colder than back home.” She smiled and shook her head. “But I'm settling in just fine. It's a bit lonely though. That's why I thought it might be nice to have someone else around the house.” That explained the price she was asking; clearly she was new to this and money wasn't really a concern to her. She was only a couple of years younger than myself but seemed to have her life pretty together; especially in comparison to my own. It would be somewhat humiliating to have a young, well-off landlady. The fact she was an immigrant and successful -whereas I grew up here and was a failure- made it even worse in my eyes. But I was desperate, and I saw no alternative. She seemed polite and nice enough, so perhaps I could make it work. “Have you had much interest?” I asked. “You're the first woman that's replied. All of the others have been men, and that's not really what I'm looking for. I can't live alone here with a man, my parents wouldn't approve. I should have made that clear in the advertisement really.” “Well, I can assure you I'm not a man,” I joked. Maryam laughed and I took that as a good sign. I felt that I could be honest with her and I went through my whole situation. She nodded along and seemed sympathetic. She was a bit worried with my track record, but liked me an was willing to give me a chance. She had reservations, but we talked through them, eventually culminating in her offering me the room, but with conditions that she expected to be met. The rent had to be paid on time every month, there would be no partying in the house and no stumbling in drunk in the early hours. I really liked the room and especially the area the place was in, and for the price she was asking it was a bargain. My only concern was that I could see an immediate personality and culture clash. She laid out a lot of smaller rules that she expected to be followed. Most revolved around common decency and cleanliness. Cleaning dishes after they were used, respecting privacy and not making any loud noises after a certain hour. That sort of thing. It all sounded fairly standard, but once I settled, I knew I'd return to my heavy partying, it was simply in my blood. From first impressions it seemed that Maryam was the complete opposite and very strict. I reasoned that if I kept my partying away from the home environment then things could work out. I accepted her offer and had moved in within a couple of days. Over the next weeks I learned a fair bit about my landlady, Maryam. She was indeed of Persian descent and had spent her whole life in Iran up until the past few months. Her features were exotic and quietly enticing. She spoke with an Arabic accent, though her English was fluent and of a high standard. A devout Muslim, her religion appeared to be a very important aspect of her daily life and she prayed multiple times a day. However, she appeared to be a workaholic and spent most of her time at the office. The evenings she would usually spend relaxing, often catching up on Arabic soap operas or quietly reading a book. Maryam's clothes were traditional, yet stylish and fashionable. Her hair was always hidden beneath a headscarf, which she informed me was called a hijab. She owned many, colourful and stylish in their own right and always sitting in perfect harmony with her choice of traditional dress. From her brown complexion and dark eyebrows, I figured her hair to be black, though I'd never seen it. By comparison, my choice of clothes were plain and boring. My physique was average, my height gangly and my hair an unappealing rusty red. We looked quite an odd pair to be housesharing. I'd made an extra effort to be on my best behaviour the first few weeks, particularly as Maryam seemed very conservative. Despite the differences in our backgrounds, we got along fairly well and I found her easy to talk to. I learned that her family was traditional and her parents had been trying to match her with a husband for years. Maryam was independent however, and though she embraced the traditional values of her family, she wasn't ready to settle down. For now, her career was her most important passion and she appeared to be very successful. She took her work very seriously. She'd wear a more professional suit to the office, though the hijab was ever present. The suits usually led down to high heeled pumps, but at home, her attire was more comfortable; sandals or slippers were the favoured choice. Everything was going along just fine. I was up to date with my rent and had respected all of Maryam's rules. She seemed happy enough with me as her lodger. That was until I returned a bit worse for wear from a work's social. I'd spent about 5 minutes trying to unlock the door with my keys, then collapsed against the wall while taking off my boots. I was loud and careless, knocking a potted plant over in the hallway and spilling a glass of water up the stairs. Maryam was stood in her bedroom doorway waiting for me, arms folded across her chest and a look of disapproval upon her exquisite face. She looked even prettier when she was stern and serious. “What sort of time do you call this, Katie?” She asked. I tried to steady myself against the wall, but swayed from side to side. “Are you drunk?” Maryam added. “Maybe a little bit,” I giggled. “I don't think this is at all funny. This is no way for a lady to behave.” “Oh come on,” I slurred. “We're not all boring. Try having a bit of fun some time, you might like it.” Maryam's face didn't stir from disapproval. “I'm really annoyed with you Katie,” she said. “I thought I was very clear about the rules here and you're showing me nothing but disrespect.” “Okay, I'm sorry. Look, I promise it won't happen again.” I tried to straighten myself up on two feet. “I think you moving in here may have been a bad idea.” With the threat of being kicked out on the streets, I suddenly sobered up a bit. I was still absolutely wasted, but I knew I was messing things up.“I didn't mean to upset you. I do respect you and your rules, I swear!” “You have a strange way of showing it.” Perhaps it was due to the alcohol, but I reacted in a way completely out of character. Usually I'd tell someone that was scolding me to piss off, but with everything I'd been through and lost, I felt desperate for Maryam to forgive me and give me another chance. I dropped to my knees and threw myself at Maryam's feet, wrapping my arms around her ankles. “Please Maryam.” My cheek rested against the top of her foot and I instinctively kissed the instep of the other. It was more fueled by my drunk desperation. “Please don't make me leave. I'll behave.” I kissed again. Maryam just stood there with her arms crossed. She seemed a bit caught off guard and unsure of what to do. As a result, she just watched in silence and let me kiss her foot for a few seconds. I offered little pecks all over the tops of her feet and toes, hoping to inspire some sympathy within her through my begging display. Her feet were pretty, pedicured and well taken care of but her nails were nude and without polish. I noted that she wore a gold chain around her left ankle, which I'd previously never noticed. There was little odour to her feet as my nose brushed above, as she'd likely showered not long before. I wasn't really considering how pathetic I must have looked. My mind was distorted by the alcohol and self-preservation was all that mattered. If it took kissing up to Maryam to be forgiven, then that's what I'd do. Maryam cleared her throat after a couple of minutes. “I suppose that's one way of showing me respect,” she said. “But better you get some sleep now. We'll talk about this more in the morning.” She pulled her foot from my lips and left me alone on the landing. I didn't realise it at that point, but through my drunken actions a precedent had been set that night. The next morning I felt terrible. My mouth was dry and my head throbbed. My memory was a bit hazy and distorted. I'd see flashes but nothing was making much sense. “Feeling a bit rough are we?” Maryam said as she waltzed in to the kitchen. She opened cupboards, took out bowls and glasses, wiped down pans and put them away, all with loud bangs and crashes. Clearly she was doing it on purpose. “I'm sorry about last night,” I said. “You already apologised. Or don't you remember?” She stared at me intently and waited for a reaction. When the memory came back to me, I blushed at the recollection. I'd kissed her feet and begged her to stay. How humiliating. “Anyway,” Maryam said. She seemed to sense my embarrassment and didn't prolong it any longer than necessary. “Rent is due. Do you have it for me?” I rubbed my head and groaned. I'd spent way more than I'd meant to the night before. “I'm a little short. Could I maybe have another week?” Maryam stared at me blankly. She blinked in disbelief. “Are you serious?” “I'm sorry,” I said. I looked over Maryam's shoulder at the wall in shame. I couldn't bear to meet her eyes and see the disappointment. Her elbows came to rest on the table, and her hands formed a bridge beneath her chin. “Do you not have my rent because you drank it all last night?” “I guess so,” I mumbled. My head was still throbbing, my tummy felt dodgy and I wanted nothing more than to creep off back to bed. “I think I made myself pretty clear what would happen if you let me down. I gave you a chance Katie and this is how you repay me?” “Please, Maryam. I'm sorry. I really do feel awful. How can I make it up to you?” “Well,” Maryam spoke. Her lips moved like she was about to say something else, but she bit her tongue and held back. “No, it doesn't matter.” “Come on, tell me what I can do please. Anything. Whatever it takes.” Maryam slipped her feet from her slippers and placed them on the breakfast bar, crossing her legs at the ankles. “You can start by showing me a little respect,” she said. She looked towards her feet and wiggled her toes invitingly, then her eyes met my own. There was hesitancy in them for the first time, and I suspected she was out of her comfort zone. She broke eye contact and continued in a whisper. “Just like you did last night. If you want an extension, you'll have to convince me.” I knew what that meant. My head was still pounding, but I didn't want to be on the streets. I clambered across the breakfast bar and placed my lips on Maryam's foot. “Please could I have another week to pay the rent, Maryam?” I asked. I looked up at her from beneath her foot and tried to sway her with a pair of adorable, puppy dog eyes she couldn't refuse. She seemed lost in her own enjoyment. “That's much better,” she cooed. “That's the way to show me respect.” I continued to place delicate pecks along the sole of her foot, all while looking up and keeping eye contact. She was rather pretty the more I thought about it, and my kisses along her sensitive feet seemed to soften her sharp facial features. The hijab only heightened her exotic beauty too, like an air of mystery; an unobtainable Persian beauty. She examined me curiously, appearing to revel in my subservience. Perhaps it was somewhat fitting that a good for nothing scrub like myself should kiss the feet of this independent, successful woman. Or maybe I was doing my bit to make up for all of the prejudice she'd no doubt encountered over here; there were plenty of ignorant idiots around. All sorts of weird justifications crossed my mind. Whatever the reason, Maryam just sat there and watched while I kissed. Eventually Maryam tired of my grovelling, maybe she was just joshing with me after all, and giving me a hard time for being a drunken fool. “Fine,” she said. She withdrew her feet and slipped them back into her slippers. “I'll give you another week to get it together, but that's all you're getting. If this happens again, you'll be out.” I made a concerted effort for the next few months to behave. When I did go out with my friends and got drunk; I crashed at one of their houses to avoid Maryam having to suffer my drunken stupor. I barely kept up to date with my rent, but for the time being, I was surviving. I would still slip up and break Maryam's rules, usually by accident. When it happened, I'd get a lecture and then she'd demand I showed her some respect. We both knew what that meant; I'd have to drop down on my knees and kiss her feet all over until she was satisfied. This occurred during whatever she happened to be doing at the time. Preparing us dinner, watching one of her soaps, reading a book, and on one occasion straight after a yoga class, which was the stinkiest and most punishing of ordeals. I think in some ways she got a rush from it; being able to have a local, white girl drop and kiss her feet whenever she demanded. But she never explicitly expressed it in that way. It was always focused around me showing her the respect she deserved. And there was always a reason for it; some rule that I'd broken. She never demanded it of me at random. I could have stood up for myself and refused; I didn't actually like humbling myself at her feet. But Maryam had a way of making me feel guilty for breaking her rules, as if I'd severely wronged her and her hospitality. Her personality was confident and her attitude composed. Kissing her feet felt like the appropriate way to right my mistakes. For some reason I never refused, so she grew comfortable enough to demand it whenever she didn't feel respected, which seemed to be often. It wasn't long before I messed up majorly once again. I'd gone out with a few friends, after one had said I could crash at their place. Unfortunately, she had hooked up with a guy and forgotten all about little old me. Drunken and all alone in the cold, I was left no choice but to head back home. I hoped I'd make it to bed without being caught, but I should have known better. It wasn't as late as I first thought, and I disturbed Maryam with my drunken buffoonery while she was at prayer before she slept. To say she was not amused would be putting it lightly. “How dare you come home in this state,” she fumed, while rising from her prayer mat. She would use the living room to pray as it offered the most space. I hiccuped. “I'm not that drunk,” I slurred. Maryam stomped over to me and looked up at my glassy eyes. She lifted up on to her tip-toes and took a whiff of my breath. “That's it,” she said. “I want you out by next weekend. I've had enough of this. I let it slide before because it was a one-off, but I'm not allowing this to become a regular thing. I bet you've squandered away all my rent tonight haven't you?” I couldn't stop myself laughing at her overreaction. “Probably. Anyway, I'm really tired and worse for wear. Could I go to bed and we'll talk about this in the morning?” “No, you've really disrespected me tonight, and I want to talk about it now.” I knew the drill by this point. I dropped to my knees and slumped to a heap at Maryam's feet. Before she could react, my lips were planted against her foot. She was being extra strict tonight, but I figured she was testing me. I knew what she wanted. It was humiliating, but it seemed to work and got me out of trouble every time. I didn't like or dislike doing it either way, her feet were usually clean. It was just sort of demeaning, but since it worked, I'd do it. As long as none of my friends found out. Anyway, I figured Maryam secretly enjoyed it when I kissed her feet, perhaps it was an empowerment thing. “No,” Maryam said from above my hunkering form. She kicked my face away “That's not going to cut it this time.” Drat. I was going to have to ride out the scolding head on. With my usual fail-safe, foot-kissing rejected, I was clueless when it came to appeasing her. My hazy, tipsy mind wasn't helping matters either. I couldn't think straight. Rather than trying to rectify the situation, I sprung to my feet and confronted her head on. “Who do you think you are talking to me like that?” “Your landlady,” she said, in a tone that highlighted my stupidity. “And you've let me down again with your behaviour. Look what happened with your house; you're on the same downward path again. You may be older, but you're not mature enough to manage your own money without blowing it all on frivolous things. Every month it's the same story. You need some order in your life.” “I'll spend my money how ever I like.” I was feeling bold with the alcohol flowing through my veins. “Not at the expense of my rent you won't. I'm actually amazed at how irresponsible you are. I want you out this weekend.” For such a small, petite girl, her presence and forceful confidence was tough to keep up with. It suddenly dawned on me that Maryam was being very serious. “No, please, Maryam. I don't want that. There must be a way we can fix this. I'm sorry. It's my fault I know. I'm just useless when it comes to money.” “I've heard all this before Katie. You've had enough chances.” “Please, anything. Tell me what it'll take for you to let me stay.” Maryam paused and was lost in thought for a second. “The only way I'll let you stay is if I have complete control over your finances, as you simply cannot be trusted to manage them yourself. I'm not having you thinking you can live here without paying your due and acting how ever you like.” “No way,” I said. “I'm not letting you spend my money. It's mine.” “I never said anything about spending it,” Maryam said. She gave me a look of contempt at the accusation. “I'll simply manage it for you as if you were one of my clients. Every month you can give me your paycheck, I'll deduct your rent and the rest I'll lock away in my safe. You can keep a small amount for day to day things, but anytime you want more than an agreed amount; you'll have to discuss it with me first and I'll decide whether it's a legitimate expense.” “I'm not a child. Why should I let you tell me how I can spend my own money?” I was blown away by her arrogance. “You're right, you're not a child. So it's about time you stopped acting like one. You're a grown woman, and frankly your behaviour is embarrassing.” “If I agree to this, what's stopping you from just spending it yourself or keeping it?” “Look, we'll sign a contract beforehand which states I am acting on your behalf as your financial adviser and I'll keep a record of everything. Every single penny will be recorded. I'll basically be giving you my professional services for free; if anything you should be grateful for the offer. This is just what you need. At the end of the month, I'll invest what ever is left for you.” “I just don't know,” I said. “I'm still not comfortable with the idea. Why would you do this? What's in it for you?” “You're pitiful Katie, and I feel sorry for you. Annoyed that you're constantly letting me down and disrespecting me, yes, but I feel sorry for you too. I want to help before you throw your life away. This will actually be really good for you,” Maryam said. “How do you know what's good for me though?” “Look at yourself. You're in your 30's and what do you have to show for it? Don't your parents care that you're wasting away your life? You'd never get away with this in Iran.” “Well, we're not in Iran.” I spat back. “No, but you're in my house. And while you're in my house you will obey my rules. Else, you can be on your way. So it's just your choice Katie. Either you agree to my suggestion and together we can get rid of these detrimental vices, or you can find somewhere else to live.” It irked me to be spoken to in such a way by a younger girl, especially a Muslim immigrant that didn't shy away from sharing her dim, self-righteous critique of my lifestyle. What gave her the right to tell me how I should live my life? “This is asking too much Maryam.” “Let's just try it and see how it goes,” she said. “When's your next paycheck?” “Next week.” I felt stupid with what I was about to say next as it confirmed everything she'd stated. “Umm, I'll need another week to pay your rent.” “See. I'm not even surprised. Then next week I want you to bring me your paycheck and we'll start from there. We'll give it a month's trial, and if things don't go as I expect, then I'll admit I'm wrong and you can take your money and move out. But if I'm right, we'll look at making it a long term arrangement. ” The next week rolled around and Maryam was waiting in the living room when I came home from work. She was sat up straight in the leather armchair with her feet firmly planted on the ground. She must have had the day off, as she was wearing a traditional Persian dress, sparkly and brightly coloured. Encompassing her head was her usual hijab, this time with a striped pattern. Her sandaled feet peeked out from beneath the silver hem of the dress; toes unpolished as was the norm. Her attire further hit home with what I was about to do, as if she'd deliberately dressed for the occasion. I was about to hand over control over my finances to my younger Muslim landlady; an Iranian immigrant. It was humiliating that it had come to this. What a kick in the teeth for my proud country, that one of its daughters needed a foreigner to manage her life. If my friends knew I'd never live it down. “Do you have it?” Maryam asked. I handed Maryam an envelope filled with my month's salary. It didn't even occur to me to remove some prior to handing it over. No doubt she would have counted it out and busted me anyway. Maryam took the cash, then pushed her sandals out from beneath her dress. “Kiss them,” she said. “Why?” I asked. I was ready to hand over my paycheck and sign her stupid contract, why did I need to humiliate myself too? I did it before because I had to and there was something in it for me. This was just her being spiteful. “Because I want you to,” Maryam said. Her toes drummed impatiently within her sandals. “I want you to show me you respect me and accept this is for your own good.” I sighed, sank to my knees and kissed each of her feet as she demanded. Being on my knees at Maryam's feet had become too much of a regularity. At times I felt like I was never anywhere else. To top it all off, she made me sign the contract on the floor right there between her sandaled feet. And that was it. Control of my finances had been handed over to my younger, Persian landlady. That fact brought a smile to her face and a grimace to my own. I quickly learned that Maryam was successful at her job because she was no fool. She tolerated little waste when it came to money. I'd figured that this whole contract deal would be a token gesture, and I'd be able to have access to my money as I pleased. Sure, Maryam would feel she was symbolically in control, but she couldn't stop me from taking what I wanted. It was my money after all. The first time I approached Maryam for cash was a rude awakening. Two of my friends had organised a weekend girls' night to Blackpool and I'd been invited along. In total, it was a couple of hundred pounds plus spending money on top. I told Maryam with excitement about the trip and expected her to hand over the money and wish me a good time. Instead, her face soured at the request. “I don't think that's a good idea at all,” she said. “What a complete waste of money that will be.” “What?” I said in shock. “It'll be amazing. A weekend to remember.” “A weekend you'll forget with the amount of alcohol you'll be shoving down your throat. No, Katie, it's not happening.” I was lost in silence for a moment, shocked that she had the audacity to tell me what I could and could not do with my own money. Finally the words came to me. “What makes you think you can stop me?” “We had an agreement, remember? And I intend to stick to it, however much you don't like it.” “Give me the key to the safe.” I reached out to Maryam and grabbed at her wrist. “Lay one finger on me and you'll be out of this house before the day is over.” Her words were confident, precisely chosen and carried weight. I grunted in frustration and slammed the door on the way to my room. The rest of the night I spent alone, sulking and wondering what I'd gotten myself into. That episode was repeated day after day over the next week. I'd ask Maryam for money so I could go and party or have fun and she'd flatly refuse. There was no give in her will at all and the more I seemed to rant and rave, the stronger her resolve would be. Eventually I tried a new tactic. I'd asked for some money one morning over breakfast. A few of my work colleagues were heading out before the weekend and had organised a bar crawl. I explained to Maryam that it was a social function and I deserved to have a little fun after working hard all week; she flatly refused as usual. While Maryam ate her muesli, I slipped beneath the table and began delicately kissing her bare feet. I heard her sigh above, before continuing eating. She never told me to stop, so I took that as a good sign. I traced my lips all over her toes, applied mild suction to her heels, and pecked along her arches. After a few minutes, I rose to my knees at Maryam's side and looked her in the eye. “With respect, Maryam, may I ask for a little money to enjoy myself tonight?” Maryam huffed, rolled her eyes and dropped her spoon in her cereal bowl. My groveling had worked but her response was to give me merely £20 of my money. I pleaded with her, explaining that it would barely last me two hours, but she was unmoved, stating that it was more than enough to have a good time and I should be grateful for it. When I started to argue and demand more, Maryam simply reminded me of our agreement and informed me I was welcome to take more money, but I should pack my bags too. I left for work that morning with the single £20 note in my purse. It was better than nothing I supposed. Unsurprisingly, I was home before 10pm that evening. My work colleagues thought I was a killjoy and carried on without me. I was borderline sober and bitter. Here I was at home on a Friday night and the party was carrying on without me. Maryam was on the sofa with her legs curled beneath her when I walked in. She looked up from the book she was reading. “You're back early,” she stated. I noted her mouth curled in the tiniest of smirks. “Well, I ran out of money,” I said while flopping down on the armchair opposite her. “I didn't have much of a choice. £20 isn't going to last long, is it?” “That's too bad, but at least you haven't come home in a state.” Maryam smiled, before returning her attention to her book. I fidgeted awkwardly in the chair. Truth be told, the night had ended prematurely, thanks to Maryam putting a limit on my funds. I felt like a child with an allowance. “My friends are still out partying,” I said. I avoided looking in Maryam's direction and focused my attention on the fireplace. “I was wondering if maybe I could have a bit more of my money and go out for a bit longer?” “I don't think that's a good idea, Katie,” Maryam said. Her attention never left her book. I wasn't drunk, but I'd had a few drinks and my inhibitions had been lowered. I'd tried to be respectful with Maryam since our arrangement had began, but my frustration had grown with her persistent strict control. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?” I said. Maryam looked up curiously from her book and raised her eyebrow. She didn't seem to lose any composure at my outburst. “Do you think talking to me like that is how to get your way?” “It's just, this isn't fair. It's my money and I should be able to spend it how I want.” My voice was more like a whine than the authoritative tone I was going for. “We've already established that you can't be trusted to do that, haven't we Katie?” Maryam always sounded so confident and assured. Despite being older than her, she always made me feel younger. “Could you at least think about it before you say no?” Maryam uncurled her legs from beneath her and stretched them out on the sofa. “Alright, that seems only fair. You can rub my feet while I think it over, then when I'm nice and relaxed you can politely ask me again and apologise for what you just called me. I'm not saying I'll say yes, but if you show me the proper respect, it might help your chances.” I'd already signed the paperwork, but I resented the control she had over me now my finances were in her hands. I believed her when she said she wouldn't steal from me, but I hadn't considered how she could control me by restricting my access to the bare minimum. I was a lot more pliable and obedient when desperate; perhaps that had been her motive all along. I sighed and knelt at the end of the sofa. While Maryam continued to read her book, I diligently massaged the soles of her feet. She had me right where she wanted me. Instead of out partying, I was spending my Friday night as her personal foot masseuse. After a half hour had passed of rubbing Maryam's feet. I figured enough time had passed to politely ask for what I wanted. I focused on her toes while I tentatively inquired. “I'm sorry for calling you a bitch Maryam. Please may I have a bit more money and join my friends?” Maryam settled back into the couch, and placed a cushion beneath her head. She turned the page of her book while simultaneously switching the foot in my hands. “I just don't know. I could let you go have your fun I suppose.” She closed her eyes as I applied extra pressure with my thumbs to her sole after hearing those hopeful words. “But I want you to help me move the furniture around tomorrow morning, and I know there will be no chance of that if you're hungover.” “Please ma'am,” I said while caressing the bottom of her foot. I figured she'd be happy if I addressed her in a more respectful manner. I leant forward and placed a kiss upon her sole, hoping that may help since she seemed to enjoy it. “I promise I won't stay out too late or get really drunk.” “Well,” Maryam said as I kissed her foot again. “You are being quite respectful right now.” I perked up at her praise. Maryam smiled. I suspected she liked seeing me suck up to her. It was probably quite a kick for her to have a local English girl at her feet. “Just keep rubbing while I think about it,” she said. She shifted on the couch and rested her other foot on my shoulder. “You need to start trusting that I know what's best for you. ” I continued to rub Maryam's feet in earnest, while occasionally offering a sporadic kiss, hoping to satisfy her and get what I wanted. It was taking a lot longer than I expected though, and with one eye on the clock above the fireplace, I noted the minutes were ticking away. Maryam appeared entirely engrossed in her book, barely offering me any acknowledgment as I slaved away at her feet. Before long an hour had passed and closing time at the bar was nearing. “So, can I get a bit more money then? The bar will be closed soon,” I asked. My hands were still wrapped around Maryam's tiny foot. My fingers had long ago began to ache, but I had fought through it. Maryam looked up from her book and glanced at the clock. “Sorry, that felt so good I completely lost track of the time.” She threw her book down on the table and stretched out. “It's probably too late for you to be going out now isn't it?” I wanted to throw her stupid book at her. She'd wasted almost two hours of my night mulling over whether I was going to get any more money. She could have just outright said no in the first place, not dangled a carrot in front of me so I'd rub her feet in hope. Maryam sat up and swung her legs around, so I was knelt between them. “What's wrong?” She asked. She looked down at me and raised her eyebrows at my silence. I was within my rights to voice my discontent, but I knew that would only result in me getting less money next time, if anything at all. It was quite a pickle I found myself in, but at least it would be over after the month's trial. “Nothing, Maryam,” I said. I was weak, so weak. I felt like such a putz. I couldn't hold her gaze as her eyes screamed victory. “Good.” She patted me on the head. “You've been a really good girl tonight. I'm proud of you. Get yourself to sleep and we can get started on the furniture nice and early tomorrow.” The rest of the month went the same way. By the fourth weekend, I didn't even bother to ask Maryam for money to go out drinking. She'd been very strict with my allowance. Other than for essentials such as food and transport, most of my requests were turned down on the grounds that they were spurious wants. I was allowed some money for entertainment, but it was restricted so that I wouldn't overindulge and step out of line. I was growing tired of having to ask Maryam for permission all of the time, just for simple things such as money to meet up with my friends. When my second paycheck came through, I was reluctant to hand it over to Maryam. I wanted the trial to be over as it had been an abject failure in my eyes. Surprisingly, she understood my opposition and was willing to talk it over. “I promised you a month's trial and I'm going to honour my word. I can tell you're not happy and you've found the last month tough, but I want you to think about what it was like for you before. You lost everything because of your irresponsibility. Do you want to go back to that?” “No, but I don't want to have no life either.” “You have a life. You've just been living within your means and in moderation this month. Of course there will be a sticking period because you're so used to getting your own way and living recklessly.” “But what's the point if I'm miserable all the time?” “Look at this,” Maryam said. She removed an envelope from her purse and placed it on the table between us. “This should cheer you up.” “What's that?” I asked. My tone was impatient and unimpressed. Maryam smiled and fished a wad of £20 notes from the envelope. She counted them out into a pile one by one. “You have almost £400 left this month. Does that surprise you?” “Really?” I was actually in shock. Perhaps having Maryam in charge of my finances wasn't such a bad thing after all. I never saved money, ever. I spent every paycheck partying it up on the weekends. “Really. I'm proud of you Katie. You've done really well and this was only the first month where you were going through an adjustment period. Imagine how much you'll save when you're all settled and more willing to follow my advice. I'm putting most of that into an investment for you. Over time I'll build up a portfolio in your name. And, since you've been so good, you can have a little bit to enjoy yourself tonight.” At that offer I perked up. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. I usually felt regret after an expensive night of partying. At least in this way, I'd sort of earned it. “Look, it's all here.” Maryam slipped me a sheet of paper across the table and pointed at various parts. “There's your income. Here's an itemised record of all of your expenses and this right here is your surplus, disposable income.” “Right.” I looked it all over and it seemed to check out. Everything had been noted down. “Of course, thanks to me, you haven't disposed of any of it, but rather saved it. Look, I know it's been tough at times and you've been frustrated. But look what you've achieved. It was all worth it in the end wasn't it?” “I suppose so,” I said. “Are you ready to admit I was right about this then?” “Yes. You were right about this, Maryam.” “Ma'am,” she corrected. She had knowing smile on her face and I knew she was teasing me. I looked at the floor and went with it. “Yes, ma'am. You were right.” “Good, but I want you to say it while you kiss my feet,” she said. There was a playful smile on her face, but she wasn't making any moves to suggest her demand wasn't serious. “Like you've been doing to show me respect. But this time I want you to thank me for helping you while you do it. Since I'm not charging you for my professional services; I think it's only fair.” I knew she enjoyed it when I kissed her feet, that much was now clearly evident. I did as she wished and kissed her pretty feet profusely. “You were right ma'am, and thank you for helping me.” “I'm really enjoying you showing me respect like this.” She wiggled her toes beneath my lips. “I think this'll be a little ritual at the end of every month. You can thank me for all I've done for you, then present the next month's paycheck to me. I deserve your gratitude for what I've done for you after all.” “If that's what you want,” I said between kisses. “So, are we agreed that this arrangement is going to continue from now on? You're happy for me to manage your finances?” “Yes, for the time being.” “Good, but there's one more thing,” Maryam said. She held up a small key between her manicured fingers. “This is the key to the safe upstairs. I'm going to hold on to it. In fact, I'm going to wear it on my anklet so you can see it all the time and be reminded of who is in charge of your finances from now on.” I stopped my groveling and sat up. “Is there really any need for that?” I moaned. For once, Maryam let her laughter get the better of her. It wasn't often that her cool, professional exterior gave way. “Probably not, but it just felt fitting and the idea amused me.” I was feeling quite defensive at her taunting. “You don't have to laud it over me, you know? I appreciate you helping me and all. I'm even willing to let you boss me around if it's for my own good, but you don't have to tease and humiliate me in the process.” Maryam bit her lip and her eyes narrowed. She cocked her head slightly and looked me over through her analytical eyes. “No, look at you now; placid and reasonable. Humbling you is an effective way of keeping you in line. It's for your own good. I'll be wearing your key on my anklet, that's for sure.” And she did. The key jingled around on Maryam's anklet every time she walked around the house. She even wore it to work so that I couldn't sneakily access the safe while she was gone. It tormented me, but she was right, that key constantly reminded me that Maryam was the boss and in control. “There's something I wanted to ask you, ma'am.” I said to Maryam one weekend. She was busy working on her laptop computer and usually didn't like to be disturbed. “What is it?” She said, while never wavering her attention from the screen. “I need a little money for mother's day. I want to get my mother something nice.” With my head a lot clearer since I'd ditched the booze, I'd been thinking a lot about my parents and mending our relationship. “You know how to ask respectfully,” Maryam said nonchalantly. She continued to tap away on her laptop without looking up. By this point I was well trained and knew exactly how to ask Maryam for something. Seconds later my lips were on her feet. While I kissed her toes, the key on her anklet dangled right before my eyes. I could rip it straight off, push her aside and take everything in the safe. Maryam wouldn't be able to stop me physically, I was much larger and stronger. But something else stopped me. I knew deep inside somewhere that I needed Maryam's control. I just couldn't be trusted with my own money. Without Maryam's watchful eye, I'd have already spent the money on alcohol and drugs. This way, it was guaranteed it would be going on my mother's present. I gave her foot one final lingering kiss. “Please may I have some money for my mother's present, ma'am?” “Of course,” Maryam said while leaning down to clip the key from her anklet. “But I'll need to see receipts, okay?” “That won't be a problem.” Something crossed my mind as my eyes lingered on her toes. “How come you never paint your nails? Your toes would look so pretty with some polish.” “I did used to, but it's too much of a hassle. I have to remove it every time I pray and reapplying it all the time just became too much of a bother.” “I could do it for you,” I offered. I didn't really consider what I was offering. I meant it more as a one-off treat, but Maryam misinterpreted my intention. “I pray 5 times a day silly,” she said with a chuckle. “You'd be committing yourself to an awful lot of work. Maybe I'll just let you paint them before our monthly ritual.” “Sorry, I was just thinking aloud.” I looked up at her from my kneeling position and smiled. Maryam pat my head affectionately. “It's okay dear, it was a cute idea, but it wouldn't work. You could help me wash my feet before my prayers though? Now, that I would find useful. What better way is there to show you respect me as a Muslim woman than to help me prepare for prayer?” “Umm, well, I guess I could.” I was a little perplexed by the escalation. “I'll be praying soon actually. Why don't you fill up a bowl with some warm water and wait for me in the living room. I'll get your money for your mother's present and then we'll get started. I think £30 is enough for something nice and a card?” “Perfect, ma'am,” I said. Maryam closed her laptop and scampered off upstairs, almost excitedly. I made my way to the kitchen and filled a bowl with some soapy water at a warm temperature; hot enough to soothe but not singe. I took it to the living room and placed it at the foot of her armchair. I heard Maryam fidgeting around upstairs, and waited patiently on my knees. When Maryam returned, she took her seat and I helped her feet into the bowl. I spent a few minutes massaging her soles and toes beneath the water, and soothing her skin with soft, watery caresses. She looked on with approval, but let me do all of the work. I even had to lift her feet from the bowl and dry them with a towel. She intended for the whole ceremony to be my lone responsibility. Once her feet were dry, I left Maryam alone to pray. It felt intrusive to linger while she was at prayer. I knew how important to her religion was, and having rudely interrupted her at prayer in the past, I didn't wish to repeat the insult. Maryam must have enjoyed my foot-washing service and found it a convenience, as it became a regular expected responsibility of mine from that point forward. She didn't expect me to share her beliefs or attempt to force them on me, but in this way, I was able to show I respected them. As promised, at the close of the month, Maryam let me paint her toenails ready for the presenting of my paycheck ritual. By this point, I had no qualms handing it over. It wasn't as if I was giving it away; it was all still my money. Maryam just controlled my access to it. I knelt and applied the polish with precision, while Maryam sat above me in the armchair and watched one of her Arabic TV serials. I couldn't understand a word that was being said on screen, so I wasn't at all distracted from my task. Her feet rested regally on an antique Persian footstool while I diligently painted one toe after another. Maryam would routinely check on my progress and insist I repaint a nail if it wasn't to her standard. As with everything, Maryam's standards were high and she expected her wishes to be respected. When I was finished, Maryam paused the TV and surveyed my work with a pleased grin, showing off the perfect whiteness of her teeth. Teeth that contrasted smoothly with her light, chocolatey skin. She opened a file that she'd had ready on the armrest. “You'll be happy to know that once again I'm pleased with you this month.” She narrowed her eyes and looked more intently at the file, flicking back through a few of the pages “Actually, I think you've done even better than last month now I look at it. £550 you have left over. That's nigh on 50% of your take home salary. When you subtract your rent, you've spent hardly anything this month. But also, you've hardly hassled me for extras too. I think you've turned a corner. You should be proud of yourself, Katie.” I felt my face reddening. I actually was proud. Never in my life had I been left with that amount of money at the end of the month. At this rate, I'd be on the verge of paying my parents back the deposit I'd lost them within two years, something I'd thought was impossible. “This is just the start too,” Maryam said while offering me a huge smile. “Your investment is already performing well and seeing a return. I'll add this to your portfolio.” I was lost for a moment as I imagined how proud my parents would be. Maryam brought my daydream to an end. “Well? Do you have something you'd like to say?” “Thank you Maryam. Truly. I'm really grateful. You're actually turning my life around for the better.” “I'm glad you're finally seeing that. Now, show me how much respect you have for me.” By this stage, Maryam didn't hide how much she loved seeing me show her the respect she deserved. She never seemed to tire of my English lips on her Iranian feet. Perhaps it was a status thing for her. I kissed all over her dainty, pretty feet, just as she wanted. The red toenail polish only made me kiss all the more devotedly. Maryam sighed in satisfaction. She must have felt complete; worshipped, adored and most of all respected. She lifted her toes up until only her heels rested on the footstool. “Do you have your paycheck?” She asked. “Yes, ma'am,” I said, while leaning over to my purse on the table. “Place it beneath my feet,” she ordered, and once I did, she lowered her toes. There was something about seeing the pile of notes of my paycheck beneath Maryam's pedicured toes. It illustrated the dominance she now seemed to have over me. I leant forward and kissed the tops of her toes again, breathing in the papery scent of the cash, a mere inche below. I peeked up from my bowing position and caught Maryam's brown eyes intently watching, sandwiched between the folds of her hijab. I felt overwhelmed by the whole situation. Freely handing my cash over to this Muslim immigrant while kissing her feet and thanking her made me tingle all over. She'd been strategically training my mind for months to accept her authority and superior financial intellect, and finally, all resistance had evaporated. I was overcome by Maryam's control over me and felt compelled to show her I accepted it. I slipped her big toe into my mouth and sucked adoringly. Maryam immediately retracted her foot and sat upright. “What are you doing?” She said. I suddenly felt quite exposed and embarrassed. I'd acted in the moment without really considering what I was doing. This was beyond showing her respect, it was almost a lesbian come on. I immediately felt embarrassed and blushed. “I'm sorry,” I said. “I don't know what came over me.” “Well it felt nice,” she said. “But I think it's a bit inappropriate.” “I just thought it was another way to show you the respect you deserve.” She stroked my cheek with the sole of her foot and tickled my ear with her toe. “I'm pleased you're thinking of new ways to show me respect, but I think in this case it goes beyond that. It's more sexual than showing me my worth. You know what I think about sexual promiscuity outside marriage, don't you? I don't want you falling back into your bad habits.” “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cross that line.” “It's okay dear. I think I know why you thought it was a good idea. We have grown really close this year, and the trust has built between us. If you're wanting to be more intimate with me to show your respect, I have an idea.” At that, Maryam reached up and removed the pins from her hijab. She unraveled the fabric and let her hair fall freely around her shoulders. As I'd envisioned many a time, the strands were as dark as her eyebrows and much longer than I'd expected, reaching down past her breasts. I was surprised by just how much hair she could conceal beneath her headscarf. The way the black locks framed her face seemed to bring out the delicate softness of her brown skin even further. Her beauty took on a whole new level. I was mesmerised by this Iranian goddess. Seeing her in her full womanly form caught me off guard. It had been months, and this was the very first time she had allowed me the privilege of seeing her without her hijab. She noted my shock and softly giggled. “Go fetch my hairbrush,” she said. She ran her fingers through a few strands of hair and twisted the ends between the tips. “You can brush my hair while I finish watching my show.” One weekend I joined Maryam at the grocery store to do the shopping. She was a skilled cook and preferred to buy everything fresh. She usually went alone but on this occasion I'd decided to follow along since Maryam had promised that she'd teach me a bit about cooking. I'd survived on tinned spaghetti and ready meals when living alone, but in Maryam's home I'd never eaten better. She liked to cook for us both and show off her culinary skills. In return I'd always do the washing up. We went from aisle to aisle, filling the trolley with various items while Maryam sounded off meals they would suit. She led the way, a few steps in front, plucking items from the shelves while I followed close behind with the trolley. We'd just entered the condiment aisle when I heard a voice from behind me. “Where have you been lately?” The voice said. I immediately recognised who it was; Jessica, an old drinking buddy of mine. With Maryam's nurturing I'd gradually curbed my drinking to the point I barely saw some of my old friends. Friends I now knew were leading me astray. Jessica had been at the top of that list. She'd never been the same with me since I'd blown off the trip to Blackpool. If she'd known it was at Maryam's insistence, it could have lead to trouble. If she'd known I'd blown her off countless times since: to massage Maryam's feet, brush Maryam's hair and place my paycheck at Maryam's feet, I'd never hear the end of it. I'd be readily mocked by the devotion I seemingly had for my Muslim landlady. Friendliness seemed the best option. “Hey Jess. Sorry, I've just been so busy lately. I haven't had time to get with you guys. How's the others doing?” I tried to be civil, but I could tell Jessica wasn't listening. Jessica was a heavy smoker and drinker. Tattoos lined the length of her arms and her hair was slicked back and braided into a ponytail. Her personality was forceful and upfront, and I feared she'd say something offensive. It didn't take long for that to happen. She seemed to pay my explanation no mind, and instead directed her attention to Maryam. “Why are you hanging around with that Muslim cow?” Jessica asked, before I could steer the conversation elsewhere. I cringed at her words, especially as I feared Maryam was within earshot. Even phrased as a question it was obviously an insult. I saw Maryam pause as she took a jar of honey from the shelf, and turn her head slightly as if to listen for my reaction. Of course, her face was obscured behind her hijab so there was no inkling of her expression. Regardless, I feared the worst. I had an opportunity to stand up for both myself and Maryam. All I had to do was tell Jessica she was being rude and demand she apologise. I could prove to Maryam once and for all that she had my respect and I was a changed person. I failed miserably. Instead of putting Jessica right, I merely shrugged my shoulders. Jessica shook her head in disgust and trotted off towards the booze aisle. Maryam didn't say a word for the rest of the shopping trip, or while she drove us home. When we arrived, we both carted the shopping bags inside in silence, then Maryam put everything away while I hid in my room. I felt awful for what Jessica had said, but worse for saying nothing in return. Maryam hadn't said anything, but if she'd heard as I feared; there would be repercussions. After a few hours, she called out my name and summoned me to the living room. She was sat with her bare feet propped up and I assumed she wanted them massaged. I was somewhat relieved she wasn't going to grill me over the grocery store incident. I was wrong. “Lick the bottoms of my feet,” Maryam said. She folded her arms across her breasts and looked at me sternly. “Lick them?” I shuddered at the thought. Kissing them was one thing, but licking was totally demeaning. Also, how was sucking her toes wrong, but licking her feet okay? “Yes,” she said. Her face looked more determined than ever. “Lick my sweaty feet and show me some respect.” I was lost for words and unsure how to react. Maryam's stare was intense, and I felt compelled to obey her. I dropped to my knees and tentatively reached out my tongue until it made contact with the ball of her foot. Then closing my eyes, I winced and dragged the tip along the length of her sole. “Why didn't you correct that vulgar woman at the grocery store today? You think it's okay for your friends to talk about me like that?” I looked up into Maryam's eyes as my tongue ran along the length of her sole once again. From the intensity of her stare it was clear that she was annoyed. Even with her eyebrows screwed up in anger she looked lovely. I wish I was looking at her pretty face surrounded by her hair, as opposed to the hijab. “What is it with the women in this country?” Maryam said. She pushed her foot against my mouth and I licked further intently. “You walk around wearing next to nothing. You inebriate yourselves to the point of unconsciousness. Where is your class? I work hard, follow your laws, and treat people with dignity, yet I get nothing but disrespect in return. You think it's okay to mock my accent and insult my hijab?” Maryam seemed to be vexing. Just talking aloud and venting her frustrations. I appeased her anger by licking her soles and toes in silence. It didn't seem like my place to speak up and interrupt. Licking her feet was demeaning, but I felt bad for what had happened at the grocery store. Despite my reservations, I felt somewhat obligated to do as she said. I alternated between short delicate licks of her toes and long laps of her soles. I even slipped my tongue between her toes and dug into the crevices. Her feet gave off a light taste of salty sweat which I readily ate up. She seemed to have no problem with my tongue licking all over her toes, strange considering her opposition to my sucking of them. Perhaps she was too distracted by the insult she'd suffered to realise or to notice her hypocrisy; professing to treat people with dignity while making me lick her feet. “Well, next time you see your friend you can tell her that not only do you hang around with a Muslim cow, but you lick her feet too.” Maryam sneered down at me as I tongued her soles. Usually I'd see disappointment in her eyes when I'd done something she didn't like, but this was pure anger. It seemed Jessica had really riled her and she was taking it out on me. It was a side to Maryam I didn't like; a step too far. I averted my eyes and blushed at her words. I mean, she was only offering a commentary on exactly what was happening right now, but it made the absurdity of the situation really hit home when she said it aloud. I'd never licked anyone's feet before in my life. I found the idea entirely demeaning and disgusting. Yet here I was, willingly licking my Muslim landlady's feet to make up for something I didn't even say. I hadn't even agreed with Jessica, but I was the one paying the price for Maryam being disrespected. “I'm sorry,” she suddenly said. Her eyes betrayed her regret. “I crossed the line a bit there. I'm just disappointed that you didn't have the backbone to defend me, Katie.” I felt it best to just continue massaging Maryam's foot with the tip of my tongue, while her mood simmered down. She had done a lot for me, and I'd repaid her by letting my friend get away with disrespecting her in public. I felt awful. Maryam seemed to settle and ease up at the ministrations of my licking. She bounced her toes against my tongue in a more playful action. “I don't dislike you Katie and I don't make you do these things to be mean. You just need humbling once in a while, and put in your place. I'm the head of this house, and you need to respect that. I thought we were really making progress in getting your act together. If I let you step out of line, even the smallest amount, you'll be straight back down that road to the bottom you seem so intent on following. You know all of this is with the best intentions, right? ” “I do Maryam,” I said. I took an extra-long lick of her sole, from heel to toe. “I respect you as a Muslim woman. I'm sorry for my friend's behaviour, and I'm sorry for not correcting her.” “It's okay Katie,” she said. She dragged her foot along my outstretched tongue one more time. “I accept your apology, but don't let it happen again.” And I didn't. I learned another lesson in respecting Maryam that day. Before long, a year had passed. We were close. Maryam was confident and in control. Whereas I was submissive and attentive. I listened to her advice and followed her superior decision-making. Month after month I watched my capital rise under Maryam's stewardship. To celebrate the anniversary of our year living together, she'd cooked us a lovely Persian meal. After we'd finished eating, Maryam's tone turned serious. “Well, your tenancy is up,” she said. “The last 12 months have flown by, don't you think?” The whole experience of living with Maryam had been a bit of a whirlwind. I'd done and said things I'd never thought possible of myself. Behaved in ways I didn't realise my personality was capable of. Maryam had brought that out in me. I nodded at her respectfully. She rose from her seat, gave me a hug, kissed my forehead, then retreated slightly and looked into my eyes. “I'm so proud of you,” she said. She ruffled my hair. “You've grown up a lot and come such a long way. I'm proud of my little project.” She was controlling and strict, but she wasn't a tyrant. “Thank you for everything,” I said. “It's been a life-changing year, in more ways than one.” I'd long ago adopted an open and honest dialogue with her. “Your portfolio is just under £10k currently, and rising.” She slipped a file across the dinner table. “It's all in there, broken down and fairly easy to follow.” I glanced over the file, but I didn't need to look with much scrutiny; Maryam knew her stuff when it came to numbers. “I also have this for you too,” she said. She passed me another file. “It's a new tenancy agreement, this time for 2 years. You have a choice. I can cash in your investments and we can part ways. All of that money is yours and you can do with it what you please. If you do, I'm hoping that you'll be sensible with it.” “What's the other option?” I asked. It didn't occur to me that I'd brushed off the first option so readily. “You sign the new agreement and we continue as we've been going for another two years. I know that I can return a high yield on your investment. Things are only going to get better for you if you stick with me.” I thought things over. I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in months. My partaking in the drug scene was but a distant memory. I was more energetic, determined and full of life. Even the partners at the law firm had commented on my improved attitude and work ethic, leading to a pay rise. My relationship with my parents was back on and I'd saved more money in the past year than I had in my entire life previously. And all of it had been thanks to Maryam. Sure, I had to kiss and lick her feet once in a while, and generally do as she said, but she did as much for me in return. There was no doubt in my mind that I was staying with her. Who knew where it would lead and how much wealth I would acquire with Maryam controlling every aspect of my finances for the forseeable future? I trusted her, and I would do whatever she deemed best for me. I signed the tenancy agreement and handed it to my landlady; my overseer. “Are you sure?” Maryam asked. She slipped her dainty foot from her sandal and offered it in my direction. Her pedicured toes looked so pretty; her nails gleaming a ruby red. “I got a pedicure to celebrate. Why don't you seal the deal with a kiss?” Did she know this is what I was going to choose? I hopped from my stool, knelt and kissed all over that beautiful, dominant foot. The foot that had turned my life around. For the better. “You'll be happy to know my parents will be visiting us soon. They're keen to see how I'm getting on over here. I'm sure you'll show my mother the same respect you show me, right?” I momentarily paused in my kissing to tell her what she wanted to hear. “Yes, ma'am, of course.” I'd seen photos of her mother and knew that she was a lot more conservative than Maryam, preferring to wear a niqab instead of a hijab. Respecting her would be a whole new experience in itself. “And I think it would be a good idea to invite your parents at some point,” Maryam continued. “I think they'll be impressed with how I've whipped you into shape. They might even suggest you convert,” she teased. I balked at that, but knew better than to voice my reservations. “Fetch a bowl of water,” Maryam said while she turned on her heel, leaving me prone on my knees in the kitchen kissing the air where her foot had just been. She called out from the living room. “I need you to remove this nail polish before I pray.”
  7. from an old yahoo "experiences" group - though I'd share it. The Unaware Cuckold. I was around 18. Summer vacation just started, so 3 months of play! My friend that lived down the street was only gonna be in town for a week then leave to his grandparents. So I spent most of my time at his house playing Mortal Kombat and whatnot. Few months before I also started going to the gym, and was getting pretty buff. My buddy's mom, Carmen, was a drop dead gorgeous woman. She was in her late 30s, about 5.7 and 140 perfectly round butt and beautiful legs and large breasts. I had a huge crush on her, and she probably knew it - to make things harder, she was always a teaser dresser.Always wearing tights, in such a way that you would believe you could sneak a peek and see more than should be seen - but you never did . She was also teasing me on becoming "so strong" after I start going to the gym. Week passes by, and my friend leaves. Few days later, I was playing outside my house when I hear her calling me from her yard. I go there and she ask me if I could be a dear and help her move a couch. Of course I say yes, and head into her house. She tells me she is getting a little bored, and wants to rearrange the furniture in the living room. She was wearing black leggins and a simple white t-shirt, just long enough to cover her butt. The couch we were supposed to move was somewhat unusual. It was a 4- seat dark brown leather, and the top cushion was only 1 piece. In addition to being basically a long leather mattress, the top cushion was very thick, almost 20inch , taking most of the seat depth, and the base was really low. We tried to move it, but it wouldn't budge. So she says lets move the cushion first, so it gets easier to move the rest of the couch. We lift the top cushion and start moving it . While doing that, I clumsily trip and fell backwards while the cushion falls on top of me. "Are you OK?" she asks. More embarrassed than hurt, I say I'm OK while laying half stuck under the cushion. She laughs and jokingly puts her feet on top of the cushion in a victory pose while saying "Flawless victory" - funny reference on the games I was playing with my friend... That instant I got so hard i almost came. I pulled myself out, moved the rest of the couch in place and put the cushion back. Moved the rest of the furniture around and we're done. She plops down on the couch glad the job is done, and tells me to have a seat as well. "Better on top than under it, right?" she jokes. We talks for a while about what I'm doing at school , she complains about her husband never being home and getting bored. She goes in the kitchen and brings me a glass of water for "sweating so much". I found that a little weird, since I didn't do much and was hardly sweating. I had no idea of what was about to happen...Her phone rings and I thought I could hear a guy's voice , but could not understand what he said. I thought I heard "15 minutes" - the conversation was very brief, so I didn't pay much attention. The conversation continued, and all of a sudden she lays on the couch and puts her feet on my lap... Being the experienced guy I was, I obviously froze, completely confused and turned on by her move. She said " Whats wrong , ...don't you like me? You think my feet are ugly?" "No! Your feet are beautiful! " i say, falling right into her play. "So, are you gonna give me a massage then? My feet are really sore..." We stopped talking, as I diligently give her perfectly pedicured feet the best massage I could. "Oh, this feels so good" she moans while getting more comfy on the couch. "You're really talented". 10 wonderful minutes pass, and slowly her feet start rubbing against my groin.. I was in heaven. Them I hear the front door open and close. "Honey, I'm home!" I hear and jump strait up to my feet. She seem unexpectedly calm , though I saw her face changing. Again I stayed there frozen. Few long seconds pass, then I see a smile flashing on her face - she bolts on her feet, lifts the couch cushion and says: "Quick! Get under here!" Without a second thought, I immediately lay down on the base of the couch while she lays the cushion on top of me. "Keep your head sideways!" she commands. Doing just that, I realized the couch cushion is quite heavy, and I could barely move. Since my head was sideways, I could see a little bit of sunshine from under the cushion. She sat back on the cushion, right on top of my stomach. That felt strangely exciting - her being so comfortable, while I was trapped under her. I could hear her husband heavy footsteps as he was walking in the room, than all of a sudden felt a heavy weight pressing right on my chest. He sat on the couch right next to her. The little sunshine went out. Being stuck under the cushion I could only heard bits of muffled sounds of their conversation . They seem to have a good time. I could hear them burst into laughter a few times. I was revolted. I didn't like the guy. He owned a Porsche dealership and was always surrounded by beautiful "sales" girls. He didnt care about his son's friends and never even said hi to any of us. And now... sitting right on top of me. Laughing. I tried to move, but the weight was just too much. So I just lied there. Ten minutes passes, the conversation seem to stop. I was hoping the guy leaves, so I can get out. No such luck though.. I could only hear bits of sound, but swear I could heard Carmen moaning. "What the hell is happening?" I thought. I could feel her getting up. Somehow relieved, I wait for him to get up as well. The all of a sudden the weight on my chest gets heavier. She was sitting on his lap. I was starting to have trouble breathing. I could not hear sounds anymore, so they were not talking. What was happening? Were they kissing? No way, I thought.After all those complains, it was not possible, right? Yet, I could feel them moving... Very slowly at first. Barely noticeable. Then there was a pause. At that point the nightmare started. Up and down. Hard. Then harder. They were fucking! On top of me! I was livid. Their first thrust blew the wind out of me and I loudly grunted. I tried to push the cushion upwards, but only managed to release some pressure, enough to breath in. I could feel my chest cavity being compressed to the point I thought it would cave in. This went for an agonizing 20 minutes . They were going hard, and I could hear faint screams from both of them. Barely being able to breath or move and having my body relentlessly pounded under the cushion I could do nothing but endure. Then it stopped. She dismounted him then plopped on the couch. But to my surprise, instead of sitting on his right as she did before, she sat his left - and straight on top of my face. She knew exactly where I was - she was doing it on purpose! They both sat there and talked - but I could not hear what. I thought I start smelling tobacco smoke. Perfect - I thought- as if not humiliating enough serving as their extra cushion while they were humping on top of me, i was providing extra support for their post-sex cigarette as well. Ten minutes later, the guy left - and a huge weight had been literally lifted of my chest. Yet Carmen still sat there, squishing my face under her, waiting for her husband to leave. Finally she got up. She lifted the couch cushion and I got out. My body was hurting, but fresh air was so good! She looks at my red face and soaking wet clothes and laughs "Are you OK? Looks like you had quite a workout under there.Much more intense than going to the gym, right?" A thousand thoughts were racing through my head - yet I could say nothing. She was so confident, so mean, and despite her question she seem to care less if I was actually OK or not. "I heard a muffled scream from inside the couch" she continued. "Next time, you need to control yourself, understood?" I was horrified. "What next time? There will be NO next time!"- I thought. "Yes", I said.
  8. My Summer Job

    Hi! My name is Nicole Mcbride. I am 17 years old and this fall I will be my senior year at Holmes High School where I have a 4.2 GPA. I am most definitely the most spoiled, conceited, rich pampered princess in my neighborhood. My looks are undeniable and many of boys have told my the when GOD made me he truly made me flawless. Since as far back as I can remember I have had wimps and losers doing everything for me and it is just natural for me to boss them around. I know I am far superior to these ugly scrawny losers and if they want the honor and privilege to exist in my world that I am going to make sure it benefits and put them to work. Why would I ever let a wimp around and not take advantage of getting some of my chores done. I cannot fathom why any girl like me would. Why should I clean my own room or organize my own closet when there is a healthy able wimps living across the street who can do it for me and thank me for the honor when he gets done. I mean I am having to waste my time supervising or at least checking on the wimp from time to time to make sure he is completing the chore I gave him to complete correctly. Can you imagine if my toilet was not scrubbed correctly? Wimps are not real bright sometimes and I have learned until you have them trained correctly they need supervision. When I was in the fourth grade I had new neighbors move in across the street. I was so excited when I learned that the family had two boys. One of the boys was named Nick and he was my age and in the fourth grade with me. The other boy Anthony or Tony was older and in the seventh grade. One day Anthony was outside and I walked across the street and introduced myself. When I met him I was so happy my new neighbors weren’t going to be losers. I was in fourth grade mind you and already had three neighborhood wimps following me around and did not need anymore that is until I met his brother Nicky or Nicky. After talking with Anthony in his front yard for 20 minutes his front door burst open and out runs a wimp and the little guys running so fast he does not see us thank god as he ran directly into the garage. Upon seeing this I said: “Wow you just moved in two days ago and you already have a wimp! What was he doing unpacking your room for you?” I said “Unpacking my room? Ya right my little brother is the biggest slob. And did you call him a wimp?” Anthony says while laughing “He is a wimp! Are you sure he is your biological brother because if I were you I would be pissed if GOD put a wimp in my family.” I said seriously “I can’t believe you are just seeing him for the first time and you are already calling him a wimp because in our old neighborhood I had to protect him from everyone because they all beat him up all the time and they all called him a wimp but they all knew him you don’t.” Anthony says while laughing. “I do not need to know him trust me he is a wimp I can tell.” I said seriously. “Well he is going to be real disappointed when he sees you and you call him a wimp because has heard all about you and keeps talking about that the blond girl across the street who is his age. He really really really wants to be friends with you.”. Anthony says “Well he is going to be very very very disappointed wimp because I am not friends with wimps.” I said Just then the wimp comes running out of the garage and sees us and he immediately runs over like a tornado with the biggest smile on his face. “Ah Tony I told you there was a blond girl who was my age. What you guys doing playing?.” Nick says all excited. “Nicole I would like you to meet my little brother Nick.” Anthony say while putting his arm around his little brother's shoulders. “Ya I am Nick I heard you lived across the street. What you guys playing?” Nick says all excited. A few days before this my mom had bought me a brand new pair of white keds and warned more that they were for school only and not to wear them outside. Well I wore them outside and got them really muddy and was hiding them from my my mom so I would not get in trouble so while Nick is still waiting for me to tell him my name I say “Do you want to play with us” I say “Oh very very much. Let's play hide and seek?” Nick says “I have a better game. Hold on I will be right back.” I said and walked back across the street into my garage and grabbed my new muddy pair of keds I had been hiding from my mom and walked back over to the wimp and his brother and said while handing my muddy pair of shoes to the wimp “Here take these and go play clean my neighbors shoes for her. and do not bring them back until they are new looking.” I said seriously “(Stuttering but still taking the shoes from me.)You want me to play clean your shoes but that does not sound fun.” Nick says. “Well fun or not that’s what you're playing so go play with them in your garage by yourself so I can finish speaking with Tony and do not finish playing with them until they are spotless as there new looking.” I said “(Shocked looking and turning white in the face) HEY! I AM NOT GOING TO CLEAN YOUR SHOES FOR YOU.” Nick said “OK don’t but we will never play again.and don't ever raise your voice to me again or else I will beat you. Now get lost runt.” I said calmly “HEY THIS IS NOT FAIR AND CLEAN YOUR OWN SHOE.” Nick says I took a step toward him and he flinched and I said “I told you to lower your voice runt and do not raise it again. Now I am not going to tell you again. Go clean my shoes and bring them back when they are done or get lost and do not ever speak with me again. And do not say another word. Just take them and go. Goodbye.” I said It was so funny the little wimp was holding my muddy shoes, his lower lip was quivering, and finally after like three minutes of silence where I just was just pointing towards his garage he turned and walked away and he walked towards his garage while carrying my muddy shoes Once the runt was gone and I had him doing his first ever chore his brother said “Wow, he does not know how to clean I do not think.” Tony said while laughing “He better learn how to clean and very quickly if he plans to live across the street from me because the next game he will play is clean your neighbor's room and organize her closet when her parents leave later.” I said seriously “(Laughing almost puking) Wow! He is a slob and I do not think he is gonna wanna play that but if he does can he play clean your older brothers room too?” Tony said “Let's see how the runt does on the shoes first but I think him being around might not be that bad after all because I have lots of things he can do for me.” I said. To make a long story short I got my shoes back an hour later looking spotless. My room and closet got cleaned the next week and so did Tony’s It has been several years since that day but Nick has become my most trusty and reliable servant since that afternoon and I learned very quickly that the meaner I was to him the harder he worked to gain my approval which is just fine with me. Now back to my present. I am currently laying out by my pool wearing my new hott pink g-string bikini. It is the first weekend of my summer break. It is a Sunday afternoon. My mother has just joined me in her new white bikini and my father is running around the house doing god knows what. My father has been really on me lately because he thinks I am entitled, lazy, and spoiled which is all very true. He seems to be very concerned about my future and what I am going to do with the rest of my life. I tell him not to worry and I will OK. But he seems to think I need to learn some responsibility and focus my attention on establishing a good work ethic. Little does my father know that I already have a great work ethic as I am an exception supervisor with my wimp. My father over the last few months has been assigning more and more chores around my house to me and now that I am older thinks I should earn my keep. I do not really have a problem with any of this but the I am having a problem hiding the fact that my wimp is doing all these chores and not me. My mother I think is more like me and understands how I am but up to this afternoon I never really knew how my mother and i are exactly the same Both my parents are very successful as my mother owns the largest advertising firm in the Southeast United States and my father is a surgeon. My father was a very well known college football player at FSU and a very serious knee injury stopped his collegiate football career This injury got my father interested in medicine and now he operates and helps athletes who become injured. My father is not a wimp, never has been a wimp. My mother attended the University of South Florida obtaining a Masters degree in Marketing and she was a cheerleader. I have never before seen my mother or father raise a voice to one another or have any disagreement before this afternoon. They have a loving and concrete relationship. It is because my father has been on my ass and assigning more and more chores to me around the house that he has finally forced my hand and made me reveal the truth about my wimp. My father also had the nerve to suggest a part time job at a fast food restaurant. Can you imagine such a thing. I have never worked, nor will I ever work. Little was I aware that after this afternoon I would have my summer job. Anyways I have just oiled up my flawless body and am laying in my new G-string next to my mom by the pool. It is Sunday at 1:00PM. I am supposed to wash, wax and fully detail my dad’s car for him sometime today and am waiting for them to go to their friends at 3:00PM to complete this chore as my wimp will be here at 3:01 to do the car. For some reason all hell broke loose when my dad walked out to the pool and sat next me and my mother. Little did I know that the conversation and events that occur with parents on this afternoon will become a defining moment for my family and change all our lives forever. Here is what happened. “Oh no….Here he comes again. Can’t you get him a part time job or something mom?. I bet he brings the car up again. I know it has to get done today and it will as long as you go the Richards But he just won’t stop. Doesn’t he realize that I need to soak up the sun and relax first. You know I have a date tonight with Dave and need my beauty.” I say to my mom “I know dear. Your father does just not understand. We are both very fortunate to have him in this family. He is a great husband and father. He means well. Just let his rants and raves go in one ear and out other like you always do OK dear? Believe me he just wants you to be happy.” Carly Mcbride my mother says “I am happy. In fact, I love my life. Got lots of friends, a new stud boyfriend who is captain on the football team.” I say as my dad walks up and sits next to me in a chair. My father is sweating a little and is drinking a large glass of ice tea. “How are my two girls doing today?’ Richard Mcbride my father says “Working hard day and living the dream dad” I say “Ya it looks like you are working hard young lady. By the way my car is still gonna get done today correct “ Richard says “(Pulling my sunglasses down and resting them on my nose and making eye contact with my dad). Yes dad. Planning to do it later. In case you didn’t notice I am a little busy right now.” I say “(Laughing)Busy..Busy. How are you busy?’ Dad says “I’m tanning. This body is not going to tan itself now is it dad?” I say “You know Nicole I am a little tired of your attitude and I thought as you got older it would change but it seems to get worse the older you get. Now it is suppose to rain later so go start my car now and you can still get sun in the suit you wearing.” Dad says. “No! I am busy right now. You car will get done. Have I not done you car correctly the last three times you made me. In fact, wasn’t it you who said how surprised you were when I showed you the engine.” I said “Yes I have to admit. I was very proud of you dear. I still can’t believe you cleaned the entire engine area.” Dad said “See dad. There is no reason to start a task if you are not going to complete the entire job.” I said “In fact, wasn’t I so proud of you that I gave you $450 for that cheerleading camp?’ Dad says “See worked out good for the both of us.” I said “I will keep rewarding you as long as your responsible and prove that you can do something other than lounge around think the world revolves around you. Now I am serious the weather is gonna turn and it might rain so start the car now please. After all $450 for three washes is a lot of money” Dad said “You gave me that $450 just not for the three car washes but if I remember correctly you said you were also proud of the way I have had my room spotless and didn't you say that you loved my new closet re-organization including the fact that I took the time to color coordinate my closet and hang everything by size?” I said “Yes that was impressive to. That must have took hours to do.” Dad said “Dad like I said there is no reason to start a task and not complete it. Now I am very busy right now. I will do the car even in the rain if I have too” I said “In the rain. Are you nuts and you are not that busy.” Dad says “Yes in the rain. I will wash it in the driveway and pull it in the garage and complete the inside and waxing.” I said. “That's nuts young lady and I still do not know why you can’t do it now and since you seem hell bent on just lounging instead of doing the car why don’t you help hold the bag for my and help me pick all the dogshit up by the lake instead then? Now get up and help me. We can bond.” Dad says I take my my sunglasses off my nose and throw them on the table next to me while sitting up and say “DAD you are crazy to think that I am gonna pick up dogshit with you. I do not pick up dogshit. God that is just disgusting. I cannot believe you just said that.” I said “Somebody has to pick it up.” Dad says “Ya there called Mexicans or laborers, or peons, or losers, or wimps, Why do you think GOD made people like them” I said. “(Yelling)YOUNG LADY YOU ARE NOT ABOVE THOSE HARD WORKING PEOPLE AND IF YOU ARE GONNA OWN THE DOGS YOU NEED TO CLEAN UP AFTER THEM.” DAD SAYS ANGRILY “Yes I am above those people and so are you! In fact, dad you have been frustrating me so much lately with this “do this...do that” attitude let me let you in on a little secret. I am to good to do your car, or even clean my own room. Why do think GOD made geeky little wimpy boys for..” I said. My dad's jaw drops and he has a shocked look on his face but now I am pissed that he had the nerve to think I was gonna pick the dogshit up with him. My mom is just laying in the sun, eyes closed listening. My mom has a strange smirk on her face and seems to be enjoying the conversation. I continue. “In fact, let me let you in on a little secret dad. I have a 4.2 GPA and have never cracked a book. Don’t you find that odd? The reason for that is because I have geeks in everyone of my classes doing all my assignments.” I say My dad tries to interrupt but I continue and I hold my hand up and say no dad let me finish because I am tired of these conversations. “Not only don’t I do my assignments but I have only been in my school's library once because a hot jock I wanted to flirt with was in there so while flirting with him I made a little geeky boy who was sitting with his fat ugly girlfriend get up and give me a pedicure as my toes needed painting also.” I say My dad's jaw is on the floor and he looks sick. “Also I have never carried my own lunch tray to the garbage. I simply snap my fingers and look over to where all the wimps sit and point at my tray and with 5 seconds I have a wimp over taking not only my tray but all my friends trays to the garbage.”I say breathing heavy My dad’s face is all red. He is fuming mad. He finally says “(YELLING) YOUNG LADY YOU DO NOT TREAT PEOPLE THAT WAY. IT IS WRONG. CARLY ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOUR DAUGHTER HERE?” MY DAD'S YELLS Now it was my turn for a surprise when my mom replies with her eyes still closed “(Calm) Rich I see nothing wrong with Nicole having a few geeks or wimps assist her with her schoolwork or helping throw her trash away. Nor am I upset that she has wimps carrying her books, In fact, I am impressed with her time management abilities when she is smart enough to realize that her toes needed polishing while she was flirting with the stud in the library so she made the geek paint her toenails while she flirted. That was really smart of her as she probably got a date and still got her toes done. That was very smart Nicole?” Mom says, “(Calm) Thanks mom. That is what I thought” I said My dad is almost hyperventilating. His face is three shades of red. He is sweating. “(Yelling) Carly that is crazy and I can’t believe you are condoning her behavior!!” Dad screams “(Calm eyes still shut.)”What is wrong Richard. I had geeks doing my assignments in high school and college also. In fact, I had one geek Harvey who spent so much time getting me a 4.5 that he neglected his own work and failed out of school high school.” Mom say calmly (Screaming) “What!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Dad screams “(Calm eyes shut still): Ya his name was Harvey. When he failed out of high school his parents were so mad at him because they know he is smart but I told him not to worry and advised him he could come to college with me if he wanted to.” Mom says This story I had never heard and I was so proud of my mom. Dad looks sick. Mom continues while chuckling “I told little Harvey he could come to college with me but there would be no free ride. I told him that I was living in an off campus apartment with Lydia (Moms best friend and co-owner of her firm) and we had a large walkin closet where we could put a cot for him and and as long as he agree to work part-time and give me his checks for rent I would provide a roof over his head and feed him ramen noodles everyday. I also told Harvey that because he was only working part time Lydia and I would expect him to do all the housework (Laundry, cleaning etc). He is quite the maid. Of course, because he got me a 4.2 GPA in high school and was very smart he did all Lydia’s and my school work.” I was so proud and excited to hear the rest of this story but I might need to call 911 for my dad. “So what happened mom?” I said all excited “(Shaking his head in disbelief) I can’t believe this and now I see where our daughter gets it from and why am I just hearing about this Harvey guy now? Wait a minute……...Harvey your janitor at the firm? Is this the same Harvey? My dad says with a disbelieving look on his face. “Oh you met Harvey?. I was not aware” Mom says (opening her eyes and looking at my dad for the first time. “Yes I know Harvey. I helped him with all that garbage when you needed to stop by the office on that Sunday a few months ago remember?” Dad screams (SCREAMING WITH EXCITEMENT) HARVEY IS YOUR JANITOR NOW. HOW AWESOME. HE DID ALL YOURS AND AUNT LYDIA SCHOOL WORK AND THEN BECAME YOUR JANITOR? “Oh yes I finally got over being angry at Harvey for his screw up and took pity on him so offered him a minimum wage job about a year ago. He likes it much better that Burger King. But Rich please do not assist my staff again. I just bumped Harvey up by .25 cents an hour and expect him to earn his salary. I am a little pissed off that my janitor would allow his boss’s husband to assist him in his duties and I will address this with him Monday morning.” Mom says looking at dad. “(Yelling) No your not gonna yell at that poor man! Me and you need to talk when Nicole is not around . I am very pissed off.” Dad yells “Why can’t I hear! I am almost 18 and have my own Harvey and I think from what I am learning mom might have some great advice for me. I need to hear more about this Harvey idiot right now mom.?” I say “(Yelling) Do not call him an idiot young lady!” Dad says “Sounds like an idiot to me. Think about it dad. He got mom a 4.0 GPA in high school causing him to fail out and not graduate. Then he gets mom and Lydia through college and they become very successful and wealthy and now he scrubs their work toilets. I love it. Thank GOD he is a smart idiot Huh mom? Now dad I really need to speak with my mother about this Harvey idiot because he sounds just like my wimp so since you were gonna go pick the dogshit up why don’t you go do that so I can speak with mom alone.” I say all excited (Screaming) No! I want to hear what you two discuss so you are gonna get off your ass and help me pick up dogshit, then your gonna do my car, then you gonna do any other thing I can find to keep you busy and after I discuss this with your mother than the three of us can sit down but I am too angry right now.” Dad screams “Richard stop screaming at Nicole. I have never seen you so mad. It is not Nicole's fault at all.” Mom says calmly “Dad I have a proposition for you because I am not leaving mom's side until she tells me more about this Harvey idiot. So if you wanna hear this conversation I will have my wimp come pick up all the dogshit by the lake for you as long as he is done by 3:00 becaase he needs to do your car then.” I say “(Screaming again) WHAT! You aren’t the one doing my car?”Dad yells “(Calm) Dad quit yelling. I never told you that it was me doing your car you just assumed it was me because you told me to do it and then I told Nick to do it for me. Besides I did spend some time on your car as I had to supervise my worker and check the car when he was done. Now do you want to do the dogshit or would you like Nick too” I say (Shaking his head) Are you referring to Nick that nice kid from across the street? I thought you hated him and thought he was a nerd.” Dad says “I don’t like him and he is a nerd but he sure likes me so I figured if he wants to like me and hang out with me then it am going benefit from it too. I think our relationship is awesome! Think about it Nick benefits as he gets to hang out with me while he cleans my room, organizes my closet, and does other chores for me. I benefitted as I got all my chores done and $450 from you. Now that I think about dad you benefited too as you got your car cleaned three times. I have the strong feeling that mom is gonna start benefitting too because there is a lot more to do around here. Right mom?” I said “(Smiling and calm) Well I was impressed with the organization of your closet and would not mind if he organized and color coated mine too. In fact, tell me when you can schedule it and maybe I can have Harvey take a few hours off without pay of course and he can come over and give Nick some pointers because Harvey has years and years of experience.” Mom says. “(Excited jumping up and down) FUCKIN A RIGHT MOM. Nick needs some guidance and could use a positive role model like Harvey.” I say “(Yelling) No way. I am not having a grown ass man who is my wife’s janitor in this house with my 17 year old daughter organizing my clothes in my closet. Carly I can’t believe you even suggest such a thing He is probably a pervert and Nicole is only 17.” Dad says “(Calm) I know how old Nicole is Richard! I believe she has a very mature mind and from what I am learning knows a great deal about bossing wimps around. I had no idea about any of this. I am OK with her meeting Harvey in fact I think she would love him. I also agree with Nicole and think Harvey would really help Nick. Also, as far as you worrying about him being a pervert do not worry Harvey has been in chastity for years now see the key on my anklet.” Mom says while pointing to a little key on her ankle. “(YELLING) WHAT’S THE KEY FOR AND WHAT IS CHASTITY?” BOTH MY DAD AND I YELL My mom thoroughly explains chastity to my father and me. I am having a fucking orgasm and know that Nick is getting one as soon as possible. “Carly we need to talk without daughter.” Dad says seriously. “Dad go pick up dogshit now!’ I say “I am not picking up the dogshit anymore ever. That has now become your job young lady and you are also gonna start working. I am going to put my foot down because this is just crazy talk. I can’t believe that I just learned that my wife of 17 years has locked some poor mans dick up in college and it still has it locked up. And to make worse he is her janitor. Now get up Nicole and pick up all that dogshit because it is your job” Dad screams “Fine dad. Are you saying that it is my responsibility to pick the dogshit up.” I say glaring at my dad “Every week Nicole. Every week” Dad says. “Fine! I want in increase in my allowance then. Now let me get to work.” I say. I grab my cell phone of the table and dial Nicks number and put the phone on speaker “Who are you calling young lady. We are in the middle of something.” Dad says\ I hold the palm of my hand up and shove it in my dad's face and sat “Be quiet dad I am working here” I say Dad has a puzzled look on his face but my mom is smirking and I think she knows what I am doing After the third ring Nick answers and the conversation go like this: Nick: Hi Ms Nicole Nicole: I have a new chore for and need right now Nick: I am very busy hand washing the summer football teams jockstraps and I am a hard time hiding them from my mom. Nicole: oh ya, I forgot that I had you doing those for Dave. But regardless, you can finish those tonight after you complete my dads car. You have work to do now. I need you to grab a shovel from your garage and a trash bag and start picking up all the dogshit behind the fence of my backyard near the lake. I am laying with my mom and expect to see you out there working in ten minutes OK? Nick: what if your mom sees me? Nicole: HUH? Nick: What do I say if your mom sees me and what will she think when she sees me picking up all the your dogshit. Won’t she ask why? Nicole: Well if she sees you she will probably say look at the wimp picking up all our dogshit. What kinda question is that idiot. Now I better see you hard at work in ten minutes. Nick: Ms. Nicole just the area between the fence and the lake by your back yard? My mom then signals me to put him on hold so I tell him Hold on idiot. I will be right back do not hang up. I say “What mom. “ I say “Well I was just thinking now that it's summer me and your dad usually take a nightly walk around the lake and I am always looking for piles trying to avoid the dogshit and your dad stepped in a pile last night half way around so if it is not too much trouble maybe Nick could go around the whole lake so your dad doesn’t step in anymore.” Nicole God I love my mom. We are cut from the same clothe. My dad looks ill and has a disbelieving look on his face I say “Great idea. Consider it done. Anything else?’ I ask my mom “Well your dad's blue Nikes are in the garage and he wants me to clean them but if you're gonna make Nick pick up all the dogshit anyways and he is used to the smell can you have him clean the shoes too?” My mom says God I love her and I just realize that loser Nick just got fucked because I think my mom is more excited than me. “Absolutely Not! You two stop it.” Dad says yelling again “Then clean your own damn shoes OK. Because I not? Mom yells back “Dad shut up. I will do it for you. It really is no problem at all. Now shhh” I say. I hit the hold button and resume the conversation which goes like this. Nicole: You still there? Nick: Yes Ms. Nicole Nicole: OK. I want you just to walk around the entire lake and pick up all the dogshit because my dad stepped in some last night half way around the lake and cannot and will not happen again. So it takes my parent a good hour to just walk around the lake so I would imagine to actively search for dogshit it should take you two to two and half so get busy because you still have my dad's car to do and those stupid jock strap for the summer football team. SO no slacking. Got it. Nick; Yes Ms. Nicole. My mom is waving her hand like a mad woman so I say Hold on again. Don’t hang up. “What now mom?” I say “Don’t forget your dads shoes! Remember? I am not doing it now.” My mom says all seriously “Oh ya. I forgot. Consider it done. “ I say I hit the hold button and resume the conversation: Nicole: OK I am back. After you do pick up all the dogshit and before you get started on the car get my dad's blue Nike gym shoes which are in the garage by the door and clean them too. Now I am not going to constantly watch you but I am going to check your chores when you're finished. I do not want you to call me bothering me with your stupid question. I am relaxing right now and do not have the time or energy for you. Are my instructions in what you are to do clear? Nick: Yes Ms. Nicole Nicole: Well unlike some wimps who are smart you happen to be pretty dumb so let me make sure you know what my orders are. I do not want you bothering while I am relaxing in the sun. Repeat the three chores you are to complete for me. Nick: Pick up all the dogshit around the entire lake, clean your dad’s blue Nikes and do his car like last time. Nicole: In ten minutes I better see you hard at work. Nick: Ms. Nicole do you think when I am done doing all that I can rub your feet please? Nicole: No! Your working and picking up dogshit all afternoon so you're not coming anywhere near me Nick: But Ms. Nicole I can wash myself it's just I heard you let Jeremy Strutter rub your feet yesterday after your cheerleading function and I was just wondering why you did not call me to do that for you. Nicole: Loser I am trying to have a relaxing lazy afternoon and you are wasting my time with your stupid question. Do not call me or speak with me again till you have complete the three chores which I have assigned. I made Jeremy rub my feet because he was there, I like him better than you, he is cuter than you, and I felt like it. Your job is not to worry about who i have rub my tire cheerleading feet now goodbye. I hang up and mom has tears coming down her cheek and is beaming with pride. Dad is hunched over shaking his head “OK dad. Now that I am competing the new chore you gave me i want an extra $50 a week.” I say seriously “I am not giving you $50 more a week” dad says “I will and because you got your little worker out there minutes after your father told you to do it I will increase it by another $50. Hunny give your daughter $25 for the shoes. “ Mom says “OK so now instead of getting $150 a week I get $250 and dad do not worry about the $25 that was on the house but only this once.” I say seriously My dad just shakes his head. Then my cell rings from Nick's house and I go ballistic and answer on speaker while screaming. The call went like this Nicole; WHAT LOSER I THOUGHT I WAS CLEAR! THIS BETTER BE GOOD OR ELSE Anthony(Nicks cool brother): I am not your loser but I am calling because you have the little guy running all around the garage like a madman. He is practically in tears because he is not allowed to call you and ask question but he says he needs a large shovel and we only have a very small one for flowers. Nicole: You tell the wimp having his brother call me is the same thing as him calling me. Not that I do not want to speak with you stud but I do not want to be pestered by the wimp all afternoon. He can use the small shovel. I do not care. Now tell him to get to work. Anthony: What do you have the little idiot doing anyways? I explained the three chores to Anthony who was laughing and then hung up. I stretch back in my chair and say “OK dad. Not a bad day so far. I am tanning and made an extra $100 and it isn’t 2:00PM yet. Now do you need something to do because mom and I need to discuss this chastity issue and I need to learn more about Harvey. I say I go inside and get three fresh large glasses of ice tea and while I am sitting back down I point towards our fence and say “Look there is the little wimp is now.” My mom and dad both almost kill themselves as they turned their heads so fast and look toward the fence. You can see Nick bedding down with a garbage bag in one hand and a little shovel in the other. My mom picks up her phone and says “I will be right back I am gonna take a picture of him because Aunt Lydia is not going to believe me when I tell her tomorrow. She really gonna be proud of you Nicole.” Mom says while getting up walking to the fence and snapping tons and tons of pictures beaming with pride. My dad is speechless and both watch my mom who is more excited than me. My mom gets done and lays back down next to me and says: “I just sent Aunt Lydia three pictures and texted the situation. I know she is gonna be proud” Mom says. At this point I am all business and say “So let this me get this straight. This chastity makes it impossible for Harvey to get an erection and therefore he can’t have any sexual relationships. How does Harvey have he have an orgasm.” I say “Well he doesn’t have any orgasms unless Lydia or I want him too. Don’t worry Richard since I have been married to you I stopped messing with poor Harvey’s chastity because I did not feel comfortable unlocking it for him and allowing him to pleasure himself over the toilet as I thought I would be cheating on you. Lydia takes care of all that nonsense every few months for the poor little fellow. But I wear his keys still so he understands that I still have the authority to unlock him if I deem to do so. However, I can still remotely shock his balls through my cellphone if I need anything but as long as he works at the office I never really use it.” Mom says “(Screaming excited) Shock his balls? What does that mean” I scream “Oh the ball shocking is great. It sends an electrical painful surge of electricity through poor Harvey balls and lets him know that I need something. But let me start at the beginning. In college chastity became necessary as Harvey’s masterbation became problematic because Lydia and I always had studs over. Poor Harvey would be trying to complete his daily chores meanwhile Lydia and I are having sex in our bedrooms and we found out that poor Harvey was not working very hard when this happened because he was always in the bathroom masterbating while listening to us have sex. I thought we were going to have to get rid of Harvey but Lydia searched the internet and found out about male chastity. After Harvey was secured and his masterbation problem ceased his work performance increased greatly. In fact, we found that the longer he was without an orgasm the harder and faster he worked. Of course we were in college then and pretty wild so poor Harvey really struggled sometimes. I can remember one example when Lydia cancelled his monthly release because Harvey forgot to polish some of her heels and that same night Lydia and I had two studs over and we had been drinking and decided to practice our deep throating abilities on our studs and Lydia made poor Harvey hold our hair for us while we serviced our studs. Poor Harvey was in tears because he had worked so hard that month for his chastity release and because he forgot a chore it cancelled. His poor arms were shaking so bad while he held Lydia and my hair for us. But guess what Harvey has never forgotten to polish Lydia’s shoes again.” Mom said. As my mom is talking I almost orgasm again and dad’s jaw is on the ground and he is white. Then I say: “I am having the same problem with Nick masterbating all the time. Where can I buy one and how much do they costs because it sounds to me like it is a wise investment plus I think Nick could really benefit from it. Plus I can’t wait to wear his key and my ankle and show all my friends” I say all excited. “(Yelling) You're not putting Nick into chastity young lady. Wait a minute...Did you just say Nick masterbates? “Yes I am. In fact, fuck the car I have been saving for. That $4500 I saved is going for Nicks chastity device because from what I just learned once in chastity I will not need a car as I will just make Nick drive me everywhere. Yes he hasn’t masterbated in front of me but he always is using the bathroom while doing his chores and I find used tissues in the garbage can. Plus from what mom just said I think chastity will keep Nick focused on his chores and not his stupid wimpy dick” I say “(Yelling) I am not allowing it.” Dad says “You do not have a say. I am almost 18 plus with or without your blessing Nick is going into chastity. Period. I want him to be my janitor someday.” I say “Help me out here Carly you can’t approve of this” Dad say while looking at my mom “Oh relax Richard. I agree with Nicole on this one and believe Nick could really benefit from chastity. I think it could be a great investment for her to make. Me and Lydia paid $3500 for poor Harvey’s because it had the spikes and ball shocker built in but what an investment because 24 years later all I to do is send a shock and Harvey comes running. Now where else can buy anything for $3500 that 23 years later still has that kinda return.” Mom says “I still do not understand the ball shocker mom.” I said “Well when Lydia investigated chastity we were informed that the more expensive units came with a ball shocker. Lydia and I figured for the extra $1000 it might be useful so we got it. We did not know how handy it would be until poor Harvey was secured. Like a week after we bought the chastity and put it on Harvey Lydia and I were lounging in the family room and Harvey was out in the parking lot washing my car and we both needed refills on our drinks so Lydia said let's see how the ball shocking works and shocked Harvey and with three minutes we had refills and do not have to budge from the couch. After that we told Harvey that one shock is for Lydia and two shocks is for me. The shocks can be delivered from a level of 1 to 12. A shock of about 7 will knock poor Harvey to the floor making it look like he is having a seizure. So we decided that a level three wouldn’t hurt that bad and would just jolt him to attention letting him know we needed something. The shocking feature was only $1000 but boy I can tell you it was money well spent. After that we had poor Harvey running and doing everything. There were a few times that we really fucked with poor Harvey but that is a story for another time. I do not shock Harvey or bother him at all but I am sure he still knows that if he gets two jolts he has to call me within five minutes or else.”Mom says “Shock him twice mom and let's see please. In fact where is the shocker?” I say “Once we graduated college we upgraded his chastity and now the shocking device is activated through my cell phone here and the rule is one shock for me and two for Lydia. Like I said I do not mess with Harvey because I married and hopelessly in love with you Richard and because of you Nicole and quite frankly have outgrown having some wimp running around doing things for me but Lydia still uses Harvey quite often but she is not married yet and a bit wilder. But if you would like to try Nicole hit this button on my cell twice and let’s see.’ My dad has given up and is just sitting here listening and his jaw is on the ground. I hit the button twice and looked at my watch. “When he calls Nicole answer my cell on speaker and I will let you speak with Harvey. He will be so happy because Harvey is always telling me how beautiful you are as he sees your pictures in my office. I want to see how he speaks with you and how you handle him” Mom says “Why should I tell him we shocked him?” I said suddenly nervous “Oh I do not care. What would you shock Nick for if dad and I weren’t home.” Mom said “Honestly if you and dad weren’t home or knew about him he would be rubbing my feet as I lay out, then he would be doing dads car. I actually can find many chores for him to do. But when you guys are not home I usually have Nick rubbing my feet or waiting on me in one way or another. I said “We'll see what Harvey is up to when he calls and if he is not busy have him come help Nick with his chore. I think Harvey would be a great role model for Nick. Harvey will be so happy. He says you're beautiful every time in he is cleaning my office. He will love to serve you Nicole.” Mom says “How old is Harvey?” Dad says “Oh I guess around 40 maybe. Why? What difference does that make. He is a wimp with a locked up penis they are ageless.” Mom says “I do not know. I give up.” Dad says “Dad I hope he is 40 because the thought of a 40 year old wimp with a locked up dick having to do what I say turns me on and trust me i will let the loser know too.” I say “I do not know about this.” Dad say My mom goes into bitch mode. I am just like her and never knew it. God I love her. My mom who is frustrated with my dad now says angrily “Oh shut up Richard. (Mom has never told my dad to shut up) I have been a good wife and mother for years and until now have never spoken about this but Nicole is almost 18 and there are 18 old wimps too and I want to see how she handles an experience wimp. Now if you are gonna have issues go help Nick with the dogshit or shut up and observe.”Mom says raising her voice a little I was so proud of my mom. I never have heard her speak to my dad with anything but respect until that is right now. I see exactly where I get it from. I am a lot bitchier and demanding than mom but she said she has lots of stories from high school and college which she has yet to tell me. Maybe in her younger years she was as bitchy as me. My aunt Lydia is a bitch but I never knew about Harvey. I can’t wait for my dad to leave or shut up. “Did you just tell me to shut up and tell me to go pick up dogshit Carly?” Dad asks mom “Yes I did Richard. I have observed you get on Nicole for the last six months for for no reason at all. I am so proud of my daughter. She has maintained over a 4.0 GPA and does everything you asks whether she does it or not it gets done. Nicole is beautiful. More beautiful than me or Lydia ever were and I have known for years now that boys go crazy when she enters room. I have also known for years that there are wimps/losers who would do anything for her attention but never told her to act use those wimps. Now that I have found out that she has a wimp of her own and has for sometime now I want to empower her. So yes if you can’t deal with this go do something else and as far as I am concerned wash your own damn car because if you do not like the way your daughter does it than do it yourself because the way Nicole does it is to have Nick do it for her.”. Mom says while chewing out my dad. Just then moms cell phone rings. “Oh that must Harvey and in 3.5 minutes. See 20 something years later and he still is reliable as ever for $3500. Here hunny answer it and hit speaker as I want to hear you in action: The following call went like this: Nicole: Hello this is Nicole Harvey: I am sorry ma’am but I must have the wrong number because the person I am calling is not you. Nicole: Who are you calling? Harvey: What difference does that make she is not named Nicole. I am sorry Nicole: Is this Harvey? Harvey: Yes. who are you? Nicole: I am Nicole your boss Carly Mcbride’s 17 year old daughter Harvey: Oh Ms. Nicole I so sorry for the disrespect please do not tell your mom or I will get in huge trouble. I apologize ma’am. But hey did you shock me? Nicole: Yes I did Harvey and the reason I did is because I need you to come and help my wimp with some chores. Do you know where I live? Harvey: Yes I do (stuttering) but right now I am going to my best friends from high schools 40 birthday party so it is not a good time. Nicole: Do you think I care about your dorky friends party and I do not know how you had any friends in high school because mom told me you were always studying so she could get straight A’s. Now my dad's car needs cleaning, dogshit need picking up, shoes need to be cleaned and I am certainly not going to do any of these chores. I make my wimp neighbor who is a complete loser like you do it. I am telling you that you need to come help him because there is lots to do. Now that I think about it harvey my toilet needs scrubbing and from what I have learned this afternoon you are the expert and can show my loser how to complete his chores with more efficiency and productivity. Am I clear? Harvey; Does your mom or dad know you are contacting me. Nicole: How can you get my mom and Aunt Lydia over 4.0 GPA but be so stupid. Did you not call me because you were jolted with electricity twice in your nuts? Harvey: Well yes I did Nicole Nicole: There is no well about it loser. If I shocked you twice then my mom must have told me that is how to contact you right.? Harvey; Yes Nicole Nicole: I would think that a loser who has served in chastity for so long would be more respectful and I think I deserve respect anyways loser so start calling me Ms. Nicole got it. Harvey: Yes Ms. Nicole please do not tell your mom Nicole: Do not tell me what I can and can’t tell my mom. I think my wimp is better mannered than you and he is not even in chastity yet. And to think that if you could get here in 20 I was going to allow you to rub my tired cheerleader feet and now you will be lucky I give the the privlidge of picking up my dogshit. Harvey: Ms Nicole I am sorry. I was not telling you what to tell her please let me rub your feet.I think you are so beautiful as I see your pictures all the time. Nicole: Ya you see my pictures when you're scrubbing my mom toilet in her private office or giving her shoes a quick polish or taking out her trash bin. Do you think a girl like me wants someone like that rubbing her feet. Don’t answer because I already know the answer which is no she does not. Now I heard your fifteen minutes away. I will be kind and give you 20 minutes and for each minute you're late we will add an additional month until you're allowed an orgasm. Oh and I am going to start wearing your chastity key on my ankle and when I hang up with you I am calling my Aunt Lydia and advise her that I'm in charge of you orgasms for now on. Am I clear? Harvey Yes Ms. Nicole. Do I still cum tonight because Lydia was going to allow me my monthly release tonight at 9:00. Nicole: No I have a date with my stud boyfriend tonight so you can wait till next month. And you better start putting a MS. in front of every name you say for now on so I know you are being respectful and do not ask me when you can cum again as I will advise you when I decide but let me tell you that if you are not constantly kissing my ass and making me happy you will never cum again. Is that clear loser. Harvey: Yes Ms. Nicole. I am leaving now see you in under 20 minutes and thank you. . I hang up the phone and my dad is just shaking his head speechless but my mom is beaming with pride and smiling ear to ear when she finally says “Oh Harvey is gonna love you but Harvey is my loser. I told you to answer and speak with him not steal him. What makes you think I am going to give you Harvey’s chastity key young lady? What makes you think Lydia will allow you to change or delay his chastity releases.” Mom asks while smiling. “Well I don’t know that you would give me the key or that Aunt Lydia would allow me to be in charge of his chastity releases but I have and idea which popped into my head once I was talking to Harvey let me tell you what I am thinking and again as I was speaking with Harvey I observed Nick bend over and pick up the dogshit I thought that this could be a good summer job for me as I am really really really good at bossing wimps around.” “How does that job pay you young lady.” Dad asks “Well I just made an extra $100/week from mom for having Nick do the doghshit around the lake.” I say and was interrupted as mom's cell phone rang. “Oh it’s Lydia. Hold on Nicole let me take this. “ Mom says My mom keeps telling Lydia that the pictures are real and quickly advise what she has learned about me and the call ends. “Lydai is right around the corner and wants in on this discussion so she will be here in a few but she is so so so proud of you Nicole and says she will gladly let you be in charge of Harvey’s chastity releases and suggests you don’t let him cum for awhile and make him kiss your ass a lot first.” Mom says while removing her anklet and Harvey chastity key and handing both to me. “Now here put this anklet and wear Harveys key proudly and make sure he sees it when he gets here OK?’ Fuckin A right it's OK. This is the best day of my life. When this discussion started I was just going to reveal to my parents the fact that wimp does chores for me. Little did I know but just a short hour later I am given a trained wimp with his dick locked already. Now I have two of them. In Part 2: Lydia arrive and locked up Harvey arrives and a new Teen Goddess is born.
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