Ariel's Pedicure Punishment Part 2: Face As A Footstool
Foxy Foot Brats' REA And ARIEL - Pedicure Failure - PART2 - Face As A Footstool And Footmassage On Face -Facebox- REMASTERED
As I entered the room, I couldn't help but smile at the sight before me. My girlfriend Ariel was seated comfortably on the facebox, her feet dangling inches away from the face of our slave. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading for mercy as he lay trapped beneath her feet.
"So," I laughed, "how's the view from down there, loser?"
He groaned in response, his face still red from the intense pedicure session he had just endured. It seemed like he couldn't catch a break with us – first he failed to do a good job painting Ariel's nails, and now he was paying for it.
"Well," Ariel said, glancing down at him, "I suppose we can't leave him like that forever." She looked over at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "What do you say we keep him there and just relax?"
I grinned back at her, already imagining the scene that was about to unfold. "Sounds perfect," I agreed, taking a seat beside her.
As we settled in, Ariel began to massage her feet against each other, slowly building up intensity. Meanwhile, our slave watched nervously as she teased him with her toes. She leaned forward, placing one foot gently on his chest while the other continued to massage his face.
"This is going to be interesting," she mused, her voice echoing through the room. "I've never tried using someone's face as a footstool before." She giggled as she bounced her foot up and down on his chest, sending vibrations through his torso.
From there, the punishment escalated. Ariel took turns massaging each foot against the slave's face, sometimes gently, sometimes more forcefully. The poor guy could do nothing but lie there and take it, his face turning redder by the minute.
It was both humiliating and arousing to watch him squirm beneath her feet. I found myself growing harder just from the sight of it all. I reached over to squeeze Ariel's thigh lightly, letting her know that I was enjoying the show as much as she was.
Throughout it all, our slave remained trapped beneath our feet. He looked up at us occasionally, pleading for mercy with his eyes. But there was no escape from this punishment – not until Ariel decided that he had suffered enough.
And so we continued, using his face as a footstool for as long as we desired. It wasn't until our feet grew tired and we were ready to move on that we finally relented. We pulled our feet away from his face, allowing him to catch his breath and rise from the facebox.
As he stood there, shaking and weak from the ordeal, I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. This was exactly what he deserved – to be used and punished by us however we saw fit.
And with that thought in mind, I leaned in closer to Ariel, ready for whatever she had planned next. After all, there was always something new and exciting waiting for us in the world of foot worship and humiliation.
