Lena, the Goddess of Foot worship, carefully selected her next slave. He was to be trained in the art of pleasing a woman's feet, and she had high standards. She led him into a dimly lit room, where he saw several other slaves kneeling before her, their eyes locked on her feet.
"This will be your new home, slave," she said, her voice dripping with authority. "Your only purpose here is to please my feet and make them feel good."
Her gaze fell on the dirty leather shoes he was wearing, and she nodded in satisfaction. She pulled him closer and looked into his eyes.
"You see these shoes, slave?" she purred. "They have been walking the streets all day long, collecting dirt and grime. And it's your job to make them sparkle."
She yanked on the leash, pulling him towards a sink. She placed his head on the edge of the sink and turned on the water, letting it run over his hands.
"You see this," she said, holding up a scrub brush. "Use it to scrub my shoes clean. And don't you dare miss a spot."
He nodded, understanding that failure would not be tolerated. He began scrubbing the shoes, feeling the gritty dirt give way under the bristles of the brush. The smell of sweat and dirt filled the air, but he didn't mind. All that mattered was pleasing his Mistress.
After what seemed like hours, the shoes were finally clean. He held them up to the light, admiring his handiwork. He looked up at Lena, who was now seated on a throne-like chair, her feet resting on a footstool. He knew what was coming next.
"Come here, slave," she commanded.
He knelt before her, his eyes fixed on her feet. She slowly lifted one foot off the stool, giving him a better view of her arch and instep. He could see the sweat on her skin, and he could almost taste it. He leaned forward, his lips close to her skin, but didn't dare make the first move.
"Don't be shy," she said, her voice soothing. "Your tongue was made for this."
And with those words, she placed her foot gently on his head, guiding his face closer to her skin. He took a deep breath and began to explore her foot with his tongue, tracing every contour and crevice. He could feel her foot flexing against his tongue, encouraging him to do better.
As he worked, he could feel her foot getting wetter and wetter. She was pleased with his work and rewarded him by spitting into his mouth. It was a mixture of saliva and sweat, but he didn't mind. It was a sign of her approval.
For hours, he worshipped her feet, exploring every inch of her skin with his tongue. As he grew tired, Lena would take a break, allowing him to catch his breath and regain his strength. But the moment he stopped, she would be back on his head, pushing him to do better.
As the sun began to set, Lena stood up, signaling the end of their session. She unhooked the leash from his neck and led him to a small area in the corner of the room. She pointed to a small pile of rags on the floor.
"Clean yourself up, slave," she said, her voice stern. "You'll be needed again soon."
The slave did as he was told, cleaning the sweat and dirt from his body with the rags. As he finished, he looked up at Lena, hoping for some sign of approval. She simply nodded and left the room, leaving him to wonder what would come next.
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