Feet First: A Slave's Obsession
As I stepped into the room, my new slave's eyes widened in anticipation. He knelt before me, his gaze fixed on my feet clad in brand new white sneakers - Shox. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip, an unspoken plea for permission. I smiled and nodded, watching as he reached for my shoes.
His trembling hands grazed over the smooth leather as he slowly pulled off my right shoe. The scent of freshly washed socks filled the air as he revealed my sweaty white terry socks beneath. Without being told, he leaned forward, inhaling deeply through his nose. His eyes closed in bliss as the scent invaded his senses.
Without any further prompting, he pressed his nose against the soft fabric, breathing in deeply. His hands began to move up my calves, massaging and caressing my skin as he worshipped my feet. Each touch was filled with reverence and adoration.
I watched, amused by his devotion. It was clear that this was no ordinary foot fetish - it was a deep-seated obsession. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized the power I held over him. "You are mine to command," I whispered softly.
His eyes snapped open, his face filled with an almost holy reverence. "Yes, master," he breathed, his voice barely audible. A flicker of excitement danced in my eyes as I pushed him further.
"Remove my other shoe," I commanded, my voice steady and firm. Without hesitation, he reached for my left shoe, his hands shaking with anticipation. As he pulled it off, revealing the other sock-covered foot, I could see the lustful hunger in his eyes.
"Now," I said, my voice a low growl, "lick between my toes."
His tongue darted out, tracing the line of my big toe before diving into the crevice between them. I felt the warmth of his breath on my skin as he lapped at my toes, his tongue caressing every inch of my foot. The sensation was exquisite, and I felt myself grow wet with desire.
"You are my slave," I whispered, my voice thick with lust. "You exist to please me, to worship my feet."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving my feet. "Yes, master," he murmured, his voice little more than a whisper.
I stood up, allowing him to trail his lips down my calves, kissing each inch of exposed skin. His tongue flicked out, tasting the sweat that dotted my legs. As he reached the floor, his head bowed in submission.
I walked around, enjoying the view of my feet reflected in his adoring gaze. The power I felt over him was intoxicating, and I knew that I could make him do anything I desired.
"Stand up," I commanded, my voice once again steady and firm.
Slowly, he rose to his feet, his head held high. I watched as he struggled to keep his eyes off my feet, the urge to worship them almost too much to bear.
"You are an exceptional slave," I told him, my voice a soft whisper. "Your devotion to my feet is unmatched."
His eyes lit up at the praise, and he bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, master," he murmured.
I nodded, satisfied with his response. "I will remember your service. Now, return my shoes to their proper place."
Without hesitation, he bent down and picked up my shoes, placing them carefully at my feet. His hands trembled slightly as he straightened up, his eyes never leaving my feet.
"You may go," I said, waving him away.
He bowed deeply before turning and walking away, his steps heavy with the weight of his arousal. I watched as he left the room, a small smile playing at the corners of my lips. I knew that I would never tire of this power, of the worship I inspired.
Feet First: A Slave's Obsession.
