Aura's Indulgent Day Ends with a Footstool Slave
Aura, dressed in all black, returned home from the hairdresser in high spirits. Her new haircut accentuated her sharp features, making her look even more striking as she walked into the room. She plopped down onto the couch, feeling the soft fabric against her skin, and sighed contently. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, including her unwilling footstool slave lying at her feet.
Ignoring him for now, Aura picked up her phone and began scrolling through social media, lost in her own world. The sun's rays streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. As she continued to ignore her slave, she couldn't help but notice how his face seemed to be pressing deeper into the floor. An amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she realized she had been using him as an impromptu footstool without even realizing it.
With a shrug, Aura decided to make the most of the situation. She shifted her weight onto one foot, pressing her heel down hard on his nose. He let out a muffled groan, but she hardly noticed. She was too caught up in the feeling of power that coursed through her veins. His face was now at the perfect level for her to rest her feet on, and she did so often, forgetting about him for minutes at a time.
As the afternoon wore on, Aura grew tired of using her slave as a footstool. She stood up, stretching her arms above her head, and walked over to the window. She stared out at the world outside, lost in thought. Behind her, the slave remained where he was, his face still pressed against the floor. A small part of her felt guilty for using him in such a way, but she pushed those feelings aside. After all, he was just a house slave, and she was his Mistress.
Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She turned back around and walked over to him. Bending down, she placed one foot on his back and used it to push him onto his stomach. He groaned loudly, but she didn't care. She had a new plan for him. As he lay there, his face pressed against the floor, she grinned. He might be a house slave, but he was her house slave, and she could do whatever she wanted with him.
With a final glance at her phone, Aura made her way to the bedroom, leaving her footstool slave lying forgotten on the floor. As she closed the door behind her, she couldn't help but feel content. Another day in the life of Aura, and her poor, unwitting footstool slave.
