Collared and Compelled: A Tale of Foot Worship
Sweat trickled down my back as I knelt before Miss Amy Samuels, my gaze fixed on her glistening feet. She was a striking woman, tall and curvy with an aura that demanded attention. Her feet were adorned in black high heels, the perfect contrast to her porcelain skin. I was collared and leashed, my neck clad in a black leather collar that bore the initials 'M.A.S.' in silver. It was a symbol of my submission to her, and I wore it with pride.
Miss Amy's eyes were a deep blue, filled with both lust and control. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the delicate curves of her stockings. It was clear that she was enjoying this power trip, and I was her willing pawn.
"I've never seen a foot as beautiful as yours, Miss Amy," I whispered, my voice quivering with anticipation. "Would you allow me the honor of worshiping them?"
Miss Amy's lips curved into a wicked grin. "I think that's an excellent idea, slave," she purred, her voice like velvet over my skin. She snapped her fingers, and a small black box appeared on her desk. She opened it, revealing a set of black leather cuffs. With a smirk, she fastened one cuff around my left ankle and the other around my right wrist, binding my arms to my sides.
"Now," she said, her tone low and seductive, "you may begin."
I leaned forward, my face inches from her feet. The smell of her perfume was intoxicating, and I couldn't help but breathe it in deeply. My tongue darted out, tracing the line of her big toe before moving down to the ball of her foot. I lapped at her arch like a hungry dog, savoring the taste of her skin.
Miss Amy groaned, her fingers tangling in my hair. "Oh yes," she moaned, "that's it, slave. You are so talented with your tongue."
I nibbled on her heel, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from her. I felt her foot curl against my cheek, demanding more attention. I obliged, kissing and sucking every inch of her foot, from the toes to the heel. The leather cuffs bit into my wrists, but I barely noticed the discomfort. All that mattered was the intoxicating aroma of her skin and the feel of her feet against mine.
"That's enough for now," she said, sitting up straighter in her chair. "But remember, slave, my feet are always here for your worship."
I looked up at her, my face flushed with desire. "Thank you, Miss Amy," I murmured, my voice shaking with emotion. "I will never tire of worshiping your feet."
She gave me a small smile, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "See that you don't," she said, unclipping the leash from my collar. "Now, get up and get dressed. We have more work to do."
I stood slowly, my legs wobbly from the intense sensations I had just experienced. As I walked towards the door, I couldn't help but glance back at her, my heart filled with both love and lust for the woman who held so much power over me.
