Refreshing My Sweaty Feet
As I stepped into my luxurious home, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The cool air-conditioning, the soft carpet under my feet - it all made me feel revitalized after spending the day at the outdoor pool. I stripped off my bikini and wrapped myself in a plush towel, tied securely around my body. I took a deep breath, savoring the moment before I had to face the next task at hand: cleaning and refreshing my sweaty, salty feet.
I walked into my bedroom, my stilettos clacking against the hardwood floor. The sound echoed through the room, demanding attention. My summer slippers were sitting by the door, waiting for me to put them on. They were the only thing that would touch my feet until they were perfectly clean.
I bent down, picked up the slippers, and held them out in front of me, dangling them in the air. The foot slave, who had been waiting eagerly for my arrival, scrambled forward, his hands trembling as he reached for them.
"Lick the soles of my slippers, slave," I commanded, my voice ringing out through the room.
The slave immediately dropped to his knees and planted a kiss on the soft leather of the slippers. His tongue darted out, tracing the contours of the soles as he licked them clean. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of anticipation.
"Now, worship my feet," I ordered, stepping out of my bikini and into the summer slippers. I slowly raised my sweaty, salty feet, giving the slave the perfect view of what was to come. The slave leaned forward, his face just inches away from my feet, his nostrils flaring as he took in my scent.
"You may begin," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
The slave didn't wait for permission. His tongue darted out, tracing the outline of my first toe before diving between them. I gasped, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over me. The sensation of his tongue on my skin was unlike anything else - intimate, erotic, and completely humiliating for him.
He moved his tongue up and down my arch, lapping at the sweat that had gathered there. His hands gently massaged the soles of my feet, kneading them like dough. As he worked his magic, I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.
When he finally stopped, I opened my eyes to find him gazing up at me, his eyes filled with desire. "Now," I said, my voice low and sultry, "clean the rest of my feet."
And so he did. He moved from toe to heel, using his tongue to clean every inch of my sweaty, salty feet. I felt a tingling sensation as he paid special attention to the arch of my foot, massaging it with his magic fingers.
By the time he was done, my feet were as soft as a baby's bottom. I sat down on a nearby chair, crossing my legs demurely, and admired my newly cleaned feet. The foot slave crawled over to me, his face just inches away from my slippers.
"Thank you, slave," I said, placing a hand on his head. "You've done an excellent job."
I stood up, feeling the power coursing through my veins. The foot slave watched as I walked away, his eyes following me every step of the way. As I glanced back over my shoulder, I saw him still on his knees, staring at my slippers with a mixture of lust and devotion.
And that's when I knew - I had him right where I wanted him.
