As the camera rolled, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction as I watched my former tormentor squirm. Years ago, I was the one who made him feel small and insignificant. I relished in his misery and enjoyed every moment of it. But now, the tables had turned, and karma had come full circle. The once-powerful bully now found himself at my mercy, stripped of his ego and left with nothing but humiliation.
"I already embarrassed you on social, now I want you to dress like a sissy and dance around while I film it," I commanded, my voice laced with malice. "This isn't a request; it's a demand from your foot goddess. You deserve all the karma from your bully days. Do it, or I'll stomp on you."
He hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding in submission. I could tell he was scared, but he also knew better than to cross me. With a shaky breath, he began to gather the sissy outfit I'd laid out for him—a frilly pink dress, white wedge flip-flops, and a bowler hat. It was pathetic, but it suited him perfectly. He slipped everything on and stood before me, looking like a sad clown.
"Now, it's time for you to kiss and lick my lifted and wiggling toes one foot at a time with my white wedge flip-flops on," I said with a smirk. He knew what was coming next.
He fell to his knees in front of me, his face flushed with shame as he gingerly removed my sandals. His large hands trembled as he touched my delicate feet, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pleasure at seeing him like this. I wiggled my toes enticingly in front of his face, and he eagerly obliged, kissing each one passionately. His tongue darted out to taste the sweat gathering around my toes, and I couldn't help but suppress a moan.
"That's it, you pathetic sissy," I taunted. "Now, let's see some dance moves."
He stood up, his movements clumsy in the dress, and began to perform a silly dance—arms flailing, hips swaying, and feet shuffling awkwardly in the flip-flops. It was hilarious, and I reveled in every moment of it. As he twirled around, his dress billowing around him, I felt a wave of power wash over me. This was what I'd always wanted—to make him feel as small as he made me feel all those years ago.
Eventually, the dance came to an end, and I motioned for him to kneel back down in front of me. "Now it's time to pay your debt," I said, feeling bolder than ever. He knew what I meant, of course. With trembling hands, he lifted one of my white wedge flip-flops to his lips and began to kiss every inch of it, his nose buried in the soft fabric. Then, he turned his attention to my foot, lavishing it with attention, breathing in my scent and stroking my ankle gently. The sensation was intoxicating, and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy the moment.
"You're such a good sissy," I murmured, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now, do the same for your other foot."
He obliged, and I could feel my heart rate quicken. This was too much fun. The bully who once made me cry was now reduced to a sniveling, foot-worshiping mess at my feet. But as much as I enjoyed this power trip, I knew our encounter wasn't over yet. There was still more karma to be served, and I intended to make sure he got every last drop.
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