Mistress Pomf glowered down at the pathetic foot slave, her eyes narrowing in disgust as he failed to perform even the simplest of tasks. The mere sight of her feet was enough to make his heart race, but he knew better than to show any trace of desire in front of his Goddess.
"You need to be trained," she scoffed, "because you suck at being a foot slave. All you know how to do is stare at me with your jaw dropped open. Look at that disgusting face! It's like you're in awe of my feet rather than worshipping them."
Her foot twitched, inviting him to clean it, but he remained still and submissive. He knew better than to touch her foot without permission. To give in to his desires now would only lead to more punishment.
"Look at my foot," she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's got lots of calluses and a spot where a blister used to be. Do you know what? You're going to be my new pumice stone."
Without warning, Mistress Pomf kicked off her shoes and flexed her toes, each one bending and stretching as she tested their strength. The slave watched in silent awe, his heart beating faster as he anticipated what was to come.
"Start licking," she commanded, "to clean off the dirt from where I've walked."
The slave hesitated, but only for a moment. He knew better than to disobey his Goddess. Slowly, he lowered his head and extended his tongue towards her foot, savoring the sweet and slightly salty taste of her skin.
"That's it," she purred, the corners of her mouth turning up in satisfaction. "Now, lick off every single callus and blister. Make sure you don't miss a single patch of dead skin. It's your duty as my foot slave."
Hours passed, and the slave's tongue ached from the work. His neck was beginning to cramp from keeping his head at such an awkward angle for so long. But he knew better than to complain. He was here to please Mistress Pomf, and that's exactly what he would do.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mistress Pomf lifted her foot away from his hungry mouth. "You've done an okay job," she said, her voice softening slightly. "I'll give you permission to cum."
The slave's eyes widened in surprise, but he remained silent. This was not a reward; it was merely a blessing from his Goddess. He lowered his head once more and closed his eyes, anticipating her command.
"But," she continued, her voice hardening again, "you're going to cum on my command. Of yours. You don't deserve anything. You don't even deserve the pilling from my sweaty socks!"
With that, she placed one of her sweaty socks right in front of his nose, daring him to take a whiff. The scent of her sweat mingled with the sweetness of her skin, driving him to the brink of madness. But he knew better than to take what wasn't his.
"Come here with that mouth of yours!" she commanded, and the slave obeyed without hesitation.
His tongue flicked out, eager to taste the softness of her skin again. He lapped up every drop of sweat and pore, savoring the taste of his Goddess. As he felt the first waves of pleasure coursing through his body, he knew that this was what it meant to be a foot slave. To worship the feet of Mistress Pomf, no matter the task or the punishment. And in that moment, he knew that he would never be anything else.
