"You posted my pictures online?" Queen Niki bursts through the door, her 5'10" frame clad in white booty shorts and a crop top that accentuates her perfect waist and long legs. She shoves her phone in his face, her anger palpable. "I saw all of the pictures you posted of me online, you fucking pig!"
His face pales as he starts stammering excuses, but she cuts him off with a glare. "I'm going to show these to your wife and boss, and I'm calling the police." He drops to his knees, begging her not to, whining about his probation. "I'll do anything!" he sobs.
She smirks down at him, crossing her arms. "Oh, we'll see about that. Put your hands behind your back." As he hesitates, she snaps, "Did I tell you to speak? Shut up!" She grabs his wrists, tying them behind his back with his own exercise bands. "You don't deserve to see my perfect body." With that, she yanks a blindfold over his eyes, plunging him into darkness. "You're gonna be my chair," she declares, straddling his chest and lowering her booty shorts-covered ass onto his nose and mouth. He gags and squirms, but she grinds down harder. "Because you're so far beneath me."
She turns around, now smothering him with her booty shorts-covered pussy, using his thighs as a footrest while he chokes on her scent. "You're gonna learn how to respect women," she growls, shifting her weight to cut off his air. "You want to treat women's bodies like objects? You're gonna find out what it feels like to be objectified, you fucking pig!"
She peels off her sweaty socks, days old and reeking. "Smell my stinky sweaty feet," she commands, shoving one into his face. "How do those socks taste? I've been wearing them for days." He gags at the smell, but she rubs it all over his face, making him inhale deeply. "Now suck my sweaty, stinky feet clean, pig boy," she orders, pulling the sock off and pressing her bare foot against his lips. "That's all you're good for."
"Stick out your tongue," she demands, "so I can wipe my feet on it." As he obeys, she scrubs her soles across his tongue. "You're just a doormat." She spreads her toes apart, pinching his nose with them. "Take it, pig," she sneers, jamming her foot down his throat until he gags repeatedly.
She makes him get on the ground, using him as her carpet as she walks on his body. He grunts in pain, but she ignores him, putting a foot in his face. "You're not done yet, foot pig." She steps on his chest, causing his knees to buckle underneath him, and sits on his body, using his knees as a backrest. "Open your mouth, doormat," she commands, shoving her entire foot down his throat. "Good bitch," she purrs, pushing it deeper and deeper as he gags and gags.
She puts a foot behind his head, using it for leverage to cram her foot even deeper. "Get my foot farther down your throat." Finally, she pulls her foot out, leaving him gasping. "I'm going to change," she says, standing over him, "and when I come back, you're going to learn a new lesson in serving me."
He lies there in despair, his body aching and his stomach churning from the stench of her feet. He knows he has made a terrible mistake, and he has no idea what she has planned next. All he can do is wait and pray for her mercy.
