Feetilious Demands Footworship
Lady Feetilious, the reigning queen of sensual foot domination, sat upon her throne, her perfectly manicured toes dangling invitingly before her. She was dressed in a regal gown that hugged her curves, accentuating her every movement. Her footboy, kneeling at her feet, trembled in anticipation of her command.
"Footboy," she purred, her voice like silk. "It's time you reminded yourself who you serve."
With a flick of her wrist, she sent the trembling footboy sprawling onto the floor. He landed with a soft thud, his eyes wide with fear and desire.
"Now, get back here," she commanded, her voice now cold and commanding. "And do as you're told."
The footboy scrambled back to his knees, his heart racing. He knew what was coming next, and yet he couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through him at the thought of pleasing his mistress.
Lady Feetilious leaned forward, her skirt rising to reveal the smooth, pale expanse of her thighs. Slowly, she extended her foot, the glossy black pump gleaming in the candlelight. "Begin," she ordered.
The footboy hesitated for just a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her foot, feeling the heat from her skin against his own. He licked slowly, savoring the sweet scent of her perfume as he traced the contours of her foot with his tongue.
As he worked his way up her calf, Lady Feetilious let out a soft moan, her head tilting back in pleasure. "That's it," she breathed. "You're doing a good job, footboy."
Her words spurred the footboy on, and he redoubled his efforts, lapping at her skin like a hungry dog. He nuzzled his face against her foot, feeling the soft whisper of silk against his cheek.
Under his careful ministrations, Lady Feetilious's breath came faster, her toes curling in delight. She reached down and ran her fingers through his hair, guiding his movements with gentle urgency.
Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she pulled her foot away with a small cry of pleasure. "Enough," she gasped, though it was clear from the look in her eyes that she wanted more.
The footboy rose to his feet, his own body trembling with desire and accomplishment. "You may go," she said, her voice a husky whisper. "But remember who you serve."
With a nod, the footboy backed away from her throne, his heart still racing. As he left the room, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of request she would make next. But he knew that he would be there, kneeling at her feet, ready to please her in any way she desired.
