She’s making more than I do in a full day at the office, by just having some guy lick her shoes like a dog. Because the idea of shoving my face against the insole and breathing Holly’s sweat in – while literally paying for the privilege – arouses me to no end. I stop cold, and turn back to face her, hoping my cheeks aren’t as noticeably reddened as I fear they are. And on some level, I realise it’s training me to associate Holly, and Holly’s feet, with the ability to rule. Even from Holly’s rudimentary and shoddy pics, it is clear they are stained with countless hours of her foot sweat.

My movement range is severely limited by Holly's own boots, so I mostly lie passively and let her shoes have their way with my face. My knees are getting sore from the cold tile floor beneath me, and Holly's feet are just out of reach, perched up on the kitchen table.Having a foot fetish just means that you're turned on by feet, and the kink often involves a psychological element of domination and humiliation, Ghose says. When Frank leaves for the night, the old warmth is there in his hug and his kiss, and I already feel better about myself. It's important to enforce the divide between people who actually own the place, and the household servitude, as she explains.

And of course I'll do it, because I'm snared, beaten, and maybe most importantly, a lesbian cuck pet at heart.This is really at the level of the best stories I've read so far, because, at least for me, the inner psychological questioning and movements that lead to a D/s situation to happen are actually as sexy, if not more, than the actual scene. I grab the bag with her brand-new ankle boots, paid with my hard-earned money, and join her outside, handing her the bag.

I suck each toe individually - the sweaty taste is gone, thanks to the tongue bath I provided earlier, and any remaining toe jam has long since been scooped into my mouth - but this hardly matters to my devastated cuckquean brain, which is completely fried at this point. I let the crushing, serpentine spires of my own demise clench around me until my resistance breaks completely, and I lie limply in their embrace. But a part of me still finds it shocking that Holly thinks she’s good enough to deserve to stick her feet in people’s faces, much less than other people seem to agree with this. Who would willingly debase herself like this, admit an older rival's superiority, embrace it with such zealous, slavish submission? To drive the point home even further, I keep my hands obediently behind my back, even though my sex is on fire by now.A mockery of everything I believe in: honest work, earning your dues, taking control of your destiny. The only way she could keep from starving was to constantly pull food into her mouth by drinking the ocean, and because she never learned she was massive, she is likely unaware that her primary sustenance has been entire sailing ships.

Shrunk by your girlfriend she uses you to test the physical and mental boundaries of what you can endure as a tiny. I might as well take the opportunity to do something I’ve been procrastinating forever, and visit the mall.

The combination of her foot scent, and her sweat now accumulating on my tongue, is making me feel heady, almost like it's an alcoholic concoction. My head in the clouds, I leave my bag on a chair in the kitchen, and then peek inside the living room.