by foot slave zerO
I have a very strong foot fetish and one of the divorced women in my apartment complex, Robyn in 104, allows me the pleasure of worshiping her feet on a regular basis. Robyn loves the sense of feminine supremacy that comes from having a man at her feet. From the very beginning, she could instinctively sense in me the desire to submit. Robyn knew how desperately I wanted to become her foot slave, and that I would endure mistreatment to earn a place at her feet. Robyn expects me to plan my schedule around hers and be available at a minute’s notice, whenever it is convenient to her. Robyn is extremely short tempered and, if I displease her, she will not hesitate to curse me and slap my face
For the past few months, Robyn has been using me as her “personal foot cleaner.” Arriving home this afternoon after a busy day, Robyn telephoned me and told me to come over to her apartment immediately because her feet were dirty and needed to be cleaned. This is almost always true because Robyn rarely wears shoes. During the spring and summer, she goes barefoot everywhere. Robyn’s feet are remarkably soft and quite attractive in spite of their constant exposure to rough terrain. It thrills me to worship her feet, regardless of their condition.
I had really been looking forward to Robyn’s call. She has been quite pleased with my services of late and had promised to reward me with “gratification” on my next visit. No sooner did I arrive than Robyn made herself comfortable in her favorite chair and lit a cigarette. There is no pretense to our relationship and I knew that she intended to use my tongue like a door mat.
Robyn ordered me to lie at her feet in a supine position. She then crossed her shapely legs and extended a bare foot toward me so that its sole was inches from my face. I gazed at the bottoms of Robyn’s feet and could see they were absolutely black with filth. She had apparently spent the entire day walking through dirt, treading over grime, and trampling whatever muck lie in her path.
"Show me your tongue, slave!" Robyn demanded.
I obediently thrust my tongue out as far as humanly possible, holding it steady so Robyn could use it to clean her feet. Pressing her heel onto my tongue, Robyn then slid her foot downward, wiping the length of her sole on my tongue. An impious smile crossed her face as she leisurely cleaned the filthy soles of her feet with my tongue. Occasionally she paused to have me scrape my tongue clean with my teeth and swallow the gritty dirt.
I cannot say that I enjoy the taste of dirt but to be at Robyn’s feet this way, so thoroughly at her command, is so thrilling that it transforms even the flavor of dirt into sort of a gourmet treat. Robyn was still wiping her foot clean on my tongue when her cell phone rang. The caller was some guy named Leroy, and Robyn seemed very happy to hear from him.
“Tonight?” she told him. “Sure, I’d love to.”
Then Robyn settled back into her chair and started working her filthy feet up and down my face and in and out of my mouth. I knew what was expected of me and started actively licking her feet from heel to toe as she chatted on the phone. After a couple minutes, she put Leroy on hold.
“I have a date tonight,” she told me. “You had better make it quick, but I promised you, so go ahead and jack off for me.”
It was a bit of a disappointment since I had been hoping for something a bit more intimate than masturbation. I started to respond, but Robyn silenced me by stuffing her soiled toes into my mouth. I desperately needed relief, so I opened my fly and took out my rock-hard penis. I felt like a fool playing with myself under these circumstances, but I was soon contentedly masturbating as I sucked her toes clean.
“No, sweetie, I wasn’t doing anything important,” Robyn was saying into the phone,” but I do have to take a shower and get dressed before you pick me up. You don’t want me to still be naked when you get here, do you?”
She laughed at his response and lit another cigarette. It was truly a humiliating experience to be used by Robyn this way. She was flirting with this guy on the telephone and leisurely having a cigarette, while I was lapping the filth from her feet and stroking my erection with increasing passion.
“You’ll just have to wait and see if I wear panties,” she was telling him coyly.
Within three minutes my passion had reached its apex and I was masturbating furiously. I could not control myself any longer. I came, moaning and whimpering with orgasmic ecstasy. Robyn pressed her foot firmly over my mouth to stifle my sounds of gratification.
“Okay, sweetie,” she said into the phone. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
After ending her conversation, Robyn glared down at me angrily. “You mother-fucking asshole,” she sneered. “I was trying to talk on the god dammed phone. Do you have to groan like a fucking pig?”
I was so weak and spent; I could barely get to my knees. I must have looked like a drooling moron there on the floor in front of Robin. There was semen all over the front of my shirt and her foot dirt, now turned to mud, was smeared all over my face. My mouth was permeated with the filth I had lapped from the soles of her feet. She crushed out her cigarette in the ashtray, roughly grabbed me by the hair, and slapped my face so hard that tears came to my eyes. The force of the blow was stunning and I actually saw stars.
“You’ve had your little thrill,” Robyn told me, rising to her feet and standing over me. “Now stick that damned thing back in your pants and get outta here!”
Robyn was laughing with rich enjoyment as I went out the door. I felt thoroughly degraded and humiliated, but knew I would come running the next time she called. Robyn knew it, too.
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