Mias Erotic Story

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters involved in sexual activity are at least 18 years old. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. Of course, if your name is Mia or Eric, please feel free to pretend this is about you.

Mia

Eric was always too eager. Like a puppy with a foot fetish and zero self-control.

I didn't mind, though. There was something delicious about having that kind of power over someone. The way his eyes dropped the moment I kicked off my heels. The silence in his throat when I pressed a pedicured toe against his lips and raised an eyebrow.

He knew what to do. I didn't have to say it.

But I liked to say it anyway.

"Down," I told him that night. "Like the bitch you are."

He dropped without hesitation, knees hitting the rug like it was a fucking prayer mat. The room still smelled like jasmine and leather--my candles, my boots. My scent.

He trembled when I raised my right leg and slowly peeled off my sheer black sock. Toe by toe. I could see his cock twitch in his jeans just from that. Pathetic. Predictable.

Perfect.

"You've been such a good little footslut lately," I purred, crossing one leg over the other, letting my bare foot hover just out of reach. "But you still need to earn it."

His throat clicked. "Yes, Mistress."

God, I loved that tone in his voice. Half-despair, half-desire. A flavor you could only get from complete submission.

I wiggled my toes. "Open your mouth."

He obeyed.

And I stuffed my toes in. Just like that.

The moan he made? Instant. Wet. Grateful. Like he'd just been force-fed divinity.

"Clean them." I didn't need to say more. His tongue was already swirling, lapping between each toe like it was sacred.

I dug my heel into his chest. "Slower. This isn't a race. This is worship. Understand?"

He nodded, mouth full of my foot, eyes wide and teary.

I loved how he looked when he was like this--red cheeks, spit on his chin, the faintest humiliation smeared across his face like an aura.

I leaned back in the velvet chair, spreading my legs a bit. My other foot pressed hard against his groin. "You're hard. Did I say you could get hard?"

"N-No, Mistress."

I rolled my ankle and grinded my sole into his bulge. He whimpered. I grinned.

"Pathetic. I didn't even let you kiss my sole yet and you're already leaking."

He groaned. He loved being called pathetic. Of course he did. That's why I didn't always give it to him. You don't feed a dog a treat for nothing. But tonight?

Tonight, he had been patient. He'd brought me my coffee just the way I liked it. He polished all my heels. He even remembered to line up my foot oils by fragrance strength.

That kind of devotion deserves a little cruelty.

I yanked my foot out of his mouth with a satisfying wet pop and dragged it down his face, across his lips, his jaw, until my heel pressed against his throat.

"You want to come, don't you?"

"Yes, Mistress, please."

I slipped my foot lower, toes curling under his chin. "Then beg. With your tongue still on my foot."

He didn't even hesitate.

"Mmph... please... Mistress Mia, I need it... I'll do anything. I'm yours. Just let me..."

"Just let you?" I tilted my head. "Did I say you were allowed?"

His eyes widened in panic. He almost answered wrong. That was close.

"No, Mistress. I--I'm not allowed."

"That's right." I rubbed my heel in circles over his cock, still trapped in those useless jeans. "But maybe, if you really show me how much you worship me... I'll let you hump the floor while I use you."

The noise he made? Guttural. Almost canine.

I pulled both feet up, resting them on his shoulders, letting the scent of my soles drive him insane. "Lick," I ordered. "Top to bottom. Slowly. And thank me after every toe."

He got to work. And I sat back, glass of red wine in hand, letting him soak in the reality of his place.

At my feet.

Exactly where he belonged.

Mia

I sipped my wine slowly while he kissed every toe like it was the first time. His tongue was so delicate, so reverent, like he thought my foot might vanish if he wasn't careful enough.

"Say it," I told him, curling my toes against his lips. "Say what you are."

He blinked up at me, lips wet. "I'm... I'm your footslut, Mistress."

I smiled.

"And what else?"

His voice was softer now, like the truth was scraping out of his throat. "I'm your property. Your pet. Your thing."

I let my foot rest against his cheek, giving him a tiny moment of softness, a false sense of comfort--before dragging my heel down the side of his face. "Damn right, you are."

Then I leaned forward, reached for my phone on the side table, and turned the screen toward him.

"You think you've been doing well, but no," I said, sliding to a bookmarked clip. "You've only scratched the surface. You still have so much to learn about true obedience."

His eyes flicked up to mine--hesitant. Nervous. Turned on.

"You're going to watch this," I purred, tilting the screen so he could see a thumbnail: a high-quality, cruel little clip of a submissive crawling, naked, licking his Mistress's boots like it was salvation. "Start to finish. No skipping. No cumming. Hands behind your back."

He nodded quickly, swallowing thickly. "Yes, Mistress."

"Oh, and one more thing," I added, placing my sole back onto his chest, pressing him flat to the floor with the gentle authority of a Goddess.

"You're going to thank me afterward. In writing. Three paragraphs. Tell me exactly what you learned. What you still lack. And why you'll never be worthy--but want to serve anyway."

His breathing quickened. I could see his cock twitch, trapped and aching in his jeans. I wasn't going to let him touch it. Not tonight. Not until I said so.

"You're not going to cum until I say so," I whispered, watching the color drain from his face and the lust swell in his pupils. "And I might not say it for days."

I bent over, letting my hair brush his face. My foot slid down between his legs again, barely grazing his erection.

"Now," I said, voice low and lethal. "Open your mouth and say thank you."

He opened wide.

"Thank you, Mistress Mia."

I placed my toes inside again, letting him suck while I queued up the clip on his screen. "Good boy," I cooed. "Now watch. Learn. And remember: you're mine."