Summer School Pt 02 Ch 06

Hello you naughty girls and boys!

So now it's time for Tom to begin attending his Summer School. His first class begins on a Monday morning and the teacher for Monday classes is Felicia Rodriguez his Spanish teacher. Of course Tom has doubts about just what Spanish he will have to learn. He has already spent some time tending to her feet when he was hoping to pass his classes and leave the school behind him. But that was then and this is now. So let's join Tom as he arrives for his first class.

All characters in the story are 18 years of age or older.

*****

So on a Monday morning, a little past 8am, Tom found himself at the front door of the home of Ms. Felicia Rodriguez. At least that's what he hoped. Having knocked on the heavy wooden door with the ornate metal knocker, he still wasn't sure what face he would see when the door opened.

This was a nice house, a very nice house. It did have a Spanish style which would fit if it was the home of his Spanish teacher, but it looked like a lot more house than a teacher would have. Not that it screamed opulence, but it did give a sense of comfort.

The entryway put him inside the base of a sort of tower. The floor here, like the walk and the few broad, long steps was in a red tile. From his approach the tower seemed to be the tallest structure and he would say that the house seemed to be primarily one story, although he suspected some vaulted ceilings. From the outside it was white stucco walls and red tile roofing.

It wasn't out of place in this neighborhood, and that too was why he still wasn't sure he was in the right place. And it was the reason it was a little past 8am and not a few minutes before. He had started to head this way from the address and then realized it had to be another street with a similar name due to the nature of the neighborhood.

Now he was here and either this was the place, surprising as it may be, and he was a little late, or he had the wrong address and would have to come up with another way to find the house he was looking for. He was about to knock again when he heard the latch.

"Tom Marshall. So there you are, and late on your first day. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"Sorry. I had a little trouble finding the place."

"Mmmhmm."

Well he was right, after a fashion, this was in fact the home of Felicia Rodriguez, as hard as it might seem to believe. He followed her inside where the tile floors gave way to a rich wood. The walls were a yellow and cream color and much of the furniture was wood. Again he would say that 'comfort' was the word to best describe what he saw. His own home was bigger, grander, but he wondered if he wouldn't enjoy this more.

"You have a very nice house Ms. Rodriguez."

"Mi casa es mi casa."

Wasn't the line supposed to be something like 'sue's casa'? He was pretty sure the translation was about 'my house is your house' but it didn't sound right the way she said it. The look of confusion must have shown on his face, for when she turned around she looked at him and then just shook her head.

"My boy you really are going to have to learn some Spanish. At least a little."

Actually he had already decided he didn't need to learn any Spanish, but that was before he found out what he had to do to gain access to his trust in less than a year. Now he might actually have to learn some Spanish, now that he had agreed to this special Summer School.

"Sorry Ma'am."

"Well okay. Let's talk about the house for a moment and get that all cleared up and out of your system. My family is fairly wealthy. To put it simply, I work because I want to, not because I have to. My house is open to family and friends, but I don't need faculty or students treating me differently or wondering what my house looks like and how I got it. Therefore you are not to discuss my house among your friends or classmates. Is that understood?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Now in a moment I will show you briefly around some of the house. Parts of the house you will get to know quite well and others will be off limits. You'll get to know some of my friends over the course of the summer and next week I'll introduce you to my maid. I thought for our first day it would be better just to keep things between the two of us. Now just follow me."

A maid? She had a maid? She might well need someone to help her take care of a house like this but it still seemed so unreal. Ms. Rodriguez has a maid. He tried not to dwell on that as he followed her through the house, but he couldn't help but think of her differently than he had before. Every room they passed through suggested she was a different woman from the one he thought he knew.

And did we mention it was a nice house? She actually had a marbled courtyard with a sort of reflecting pool in the middle. It was both outside and inside at the same time. And then beyond that, out back, she had a swimming pool. It wasn't massive, but it was well styled and water splashed from a stone wall, and at one end there appeared to be two smaller circular forms, probably hot tubs of some design.

They ended their tour back in the kitchen. He hadn't seen it all but he had a much better feel for the place and he knew where at least two bathrooms were located. They sat on stools at the kitchen bar table.

"Now I presume you have already had breakfast today. However, in the future you may enjoy your breakfast here. It will be served shortly after eight, and since you know your way here now there's no excuse for being late. I think being late for a meal is terribly rude."

"I won't be late. Thank you Ms. Rodriguez."

"You're welcome. Now after breakfast I usually want to relax, often with a book or magazine. This is when you will be taking care of my feet. This will be a good way for both of us to start the day."

And there it was. With the nice house, the brief tour, and the way they had talked he could have forgotten that in the weeks past he had spent several hours with her feet; rubbing them, kissing them, and of course smelling them. She had mentioned Spanish this morning, but clearly that wasn't the real reason he was here.

"Now you're going to learn a lot more about a woman's feet and how to take care of them. You'll learn more about massage and even reflexology. You'll learn how to give a pedicure. You will also learn the many ways in which you can be a footstool."

Yep. There it was. Her feet came first and Spanish came second, a distant second he was sure. He had already spent some time at her feet but the mention of being a footstool proved that she was looking to take things much further than she had before.

And there was nothing he could do about it. This was only one of his summer 'classes' and he had to pass this like he had to pass all the others. He took small comfort in that he had an idea what she would ask of him and that he was much more worried about his days with Ms. Wechsbotham. He could remember the stinging pain to his backside and the tears he couldn't hold back.

"I brought my Spanish book and a notebook with me. Am I going to need these at all?"

He tried not to sound too depressed or sarcastic but it was clear he was being used. And she acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary to have someone in her house to be used as a footstool. She was almost acting like he should be happy about it.

"Well I'm sure we won't need them every time, but yes, I think it's a good idea for you to be prepared. Bring all your school supplies with you each day. We'll figure out a place for you to keep them, but for now you can just leave your pack here in the kitchen."

As he found a barstool and carefully placed his pack, so that it wouldn't fall over, Ms. Rodriguez went behind the counter and retrieved a glass and some ice and filled it with what he presumed was iced tea, adding a slice of lemon and mint. He then watched as she came back from behind the counter and realized there would be no offer of a drink for him.

"Now then, let's get started shall we. Follow me."

She then led him over to a stuffed chaise and pointed to the floor at the foot of it. She then sat down, swung out her legs, and got comfortable, picking up a magazine. Tom took his place at the end of the chaise but was having a hard time finding a way to be comfortable. He could be on his knees but he knew that wouldn't be pleasant for long, and while he could sit cross-legged that would either make him cramped against the chaise or put him too far away.

"So after breakfast I may already be barefoot, or I may be wearing slippers or shoes. If I am wearing slippers like today, your first order of business is to remove them one at a time, so remove the first and I'll explain what is next."

Tom reached out and removed the slipper from her foot, unsure why she would need fleeced slippers on a day like this. He viewed her foot along with its toe ring, a foot he had come to know. He sat, rather awkwardly, with one hand holding her slipper and staring at her foot waiting for instructions.

"You can place the slipper on the floor. You'll do this in one fluid motion, but we'll get to that soon enough. Now the next thing you want to do is lean in and smell my foot."

She wasn't serious, was she? He was quite sure he would smell enough of her foot while rubbing it and kissing it. Did he really have to take time to smell it specifically? But the look on her face said she was serious and he realized it was foolish, considering where he was and how he got there, that she could be joking in any way. He leaned forward, putting his face close to her foot and sniffed a little.

"Yes. There is so much for you to learn. Your nose needs to touch my foot. It should come to the base of my toes and ball of my foot and at my second toe or between my big toe and second toe. And then you can sniff my foot, but you should take a deeper sniff. Now let's try that again."

He was not only at her feet again but she was adding more to his duties and she was already being critical of his performance and he had done little more than remove one slipper. This was likely to be a long morning. He took a breath and steadied himself and then he leaned forward once again and this time felt her foot against his nose before he inhaled her aroma.

As expected it smelled like a foot. More than that, it smelled like a foot that had been in a fleece lined slipper. It certainly could have been worse, but he would have been happier if it smelled simply like her skin, from say her leg or arm, and didn't have an odor which said it was indeed her foot that he had placed his nose against.

He looked up at her, eager to get past this and move on with the job at hand. What was he thinking? He was eager to rub and kiss her feet? Well, yes, when compared to sniffing her foot he would rather be rubbing and kissing it. And he knew he wasn't getting out of that.

"Not too bad. You see this is very important when you take care of a woman's feet. You see a woman may feel subconscious about her feet even if they have no odor and you need to assure her that foot odor is not a problem. Or a woman may be well aware of her foot odor and you need to show respect and obedience. Either way, one of the first things you should do is sniff or smell a woman's feet before you begin to work on them."

She was acting like there was an etiquette for rubbing a woman's feet. An etiquette that required foot sniffing. It was unreal. And yet he knew she was expecting him to take note. This was something, that from her point of view, he needed to learn. And that meant he could count on sniffing her feet regularly over the weeks to come.

"Now since you are trying to comfort her and show respect, it should go without saying that you are not to make any faces which suggest disgust or disinterest. You should smell her foot with eager anticipation, as you would smell a bouquet of flowers, or baking in the kitchen. And to confirm that, you should offer a compliment."

He hadn't intended to make a face but obviously she had seen he wasn't thrilled with smelling her foot. How could he be? Now not only did he have to smell it, but he had to fake some sort of enjoyment out of it? Who could enjoy smelling feet? And what was this about a compliment? Like what? 'Why Darling, your feet smell like a milder cheese today.' Or perhaps something like 'Your feet smell like only one rotten egg and not the usual half dozen.'

"So let's try again and this time I'd like to hear a compliment."

He leaned forward once again, getting more than a whiff of her foot. It was an odor he wasn't eager to experience and yet he was coming back to it again. He wasn't really becoming accustomed to it, more like he was finding it impossible to escape, even when his nose wasn't in direct contact with her foot.

"It smells...nice."

"That was neither convincing, nor much of a compliment. For now how about you just use the phrase 'you smell like flowers' and we'll go from there. We need to move this along so that you can get to work on my feet and I can relax and read my magazine."

Tom was definitely ready to get beyond this foot smelling, and the sooner he started on her feet, the sooner he would be done with them. He also felt, after having rubbed her feet several times before, that he had a good idea of what she wanted and he wouldn't be taken to class over how to treat her feet.

"So we'll move to the second foot. Now when you remove the slipper you will keep your eyes on my foot. While placing the slipper on the floor, you will lean in and smell my foot taking a deep breath. You will then look at me and offer a compliment. This should all be one smooth, fluid motion. You may begin."

He did as instructed and removed the slipper without taking his eyes off her foot. He leaned in and put his nose to her foot, just below the toes and took a deep breath. He already knew what to expect. He then pulled away and looked into her eyes.

"You smell like flowers."

"What a nice thing to say."

Of course it is exactly what she had just told him to say, but apparently he had done it to her satisfaction. He had done his best to remember all her instructions and make it all one motion. He felt like he was doing some kind of dance or performance art. Like perhaps he was a character in a play who had a thing for feet. Probably because he was acting like he enjoyed this.

"You may begin now. We'll cover more later. Right now I want to enjoy my drink and my magazine."

And so Tom went back to what he knew, or at least what he thought he knew. He began to knead and rub her feet. He would squeeze here and press there. He would work his fingers and thumbs in various grips and strokes. And without much effort, he would be smelling her feet.

It was some time later, after he had been working tirelessly on her feet, that she paused in her reading to address him. At first she paused, putting down her magazine, and just watched him work. He felt scrutinized but she wasn't showing signs of disapproval or giving him any additional instructions. He worked that way for several minutes before she spoke.

"I think it's time we covered another basic to proper foot care. And before we begin, let me just say that while you're getting better at massaging my feet there hasn't been much kissing so far."

Well he was happy that she was pleased with his work. At the same time he was worried given her mention of kissing. He hadn't been kissing her feet. In the past that had been required of him but it was usually at the end when he was finishing that she made him kiss her toes and sole. Now she was suggesting he should have been doing some of that along the way.

"So we mustn't forget the kissing, but there is another crucial ingredient that should always take place when serving a woman's feet. Licking."

Did she say licking? Please tell me she didn't say licking. Just rubbing them was humiliating. Smelling them was unpleasant and further humiliating. Kissing them meant touching them, almost tasting them, with lips and was an indication of who was in charge. But licking? Actually putting one's tongue on someone else's feet. That just couldn't be.

After staring at her feet, unable to fully imagine the possibility, he looked up and into her face. And there he realized she was smiling and maybe even holding back a laugh as she watched him come to terms with what she had just said.

"Yes, my boy. Licking is a requirement."

He looked back at her feet. He wasn't sure he could do that. He really wasn't sure. He knew he was in a spot and there was much more to come from his 'classes' but he just wasn't sure if he could actually put his tongue to this woman's feet.

"So, take a deep breath and prepare yourself if you must. Then I want you to stick out your tongue and lick the bottom of my foot."

He did take a deep breath. And then he took another, and another. He held her foot in his hand looking at the sole as if he had never seen it before. He had become familiar with her feet but this was a whole other level. He moved his tongue in his mouth and even licked his lips, but he just couldn't bring himself to stick out his tongue.

"You're going to have to do this, and not just this once. Now you can be a good boy and do as I say the first time, or I can send word to Ms. Wechsbotham that you have been misbehaving on your first day of class. What's it to be?"

It looked like there was no way out. She was insistent that he lick her foot. And if that wasn't bad enough, she had mentioned Ms. Wechsbotham. Tom was already worried about meeting her again and what she might have planned for him. He certainly didn't need to give her any excuses that would result in a more severe punishment.

He considered her foot as well as the paddling he had received a few short weeks before. He leaned forward as his jaw dropped open. He looked up at Ms. Rodriguez and saw a look on her face of belabored expectancy. His eyes dropped, unable to hold her gaze, and slowly, oh so slowly his tongue extended out of his mouth.

It had extended slowly, but retracted in a split second reflexively as the tip of his tongue made contact with the sole of her foot. She didn't say anything. She just waited patiently, knowing that he had no choice but to comply with her demand. And so once again his tongue stretched out to her foot.

This time he was able to halt his tongue's retreat, but it still made only temporary contact with the sole of her foot. He didn't know quite what to think, but he realized that some dark corner of his mind was actually curious about what it would be like to lick her foot. When his tongue came out again he successfully made a small lick in the center of her sole.

In the days before when he was bargaining for his grade he found it unbelievable that she expected him to rub her feet. Worse still was when she had demanded kisses from him on her feet as well. That was nothing compared to licking her bare foot. But he had done it; he had just licked her foot.

Still he couldn't escape the simple fact that it was a foot. It was a woman's foot. He had licked Ms. Rodriguez's foot, as if somehow she was so superior and he was some wretched servant or slave. It was humiliating, degrading, and in that moment he knew it was intentional.

"Again."

It was all she said. Because it was all she needed to say. She knew, as he knew, that he would have to obey her. He had no choice. The thought that she was enjoying his subservience made his actions even more difficult, but it didn't keep his tongue from making another quick pass along her sole.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to it soon enough. Now I want you to start at the heel, make your tongue broad and flat, and lick all the way up to my toes."

He hadn't even considered she would have specific directions for how he used his tongue. Nor had he considered that she would ask for such a large and long lick of her sole. He moved down to her heel and as the tip of his tongue made contact, he made an effort to flatten his tongue before making the long trek from her heel to her toes.