My wife and I had been having lots of fun over the last year discovering this new kink in our married life.She found real sexual satisfaction out of the simple domination of me and the ability to control every aspect of my pleasure. Me, submissive and subservient to her and her feet.
In public, everything was normal and you never would have had a clue - nobody aside from our friends, Stephanie and Matt, would have any inkling of my submission or proclivity for feet. But, behind closed doors, my wife held the keys to my pleasure.
Her authority and ability to control me - to reward me or deny me release - had continued to grow, too. Not every worship session resulted in orgasm. Well, not for me, at least. The domination and toe sucking had taken her to new heights of ecstasy. Her fingers would often make a path across the silky wet lips of her labia, sending her into convulsions that radiated down her body and through her extremities. I found that my mouth pressed into the arch of her foot gave her the most intense reaction.
For me, however, she could make me go days without orgasm as she relished in my sexual frustration, forcing me to clean up every drop of pearlescent precum that made its way out of the tip of my throbbing erection. I loved the anticipation, the build up, and the sleepless nights. The precum combined with the taste of sweat between her toes after a gym session or the salty sweet taste contrasted against that of her freshly washed feet straight out of the shower.
This worked in her favor, too. Now that society had re-normalized during the pandemic, her company was now asking her to return to travel. This required her to spend three or four days at a time out of town several weeks per month. Flying out on a Monday or Tuesday, returning on a Thursday or Friday, it required a lot of patience on my part. And, you know she made sure that I didn't cum while she was gone, too; wanting me to reserve it all for a special Friday or Saturday foot worship and fucking session. And, like a good foot slave, I eagerly cleaned up after myself and savored every last drop. But, that's a story for another time...
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This is a story about Abby, our recently divorced 29 year old neighbor. She had piercing blue eyes cast against her warm ivory skin and black brown hair. Only 5'2" tall, she was quite petite. The house next door went up for sale late last spring and sold within a matter of hours; there wasn't even time to put a "for sale" sign in the front yard. The next month, a moving truck arrived along with this beautiful petite woman.
Abby and my wife became fast friends, bonding over their love of wine, suspense novels, music, and home decor. It was actually rare when they didn't spend time together. Truth be told, I didn't mind. I found Abby to be genuine and fun. Even I enjoyed spending time with them. Granted, I was just a secondary friendship to my wife, but Abby and I got along, too. We often all hung out together, sitting with neighbors, enjoying adult refreshment on a Friday or Saturday night until well after the sun went down.
Plus, simply put, she was hot. Abby is a nurse, and I'm a sucker for a woman in uniform. But, more than that, if she wasn't working, she was wearing flip flops. Oh, how I love seeing her size six bare feet with flip flops dangling between her toes, nails always perfectly painted - sometimes white, occasionally vibrantly red, but usually some shade of blue. It was clear that she took very good care of them.
She had impossibly slender ankles; shapely and proportionate to her body, but on their own they seemed quite delicate. Her toes were deceivingly meaty. Certainly not in an unpleasant way - you could clearly make out the joints within, but they all rested together, precious little space between each digit. The big toe and second toe were nearly the same length while the rest of them cascaded down. Overall, it was one of the top pairs of feet that I had ever seen firsthand.
I knew that my wife knew I enjoyed studying them, too. It had to be clear to her. The way she immediately scoped out my affinity for Stephanie's on the camping trip, she knew from day one that Abby's feet were high up on my list. But, to her credit, she didn't say anything. Knowing her, she thoroughly enjoyed the intense suffering I felt that loomed quietly in my brain. How I wish I could lay my hands, my lips, or my tongue on those feet. Yes, I guarantee my wife was fully aware.
I never once jerked off to mental image of those feet, though. Maybe once or twice I envisioned them as I sucked my wife's toes, but I was too beholden to my goddess's feet to dwell on it for long.
Occasionally, Abby and my wife would go for an after work or weekend jog through the neighborhood and around the park just down the road. Often they would return to our house, kicking off their running shoes and slipping off their socks at the front door, moving to the kitchen for refreshment. I would be lying if I didn't admit to sneaking a sniff of those shoes and socks, too. Inhaling the sweaty but not-quite-vinegar scent that her feet produced.
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My wife was set to leave for a work trip on Sunday afternoon to attend a trade show that began first thing on Monday morning. This was her biggest work trip of the year - one that would keep her away for nearly the entire week. But, it was also the one that made her and her company a lot of money.
She told me she was going upstairs to finish packing for her trip the next day but that she would be right back. While she did, I sat down in the den flipping through the top news on Twitter. Shortly after, though, I see her walking back down the stairs, black heeled pumps leading the way, a skimpy silken knee length robe pretending to cover her body.
"Put your phone down and take those clothes off" she said. "We need to talk, and I need your full attention."
As she sat down, I rose off the couch and took my shirt off, loosened my belt and allowed my pants to drop to the floor. She assisted by pulling my boxers down off my hips before I slipped completely out of them, now standing naked in front of her. My cock began to get aroused, having last cum on Tuesday. Tonight felt like my last chance for a week.
"Down," she said, pointing at the floor in front of her.
I knelt, and as I did, focused my attention down her magnificent tanned body to the feet straining in her shoes. Heels weren't my favorite, but they made her feel sexy and powerful, so who am I to argue?
She lifted her feet to the couch and sat lengthwise across, her shift caused the robe to slip open, exposing her left breast.
"With me leaving tomorrow, you'll be on your own for the week. You know what that means, right?"
"I do, goddess. No cum until you're back."
"That's right," she said. And motioned for me to remove her shoes; a request I happily obliged, exposing her now completely bare feet and French tipped toes, faint creases noting where the pumps had just been. The warmth of her day - morning yoga, sweat from her afternoon jog with Abby, the odor of bare feet hidden away in converse while out to dinner - permeated the air and invaded my nostrils, causing an immediate jolt to my now throbbing erection. Through muscle memory, I reflexively bent down to fully inhale the aroma. As I did, she continued.
"You are not allowed to cum, not even once."
"Of course, goddess. I promise," I said, "I'll make sure I don't because I don't want to disappoint you." My lips began to brush the tops of her foot, small kisses, trying to prove my continued devotion to her.
"But, don't think this will be easy - I'm going to make this a challenge for you. I'll be checking on you; maybe sending you pictures, or videos, or... other surprises."
I stopped and looked up at her, cheek resting lightly on top of her foot where my lips had just been. "... other surprises?"
This was a mistake.
She quickly pulled her foot away from under my face.
"Did you just question me? Your place at my feet is not to question me, slave, it is to worship me."
With that, and with my cheek now on the couch where her foot had moment earlier been, she pushed the ball of her foot into my face, crushing my lips, toes wrapped around the tip of my nose - the scent of her day in shoes overwhelming my senses as I knelt there shocked at my error.
"Your place is under my feet."
I tried to offer up an apology to her as her foot pushed into my face, making it difficult to speak. "I... I'm sorry... goddess."
"Oh, I know you are," she said. "But, for questioning me, you'll have to be punished."
I dreaded hearing what she was going to say, but I already knew what was next. I stayed quiet, looking up at her, my eyes pleading with her to reconsider.
