Goth Girls Call The Shots

"Hey! I'm talking to you. Look at me."

I look up, nervous but excited, my mistress glaring hard at me from beneath thick lashes. Her lips, painted a deep, glossy matte black, curl into a playfully cruel smile. "Oh, my fucking god...are you seriously in a trance over my

feet

?"

At first, I had no idea what she meant, when it all came rushing back to me. I became aware of myself, kneeling, in only my underwear. Thick, heavy straps around my legs. Arms bound behind my back with sturdy rope. A collar with a dog tag around my neck, the leash leading up and into her hand. And her wide feet just beneath my nose.

I reflexively inhaled and shuddered, my erection straining against my briefs as I took in the vinegary scent of her feet. It was intoxicating, more addicting than any drug. That pungent smell that seemed to fill every nerve in my nostrils. I couldn't

not

give in. If I was in a trance, it wasn't the first time.

"Slave. I asked you a question." She tugged on the collar, pulling me slightly closer to her feet. "Answer. Me."

"I-I'm sorry, mistress." I replied. "I was in a trance. Your feet just...smell so good...I couldn't control myself."

She burst into laughter, and my cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Holy shit, that's so fucked up. I've never heard of someone going into subspace from smelling feet, especially mine. You're like some new breed of foot pervert. This must be paradise for you, huh?"

"Yes...I love the smell of your feet, mistress..."

She sneered at me. "Oh? Does it turn you on?"

Blushing deeper, I nodded.

"Uh-uh. I wanna hear you say it. Say 'The smell of your stinky feet turns me on, mistress.' Say it right now." She tugged on the collar again. "Or else."

I swallowed, then spoke. "Th...The s-smell of your s...stinky feet turns m-me on, mistress."

She laughed again, only this time it was more of a cackle. "Fuck, i can't believe you actually said that! And I got it all on video!"

My heart sank as I looked around in shock. Video? What...and then I saw what was in her other hand. I don't know how I didn't notice it before. Her phone, up and pointed directly at me.

"You've been a little uppity lately, so I thought it'd be a good idea to record this session." she said. "So next time you act up, I might just...upload it to YouTube."

I tried getting to my feet, forgetting the straps and wincing in pain. "Please! Don't do that! I'll do anything!"

She frowned. "You have some nerve telling me what to do...but 'anything', hm? Let's put that to the test."

She pressed her foot against my face and smiled. "Lick my feet."

I was doing it before I even realized I was doing it. Her feet were moist, salty, with a bit of tang. Up and down I licked her sweaty feet, before long, I was panting like a dog, sucking her toes, nibbling her heels, kissing her insteps.

"Mm...mmf..." She let out a pleasured sigh, making sure to keep the phone on me, and a firm grip on my leash. "Damn, that feels good. You really know how to worship feet, you perv."

I didn't answer. I

couldn't

answer. I was on autopilot, licking her reeking feet, taking in the grimy taste, the cheesy smell. I felt my mind unraveling, becoming undone, descending into that place where conscious thought stopped existing. All I could think about was my mistress's feet...her warm...vinegary...salty...feet.

"I knew it." I barely registered her voice. I was sucking on her big toe, taking the time to lick between the big and little, the spot that held a lot of smell. "Enough exposure to my feet and someone's brain just turns to mush. Given enough time, they'll just become brainless simps who'll do anything for my feet. Look at you. I doubt you even remember who you are."

That was ridiculous. Of course I knew who I was. I was my mistress's loyal foot pet. Who else would I be? What else would I be? This was my purpose in life, to serve her goth feet whenever and however she wanted. That's just the way things are, and I couldn't be happier.

"Thank you for letting me be your slave, mistress." I gasped out between licks of her divine feet. "I love your feet. I'll be your slave forever."

"Damn right you will." she laughed, giving the leash another tug. "You'll spend the rest of your life like this, my prisoner, my slave, devoted to my feet. There's nothing left for you but my feet. They're your life, your whole world. The reason you wake up in the morning. You exist only for my feet. Do you understand,

slave

?"

I understood...and I couldn't be happier.

-/-/-/-/-

I blinked as I awoke, my senses returning to me. Rather than my usual spot at the foot of my mistress's bed, I was hogtied in a cage, gagged with a pair of her old socks, one of her boots taped against my face. I could barely breathe, and all I could breathe was the odorous aroma of her feet.

"You were being a real brat earlier." I heard my mistress's voice behind me, but I couldn't turn to see. "So I'm punishing you. Stay like that for a few hours. That should teach you a lesson about disrespecting me. Fall deeper into the smell and taste of my feet. Struggle all you want; you won't get out."

She walked away, her footsteps fading before I heard a door slam, and a lock click immediately after.

Of course I wouldn't struggle. I deserved this. Mistress was right to punish me. Mistress was always right. I relaxed in my bonds, focusing on the leathery popcorn smell of her worn boot, the taste of her well-worn, crusty socks.

This was what I deserved, and this was where I belonged. I only hope that my mistress returns soon, so I can prove my devotion to her once more...

[END]