Youngmistressstore - Young Mistress Feet Smelling 128 wmv

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Youngmistressstore - Young Mistress Feet Smelling 128 wmv

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Young Mistress Feet Smelling 128 wmv

As the house slave, Bobby knew he was at the mercy of his young, blonde mistress Shirly. She had a way of making him feel small and powerless, and today was no different. Tied to the wardrobe, he could do nothing but wait for her next visit. Each time she approached, he braced himself for the inevitable blows that rained down upon his already reddened ass.



Hours passed, and Bobby's body ached from the constant punishment. The sting of her hand on his skin faded into a dull throb as he struggled to remain conscious. Finally, he heard her approach once more. His heart raced in anticipation of more pain, but instead, she untied him and ordered him to kneel before her.



Shirly stood over him, her towering presence casting a shadow over Bobby's humbled form. She looked down at him with disdain, her foot hovering just out of reach. "You pathetic excuse for a slave," she hissed. "You've spent the whole day tied up, and all you can think about is your own discomfort."



With that, she kicked him hard in the chest, sending him flying back against the wall. Tears stung his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath. "Now, get on your hands and knees," she commanded. "It's time for your next humiliation."



Bobby knew better than to question her. He crawled across the floor, his body aching with every movement. When he reached the spot she indicated, he looked up at her, expecting another blow. Instead, he saw a pair of worn flip-flops lying on the ground before him.



"What am I supposed to do with those?" he asked, his voice trembling.



Shirly smiled coldly. "Why don't you lick them clean, slave?" she purred. "And then you can smell them. After all, it's been a long day, and my feet must stink."



With a sigh of resignation, Bobby bent down and picked up the flip-flops. He held them awkwardly between his teeth, trying to avoid making eye contact with his mistress. As he licked the grime from the soles, he could feel his stomach churning. The smell was overwhelming, a sickly sweet mix of sweat and dirt.



"That's not enough, slave," Shirly said, her voice laced with amusement. "You need to smell them too." She lifted one foot off the ground, exposing her sweaty, bare foot to the air. "Go on," she ordered. "Get a good whiff."



Bobby closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath through his nose. The smell was nauseating, but he couldn't disobey her. He leaned in closer, inhaling deeply. As he did, he felt a hand slide up his leg, stopping just short of his crotch.



"That's right," Shirly whispered. "You like it, don't you?" She leaned down, her breath hot against his ear. "You like the smell of my feet, don't you, slave?"



Bobby whimpered, unable to deny the truth. He was addicted to the scent, even though it made him want to vomit. "Yes, mistress," he whispered.



Shirly laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "Good boy," she said, giving his ear a light pinch. "Now, lick my foot clean, and maybe I'll let you taste it."



With a shudder, Bobby leaned in and began to lick the sweat from her foot. As he did, he felt her foot slide between his legs, pressing against his growing erection. A shockwave of pleasure-pain coursed through his body, making him moan.



"That's it," Shirly purred. "You like it, don't you?" She leaned down, her breath hot against his neck. "You're such a pathetic little slave, always craving more."



Bobby couldn't deny it. He was addicted to the power she held over him, the way she could make him feel both humiliated and aroused in equal measure. As he licked her foot clean, he could feel her foot slide up and down his shaft, teasing him mercilessly.



Finally, she pulled her foot away, leaving Bobby panting and aching for more. "Not today, slave," she said with a smirk. "But maybe next time." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving him alone in a puddle of his own desire.

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