Lick my smelly feet after riding training ( Foot Worship with MIss LIlly ) - 640p wmv
As you step out of the shower after a long day of riding, the air is thick with anticipation. Your heart races in anticipation of the moment when your sweaty socks and smelly feet will be worshipped by the foot slave who awaits you. You can hear him breathing heavily, eagerly waiting for your command. You take your time, savoring the power you hold over him.
Finally, you make your way to the bedroom where he's kneeling, his eyes fixed on your feet. You're dressed in nothing but a towel, leaving little to the imagination. His gaze travels up your toned legs, stopping at the sight of your sweaty socks. He looks up at you, awaiting your instructions.
"Loser," you say with a sneer, "it's time for you to pay your dues." You slowly peel off your socks, revealing the source of his obsession: your smelly, sweaty feet. The room is filled with the intoxicating scent of stale foot sweat and dirt.
"Come on, foot slob," you taunt, "get to work." He hesitates for a moment before leaning in closer, his nose just inches from your feet. You watch as he inhales deeply, taking in the foul odor.
"That's it," you whisper, the power surging through your veins. "Lick my smelly feet clean and thank me for the honor of doing this." He opens his mouth, his tongue darting out tentatively before making contact with your skin.
His tongue is rough against your soles, scrubbing away the dirt and grime that has built up over hours of riding. You can feel his warm breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You close your eyes, savoring the moment as he worships your feet.
"Yes," you moan, "that's it. Clean every inch of my feet with your tongue." He obeys, his tongue tracing every contour of your feet. He moves up to your toes, kissing them gently before pushing them into his mouth, as if they were the most precious thing in the world.
You feel yourself getting wet between your legs, the thought of him thanking you for the honor almost too much to bear. And then he does it. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with gratitude, and says the words you've been waiting for: "Thank you, Mistress. I'm honored to worship your perfect feet."
You smile, feeling a rush of power course through your veins. "You're welcome, foot slave," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now go and tell the other girls at the riding stables that there are men who will gratefully lick their feet clean after training."
With that, you turn away, leaving him kneeling in front of you, his face buried in your smelly socks. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and submission. It's a heady mix that leaves you feeling powerful and satisfied.