Feet Smelling - Foot Smelling 207
Russian Mistress Crushes Her Foot Slave
In the dimly lit hallway, the scent of sweat and leather filled the air. A nervous slave waited on his knees, his heart racing as he anticipated his first encounter with his new mistress. Suddenly, the door swung open, and there she stood: Goldie, a tall, statuesque figure clad in black leather. Her eyes pierced through him like sharp knives, sending shivers down his spine.
"Get up, slave," she commanded, her voice cold and unyielding. With trembling hands, he rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the floor. She stepped closer, towering over him, and he could feel her warm breath on his neck.
"You have been selected to serve me," she continued. "Your duty is to obey without question. Do you understand?"
He nodded meekly, his throat dry from fear. She smiled, revealing her razor-sharp teeth, and then pushed him to the ground. Kneeling over him, she placed one hand on her hip and lifted her foot, resting it on his chest.
"From now on," she began, "this will be your new home. My foot will always be here, waiting for you." She paused, her gaze drilling into him. "And you will always know your place."
With that, she leaned down and pressed her foot into the doormat beneath them, grinding it into the rug with her full weight. The slave gasped, feeling the rough texture of her boot against his skin. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized the extent of his submission.
"You will show me the respect I deserve," she continued, her voice low and menacing. "And you will do it by worshiping my feet at every opportunity."
She lifted her foot from the mat and then planted it back down, this time on top of his stomach. The slave winced, feeling the full weight of her foot crushing against him. She repeated the motion several times, each time digging her heel deeper into his flesh.
"Now," she said finally, "let's begin your training."
Without warning, she thrust her foot forward, forcing him to open his mouth wide. She pressed her sweaty sock against his lips, and he could feel the dampness and the faint scent of her sweat. His heart raced as he anticipated her next command.
"Suck," she growled, and he obeyed instinctively. He sucked on her sock, tasting the salt of her sweat and feeling the rough texture against his tongue. She grinned, reveling in his submission.
"That's a good slave," she purred, removing her sock from his mouth. "Now, I want you to lick every inch of my foot clean. And when you're done, you will smell my socks and tell me what you think."
Shivering with fear and anticipation, the slave knelt before her, his tongue ready for his mistress's command. As he began to lick and clean her foot, he could feel the power she held over him, the control she had over his body and his senses. And despite the pain and humiliation, he couldn't help but feel a strange, twisted sense of satisfaction.
For this was his new life, his new home. And as long as Goldie stood over him, her feet crushing him into submission, he knew he would never be free.
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