“Foot Fetish Freak” – That’s what the tag on his collar read.
It’s not unusual for Dommes to trade off a submissive occasionally. My girlfriend from up in Jersey let me know a new pet would be arriving today shipped directly to my doorstep from her dungeon. “You should keep an ear out for your doorbell because honestly, I have no idea when that foot fetish freak will get there. Oh and..have fun btw!” We laughed, said our goodbyes, and disconnected. I went outside in the freshly cut grass to get my toes dirty. It would be incredibly impolite for me to not have these perfect lily white soles completely covered in debris for my new subby to clean.
Like clockwork, I heard the door and casually slinked my way inside to greet the foot fetish freak. I took a quick peek out the window to just get a good look at him. Ah..what an easy target! There he was – standing all of maybe 5’7, average-looking and not completely unattractive however not my type. If you’ve been reading my blogs long enough, you are fully aware that I like my men to be dark chocolate and intense. This pitiful loser probably will do anything I ask. I’m so far out of his league and I’m sure his former FemDom made that abundantly clear.
“TAKE YOUR FUCKING SHOES OFF, FOOT FETISH FREAK!”, I shouted through the crack of the door.
The foot fetish freak removed his wine colored lace-up oxfords but looked confused about what exactly to do with his socks. Should he leave them on or take them off as well? I could see the panic in his poor eyes. “I have a large tribute for you, Goddess. Should I just put it through the mail slot for now?” Cha-fucking-ching, that’s what I like to hear. Damn, it looks like The Jersey Girl has done it again. I’ll have to send her my Human ATM immediately to even up the gifting circle a bit.
I start opening up the door, Foot Fetish Freak drops to his knees and extends his hands holding a band of hundreds.
“Thank you so much for allowing me to serve you, Goddess. Though your feet are covered in grass clippings, I can see that they are as beautiful as Mistress promised. May I clean them for you? Please? I can beg!”
I motion for him to walk on his hands and knees over to my sofa where I plop my perfect ass down on a pillow. “Well let’s see how talented you are, loser. CLEAN!” He reaches to touch them with his fingers. “Did I say you could do that? No. Use your tongue and mouth only. I will let you know when you have permission to do anything else.”
He nods sheepishly in agreement knowing that we are literally not off on the right foot already. These small mistakes can cost him what he craves and he aches to please me.
He begins his clean up job nicely while I degrade him verbally, listing off my plan to break his spirit entirely. He cries but they are happy tears. Foot fetish freak has found his new Queen.