At Her Feet

Miss opened her DMs. Another guy trying.

"Being at your feet is my dream. Are you open to having a submissive under your command? You are everything I dream of, and I did not know you would be open to this. I want to be here for you to use."

She exhaled, scrolling through the message. She had foot slaves before—most were greedy, disobedient, or lacked true devotion. But something about this one felt different. Perhaps it was her good mood or the way he presented himself. She decided to reply.

"Tell me more about you."

He answered immediately. He explained his deepest desires, where he came from, his job, his home situation. He spoke with honesty, not hiding behind vague words or empty promises. That made him stand out. He felt more trustworthy than the others who begged without revealing themselves. He also added a photo of himself, a selfie in the mirror of his body, not showing his face.

She set her conditions: "Before each session, you will pay. You will always be respectful. And do not ask for more than you deserve."

He obeyed.

The first payment arrived swiftly. They set up a live video session. She watched him, testing his devotion. He was eager, ready to submit, ready to prove himself worthy of her time.

Live Video Session: His Work Restroom Break

The screen flickered to life. His face appeared—flushed, eyes burning with need. He was in the restroom of his workplace, hidden away during a break.

She smirked. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Miss. Always."

"Good boy. Show me. Kneel."

The camera shifted. He lowered himself onto the cold tile floor, staring up at the screen as if looking into her eyes.

"Now, take out your cock. Stroke it slowly."

His hand obeyed instantly. She watched as he followed her command, breathing ragged.

"You know your place, don’t you?" she teased, crossing her legs elegantly, letting one foot dangle for his hungry gaze.

"Yes, Miss. My place is at your feet."

"That’s right." She extended her leg toward the camera. "Imagine them in front of you. My soft soles. My perfect toes. You dream of them, don’t you?"

He groaned. "Every second."

"Show me how much you crave them. Faster now."

His strokes quickened. The tension in his body grew visible.

"But you don’t get to cum yet, pet. Only when I allow it. Understood?"

"Yes, Miss. I will obey."

"That’s my good boy. Keep going. Worship me with your eyes. Imagine licking the soles of my feet. Imagine kissing every toe, feeling their weight on your tongue."

His body trembled. His breath came in short gasps.

"Now beg. Beg to cum for me."

"Please, Miss. Let me. I need to. Please!"

She paused, watching him struggle, savoring his desperation. Then, finally, she leaned closer to the camera and whispered, "Cum for me, foot slut."

With a strangled moan, he obeyed. His body shuddered, surrendering completely to her command.

He panted, eyes still locked on the screen, utterly spent, completely hers.

"Clean up and return to work. You did well," she said casually. "And remember—this is a privilege, not a right."

"Thank you, Miss," he whispered. "I live to serve you."

Every morning and every night, he praised her. He let her know she was in his thoughts. Dreaming of her feet. Dreaming of licking her wheelchair clean. Longing to be her doormat.

"With you in my thoughts, as if you were still before my eyes, as if I were still kneeling in front of your footrest, adoring you, venerating you, dreaming of you... in the place I deserve most and in the place where I dream of being: at your feet. The place that deserves a pathetic little toesucker slut."

He could not wait till the next session.