I waited in silence for her to get out. We hadn’t spoken at all during the drive and I was still unsure how she felt about my finally admitting the truth. From her body language she didn’t seem bothered, but she was a tough one to read.
Emilia finished texting on her phone and looked at me with a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Judgey. You’re always taking care of me, aren’t you?”
“Could you please not call me that?” I whined. All those years of law school and countless cases and this was my reward.
She laughed and shook her head. “I’ll see you Monday, Judgey.” She opened the door and was halfway out before she stopped and turned. “You know what. I’ve an idea. Like I said, I’ve just been running on the treadmill for an hour and my feet are killing me. You want to take care of me a little bit more? Rub my feet for a bit maybe?”
“Yes!” I said, way too enthusiastically. By this point I figured I may as well jump at the opportunity. Since everything was already out in the open and she was offering it on a plate, how could I resist?
Emilia almost burst out in laughter at my excitement. “They’re sweaty. You know they’re gonna smell, right?” She bit her lip and nodded her head. She was testing me again; seeing how far she could push me. She already knew what I was going to say. “You’d actually like that, wouldn’t you?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Nuh uh. Tell me what it is that you’d like.”
Once again, my face burned with humiliation at being made to state things how they were. She seemed to love watching me squirm. Her brown eyes were brimming with enchantment. I took a breath and told her what she wanted to hear: the truth. “I’d like to rub your sweaty, smelly feet for you, Emilia.” What had I become?
“Better come inside then,” Emilia said with a smile, and she turned towards her apartment.
Emilia was stretched out on her sofa, her socked feet propped up on a footrest. With a glass of red wine in her hand and eyes closed, she was completely relaxed. I meanwhile had been massaging her soles for the past ten minutes, soothing the stresses from her tired muscles and drawing moans of approval from her. Her sneakers were discarded close by, but their pungent, damp smell lingered.
She wasn’t shy in telling me where she wanted her feet rubbed or ordering me to apply more pressure. I did everything I was told. It was actually the first foot massage I’d ever given, but I found the experience exciting and exhilarating. It was like a calling. I was finally where I belonged.
Emilia looked at me through narrowed eyes while taking a sip of her wine. “I should have had you doing this for me a while ago. It feels so good.”
I simply nodded my head in agreement and continued rubbing. The fact she implied I had no say in it only made me rub with further intensity.
“How do they smell, anyway?” She wiggled her socked toes right beneath my nose. “Take a deep breath. Don’t be shy.”
I sniffed loudly and that seemed to spur Emilia on. She put down her wine, and with an audible snigger, she stretched forward and cupped her socked toes over my nose. “Sniff,” she urged while she ground her toes around my defenceless nostrils. I sensed she was experimenting. Testing me once again. Seeing what she could get away with.
I took another deep breath and my eyes rolled back at the pungent intensity of Emilia’s foot funk.
My suffering prompted her to clap her hands in glee and squeal with delight, before grinding her socked feet against my face a final time. “Take my socks off,” she said abruptly and she sat up on her elbows to get a better view.
I peeled both of her socks down her ankles, noting that they appeared stuck to her skin from sweat. Once removed, I placed them delicately atop her sneakers. I’d barely turned back to face her before I felt her damp soles press against my face. She ground them forcibly against my skin and wiped the sweat from her soles all over my cheeks and forehead. I could have got up at any moment and told her to stop. I dwarfed her in size after all, but I didn’t. I just knelt there and let her do it. And she did it to the point that it became awkward. It was awkward that I let it go on for so long without voicing any opposition. Instead, I wallowed in the shame of it all.
I learned that there’s something about letting another girl rub her sweaty feet in your face. It’s a different level of humiliation and understanding. It speaks volumes between you; the fact you’ll let her do it freely and get away with it. As her greasy soles slid up and down my cheeks, I caught peeks of her determined face. Her teeth were grit and her eyes focused. It was as if she was forcibly rubbing it into my face that I belonged right there.
“You’re so obedient when you’re in the zone,” she said. “It’s like a foot zone you go into. Your eyes glass over. Look at you, you’re just letting me rub my feet all over your face. ” She exemplified her point by tracing a toe over my lips. “I wonder what else you’ll let me do.”
She was lost in thought for a moment, before a grin took over her face. “You know, I could shower before making you do what I’m about to, but I’m not going to. You get to appreciate my feet every day at their best, so you can clean them at their worst.”
Emilia withdrew her feet from my face and rested them atop the footstool once again. “Lick em,” she said with a smirk. “Lick all over them. Lick them clean. I want to see you slobbering all over my sweaty soles and stinky toes. Get to it.” She cocked her head slightly and watched with curiosity to see if I’d actually do it.
I looked between her face and her sweaty feet multiple times before I made my decision. The rings of Emilia’s laughter pinged my ears as my tongue made contact with the sole of her foot for the first time. I initially flinched at the acrid taste, but then with the second lick I knew I was hooked. I lost all control and mindlessly lapped at her soles, all the while she watched me with eyes wide and mouth aghast. She appeared to be in true disbelief that I would debase myself this way before her. My tongue greedily made its way between every toe, licking out the funk in between that she’d worked so hard at the gym to build up and swallowing it with satisfaction. I was like a beast possessed.
Licking Emilia’s feet opened up a whole other side of my personality and like a catalyst it unlocked a beast within her too.
“Tell me you’re my pedi girl,” she demanded.
I ceased my licking in confusion, but with a second prompt from her and a kick to my cheek, I did as she wanted. “I’m your pedi girl,” I said. The words made me blush.
“Tell me you’re my foot licker,” she whispered.
“I’m your foot licker,” I replied, almost robotic in my response, before returning my tongue to her foot.
She cracked up in laughter. “Say you’re Emilia’s foot licker.”
“I’m Emilia’s foot licker.” I reddened at that one. Hearing it out loud really hit home. I busied myself with taking another lap at her sole to occupy my mind away from her taunts. The taste of her feet calmed and settled me somewhat.