Emilia was far from settled. She was buzzing above me. I’d never seen her so excited over anything. She seemed to enjoy the extra humiliation of making me state out loud what I was doing and why. She grabbed my hair firmly in one hand and pulled me up on my knees at her side. She crossed one foot across the opposite knee and forced my face against her sole. With her other hand she held out her camera phone. She positioned our heads close together, and snapped photo after photo of the pair of us. Her face contorted and twisted amongst laughter and disgust, whilst mine was captivated in the throes of passion, my tongue dragging along her sweaty foot sole. “That’s it. Lick it like you love it,” she said while posing us for another photo.
“Kiss it.” Click. “Suck them.” Click. “Get your tongue in between.” Click.
She held her ankle and twisted her toes into my mouth. And another photo was taken. She was almost an expert at it, and ever so flexible. She somehow squeezed both our faces and her foot into every photo. Not a detail was left out. She had evidence of everything. Me licking her sole, sucking her toes, and digging out the crud between them with my tongue. She even had one with her sock stuffed in my mouth while my eyes rolled back into my head, with her at my side giving a thumbs up. Throughout it all I didn’t try to stop or fight it. I didn’t have it in me. It was all so overbearing and her determination was relentless. I wasn’t given a single opportunity to oppose her will. Emilia had completely tamed me with her feet and all thoughts of my dignity, both personal and professional had dissipated.
“Say what you are again,” she said and I repeated that I was her foot licker, this time for what I assumed was a video. “Say you’re Judge Foot Licker,” she ordered, camera held out and I did.
Eventually it was all too much and I just sat there with my head resting against the sofa’s cushion. Emilia still put her toes in my mouth for a few more photos, but my unresponsiveness seemed to stem her fun. She sensed my exhaustion and toned down her antics. She resumed her spot on the sofa and hugged her knees, pulling the elasticated hem of her sweater midway down her shins. Her bare feet rested on the footrest with her toes poking out off the edge. “Come,” she beckoned me. “Kiss my toes.”
I conjured up some strength and crawled forward to place a peck on each of Emilia’s toes, breathing in the stinky smell of her workout as I went along. Despite my tongue-cleaning, her scent was still both stifling and intoxicating. I struggled to escape its pull and went through each toe again for a second kiss. As my lips left her big toe, she pushed forward and I felt her toe enter my mouth and rest on my tongue.
“Why are you letting me do this to you?” She mused, while slipping the big toe of her other foot in my mouth alongside the first. She parted her feet slightly and stretched my mouth open with her toes. It hurt, but I didn’t stop her. “I mean, look at you. I can do this to you whenever I want, can’t I? You don’t even try and stop me.”
I didn’t answer her, not that I could with my mouth full and lips stretched. I merely closed my eyes in shame.
“Open your eyes,” Emilia said. She held her phone up in front of my shamed face. “And hold still.”
I did as ordered and let Emilia snap another humiliating photo for her collection. If any of these pictures ever got out: I’d be ruined. My career would be a shambles and my marriage a wreck, but still, I couldn’t stop her. Something inside me liked the unfairness of it all, letting Emilia do what she wanted just because she could; because of those feet.
She giggled at how ridiculous I must have looked. “Imagine what everyone at work would say if they knew you were my personal toe sucker.”
I blushed once again and felt my face burning up with shame.
“Go on, suck them.” She said. “Show me what you are.”
I sucked those toes like my life depended on it. I did it for two reasons. Firstly, because I wanted to; I loved the taste of Emilia’s toes, especially that sweaty crevice between them. Secondly, I did it because Emilia wanted me to. She seemed to relish humiliating me at her feet and I liked seeing her giggle and laugh while tormenting me. Her sadistic enjoyment made worshipping her all the more intense. The more she put me in my place, the more obedient I became. It was a vicious circle. I only feared what depths she’d take it to.
Her demeanour was almost scientific and watchful as she rolled her toes around, slipping a new one in my moist mouth and urging me to suck once more. Her expression would shift between disbelief and bemusement, seemingly amazed that I would let her treat me in this way. Paying for her pedicures was one thing, but this was a whole other level of depravity; one that I feared there was no way back from.
“What would your husband think if he saw this?” She said while I bobbed upon her big toe with vigour.
At those words I felt a renewed fight to resist; a sort of realisation of the depravity I was allowing to happen. I tried to pull away but Emilia was having none of it. She leant forward, grabbed a handful of my hair and held me securely in place, her toes safely nestled in my mouth. If anything, she only provoked me so she could enjoy suppressing my reluctance. I tried to speak, but she pushed her toes in just a little bit further to silence me. “Shh,” she said. “Just suck them like a good girl, you know you want to.” Her words were strategically chosen; encouraging and reassuring.
I melted and sucked her toes like a content baby.
She stroked my cheek in approval and parted her knees, leaning in so our faces were close. She knew she’d tamed me once again. “Look me in the eyes while you suck my toes,” she urged me, and I did, seeing nothing but satisfaction looking straight back at me. It was tough not to look away in shame, but I held her gaze; Emilia wanted to enjoy this moment to the full, and I was willing to let her.
As I slowly moved my lips back and forth on her toe, maintaining eye contact as ordered, I saw deeper beyond her satisfaction. Those brown eyes looked at me with superiority, and I looked back into them with acceptance. We saw in each other a new understanding between us; that she was above me. I may be her superior in age, experience and wealth, but it was all irrelevant, because here I was sucking her toes. I suckled gently to let her know I understood; she merely smirked in response.
The next day at work I felt a sense of dread as I waited for the court to clear. I’d lay awake in bed next to my husband all night, my face and mouth no doubt reeking of Emilia’s foot sweat.
All day Emilia had been flexing her feet in front of me, but she hadn’t once mentioned what occurred the night before. Whereas I was nervous and on edge, Emilia seemed at ease. It was as if she did not have a care in the world. Maybe she didn’t; she wasn’t a foot licker after all. What did she have to be ashamed of?
I felt embarrassment every time I thought about it. Her subjugation of me had been intense and brutal. She’d steam-rolled through any resistance before I’d had the chance to fully understand what had happened and the consequences that may result. A lot of it was blurred in my memory. I’d been so weak and let her humiliate me so much, but it had felt right deep down inside. I was caught in two minds. What was clear was that I’d let this thing go way beyond the levels of acceptability between two people working together, especially with my highly respected position. And the photos, oh the photos. Why had I let her take such pictures of me like that? Of the two of us. She had documented every depth I’d sunk to.