“Emilia. I need to speak with you,” I said to her when we were finally alone.
“What is it, Judgey?” She smiled mischievously.
I cringed at her calling me that in public. “Can we be serious for a moment please?”
Her face softened. “Sure, what’s up?”
I felt a little more at ease by her reaction. “I’m a bit worried about what you’re going to do with those photos. They could be a big problem for me if they got out.”
“Relax.” Emilia kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles. Her soles immediately drew me in, their texture so smooth and soft, blemish free with minimal sprinklings of wrinkles. She wiggled her toes seductively. “I’m not going to blackmail you or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Look at you, do I really need to?” She waved one of her feet around and giggled as I followed it with my eyes. “I can get you to do whatever I want, whenever I want with these babies anyway. We both know that now.”
“Will you show anyone?”
She shrugged. “Probably not, but who knows? Maybe a friend or something, but it won’t be anyone that will come back on you. You have my word on that. I’m not a bitch. I just took them for my own enjoyment and the whole thing was a real hoot. As long as you fulfil your pedicure duties and be a good little foot girl for me when I need you; we’re good, Judgey.”
I blushed at her words, though I felt optimistic that our secret was safe for now.
Emilia took her phone from her handbag and opened the gallery, flicking through the countless humiliating photos she already had of me. I could have snatched it from her and smashed it to pieces, but in all likeliness, she’d backed them up somewhere. She stopped on one photo and held it up to me. “Quite a collection I’m building up of you, huh? This one’s my favourite,” she said.
The photo in question was one of me on my knees, eyes closed and licking her foot in sheer bliss. Her face was visible alongside me, contorted in laughter while she held me by my hair. Just one look at that and there was no doubt who was the one really in charge around here. I looked away in shame. What would the other judges think if they ever saw that?
“Get your mouth on my feet right now,” Emilia suddenly said out of nowhere.
“What? Here?” I asked in shock. I’d come to her to have a frank discussion, and here she was once again, ready to belittle me. Why did I let her get away with it? I looked around the courtroom. It was empty, but still, anyone could walk in and catch us. “Please, not here Emilia.”
“Do it.”
Refusing didn’t seem an option at this stage. Even if she assured me that she wouldn’t share the photos, the doubt still existed in my mind. I bent over the desk and wrapped my lips around a couple of her toes. They were awkwardly crammed into my mouth, but I wasn’t going for elegance. I just hoped to appease her. The sooner she was satisfied, the sooner my public torment would end.
“Look at me,” she said, and once I did, I heard that familiar click of her camera. “Good girl, that was perfect.”
She kicked me away just as the janitor pushed his trolley into the courtroom and I pretended I’d dropped something on the floor. I figured that was the end of my humiliation with his interruption, but Emilia’s foot appeared on the floor inches from my face. I looked up into those amused brown eyes and saw her mouth the word kiss. I did it quickly, placing a light peck upon the top of her foot, just above her purple toenails before the janitor reached us. Seemingly satisfied, Emilia placed the ball of her foot on my forehead and pushed me away.
“Found it,” I lied. I pretended to put something in my pocket and made my way for the exit.
“See you soon, Judgey,” Emilia said after me in a raised voice.
I cringed as I passed the janitor, his confused face making me wonder if he’d witnessed every detail.
Days passed without seeing Emilia and her feet. By luck, she wasn’t down to sit in a single one of my hearings; the other judges being the lucky ones to enjoy her presence.
By Friday night I was feeling a bit depressed and desperate. On the one hand, I loved Emilia’s feet and it was tough to be away from them. Part of me also revelled in the way she treated me with them, but I was a proud woman. It hurt my pride to be such a success in my career, but a wimp when it came to her. I moped around the house when I wasn’t at work and in Emilia’s presence; a week away from her was a long time. My husband noticed, and we’d argued over my change in attitude. That was how I found myself upset and parked outside Emilia’s apartment. I’d hesitated for half an hour about knocking on her door. Eventually I found the courage.
Emilia answered the door wearing nothing but an oversized night-shirt, panties and a pair of slouch socks. She yawned as she leant against the door-frame. “Hey Judgey,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Could I come in please?”
Emilia rolled her eyes and wandered off into her apartment. I closed the door and followed. She was already sitting on the sofa when I reached her. I dropped to my knees before her. It felt right and appropriate.
“I miss you, Emilia,” I whined. “I haven’t seen your feet in over a week.”
Emilia was surprisingly understanding and candid. She stroked my cheek with her thumb and wiped a tear away. “You’re so needy,” she said encouragingly.
“I know it’s pathetic. I feel like a right loser sometimes, but that’s what you and your feet do to me.”
“Aww, but you’re MY loser.”
I was actually a bit taken aback. I thought she’d be reassuring, but instead she only confirmed my fear, but in her own way. “You really think I’m a loser?” I said, aghast. I was on the verge of a flurry of tears again.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re useful to me, right? How would my feet be all nice and pretty without you to take care of them? You don’t just pay for my pedicures anymore. You’re my foot licker now too. You should take pride in that. It’s not just anyone that gets to care for these feet.”
I sniffled at her words. How tragic I was; a grown woman sobbing on her knees at a young girl’s feet. “But, you could ruin me at any moment with all of those photos you have and the things I do for you. I just feel so overwhelmed. It’s hard for me to deal with everything I’ve done. It’s so wrong, but I know I can’t say no to you. I can’t resist your feet at all. Could you delete the photos at least so I feel a bit better? Please, Emilia?”
Emilia rolled her eyes. “Oh, that again. I’m not deleting those photos, so stop going on about them. I like looking at them too much when I’m bored. Just accept they’re mine. Even if I did delete them you’d just let me take some more, so what’s the point? But I’ve already told you silly, I’m not going to ruin you or anything. Think about it. Why would I do that? Who’s going to look after my feet if I don’t have you? I’m intending to have you pay for my pedicures for a very long time. And I like that it’s you, a judge at work that does it. You all think you’re so high and mighty you see, and you need this to remind you you’re not. You know I never even went to college? All of your expensive years of education and you’re just my foot licker. The sooner you accept it and work out these little tantrums the better. You can’t just show up at my apartment like this desperate and needy. I’m going to have to train you to come only when you’re summoned.”