My foot fetish pets always learn quickly that heel worship is the only language I speak when I’m in full domme control. They can’t tear their eyes off my platinum blonde hair, swept up in a bold glam style that completes the picture of the powerful, curvaceous goddess I am. As I saunter into the room, they shift nervously, anxious to prove how devoted they are to serving me. And serving is all they will do tonight.
I turn to face them, my heels clicking against the floor with each step, and command, ‘Now, worship my feet as you’ve been trained.’ The air fills with the sound of leather and denim as they scramble to kneel before me. Hands hover, ready to begin, but I intervene.
‘Wait,’ I say, the single word a command. ‘First, a reminder of what you’re here for.’ Slowly, I lift one stiletto-clad foot, toes pointed towards the ceiling. ‘Examine my footwear, pet. Admire the sleek design, the way the leather hugs my arch, the sharp, curved heel.’ My eyes flash with power as I allow them to trace the lines of the shoe, aching to be touched by more than just their gaze.
Finally, I lower my foot to the ground and spread my legs just wide enough for them to access my feet. ‘Now, begin,’ I instruct, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips. ‘Lick the ball of my foot, massage it gently with your tongue, then work your way up to my toes.’ As their mouth makes contact with my skin, I revel in the sensation, letting out a soft moan of pleasure.
But I’m not yet satisfied. With a snap of my fingers, I order them to switch to my other foot. ‘No lingering, pet. You’ll give equal attention to each,’ I warn. As they obey, alternating between my feet, I start to deny them, lifting a foot away as they try to worship.
‘Not yet, sweetheart,’ I tease. ‘You’ll earn more of my affection by demonstrating your devotion.’ I watch, amused, as they redouble their efforts, tongues darting and hands stroking, desperate to please me.
After a few minutes, I decide to reward their dedication. I lower both feet to the floor and spread them wide, a tempted grin on my lips. ‘Now, heel worship,’ I command, my voice low and sultry. ‘Mouth to the tip, tongue lapping, and don’t stop until I tell you to.’
They know what that means. As I prop my heels against their eager faces, they delve into the act with reverence, licking and sucking the high, stiletto-sharp points with abandon, their moans of pleasure mixing with mine. My eyes close in bliss as I feel the surge of dominance, knowing that step by step, I own them completely.
Finally, I signal them to cease, my heels drawn back from their penetrated mouths. ‘Good boy,’ I praise, my voice thick with satisfaction. ‘Now stay on your knees and kiss my arch like you mean it—I own you step by step.’ With a final, devouring kiss, they seal their submission, and I stand tall, a goddess above her adoring pet, ready to begin the next stage of our seductive dance.
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