around his foot in pleasure and surprise. Typically he took the opportunity to push his foot further into my mouth.
‘You’re very wet. You’re lips are puffy. You’re obviously enjoying something we’re doing right now.’
I closed my eyes and kept sucking, my body responding as he pushed his fingers further into what was – to my shame – my wetness.
The room was silent except for the sound of me sucking his toes, and his fingers leisurely frigging me. In spite of myself I was wet, horny and desperate to come, pushing back on his hand as he shoved his fingers inside me.
He chuckled. ‘After all that glowering it turns out you like being made to lick and suck my feet. You actually like being treated like a slut, even in spite of yourself. Don’t you, slut?’
I ignored him and his repeated use of what he mockingly calls ‘the “s” word’, knowing he was trying to get a reaction. I reddened even more, but with my back to him and my hair falling in my face I knew he couldn’t see it. Instead I kept licking, thinking it was probably a good idea I was effectively gagged by his foot as otherwise I’d be bound to say something that got me into more trouble. Instead I tried desperately to focus on making him so happy he’d let me move on to something else. Which is very difficult indeed when you’re so desperate to come that despite it all you’d pretty much do anything for release.
As he brushed my clit with his thumb I whimpered with excitement, so close to coming despite everything. I think that’s when he came up with the idea.
‘You seem to really be enjoying worshipping my feet now.’ I huffed my annoyance through my nose, while pushing my tongue between his toes almost viciously. ‘I think I should make you keep sucking them until you come around my hand. That would be amusing wouldn’t it?’
Amusing wasn’t the word. I closed my eyes, trying desperately to blink back tears of fury and humiliation, knowing that in spite of how much I hated doing this he was going to be able to manipulate my body into getting the utmost pleasure from it. He upped the tempo, pushing his fingers harder and further inside me, jabbing my clit with his thumb with every thrust until my face was buried in his feet, and I was whimpering round his toes. I was going to ache tomorrow but his vicious, insistent penetration was doing its job and despite it all my orgasm built, then ebbed as he slowed things down, enjoying the power he was able to wield so effortlessly over me, before building it up again. And again.
I don’t know how long I licked him, although when I came my jaw was aching and my cries were almost croaky my mouth was so dry. By the end I had no awareness of anything but his hand and his foot. I was a primeval bundle of nerve endings, desperate to come, willing to do whatever he wanted, so long as he would let that happen and give me the release I craved. I’d have begged him for it, but instead I sucked his toes into my mouth as far as I could take them, licked the sole of his foot and wordlessly showed him I’d do anything for him, even something that an hour before I’d have said with confidence was a hard limit.
I once read somewhere that the key to sexual humiliation is not about making somebody do something they don’t want to do, it is about leading them to do things they secretly dream about doing. I can honestly say I had never dreamed of debasing myself in quite such a humiliating way and still blush when I think of it. At the same time, when I came around his fingers my orgasm was one of the most intense I’d had for a long time. And even as he made me lick his fingers clean of the sticky juice which proved how much I had enjoyed the unusual punishment, before pulling me down his body by my hair to suck him, I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have to do it again.
As was so often the case with Tom, he managed to stumble across something that affected me deeply, and that
‘You’re very wet. You’re lips are puffy. You’re obviously enjoying something we’re doing right now.’
I closed my eyes and kept sucking, my body responding as he pushed his fingers further into what was – to my shame – my wetness.
The room was silent except for the sound of me sucking his toes, and his fingers leisurely frigging me. In spite of myself I was wet, horny and desperate to come, pushing back on his hand as he shoved his fingers inside me.
He chuckled. ‘After all that glowering it turns out you like being made to lick and suck my feet. You actually like being treated like a slut, even in spite of yourself. Don’t you, slut?’
I ignored him and his repeated use of what he mockingly calls ‘the “s” word’, knowing he was trying to get a reaction. I reddened even more, but with my back to him and my hair falling in my face I knew he couldn’t see it. Instead I kept licking, thinking it was probably a good idea I was effectively gagged by his foot as otherwise I’d be bound to say something that got me into more trouble. Instead I tried desperately to focus on making him so happy he’d let me move on to something else. Which is very difficult indeed when you’re so desperate to come that despite it all you’d pretty much do anything for release.
As he brushed my clit with his thumb I whimpered with excitement, so close to coming despite everything. I think that’s when he came up with the idea.
‘You seem to really be enjoying worshipping my feet now.’ I huffed my annoyance through my nose, while pushing my tongue between his toes almost viciously. ‘I think I should make you keep sucking them until you come around my hand. That would be amusing wouldn’t it?’
Amusing wasn’t the word. I closed my eyes, trying desperately to blink back tears of fury and humiliation, knowing that in spite of how much I hated doing this he was going to be able to manipulate my body into getting the utmost pleasure from it. He upped the tempo, pushing his fingers harder and further inside me, jabbing my clit with his thumb with every thrust until my face was buried in his feet, and I was whimpering round his toes. I was going to ache tomorrow but his vicious, insistent penetration was doing its job and despite it all my orgasm built, then ebbed as he slowed things down, enjoying the power he was able to wield so effortlessly over me, before building it up again. And again.
I don’t know how long I licked him, although when I came my jaw was aching and my cries were almost croaky my mouth was so dry. By the end I had no awareness of anything but his hand and his foot. I was a primeval bundle of nerve endings, desperate to come, willing to do whatever he wanted, so long as he would let that happen and give me the release I craved. I’d have begged him for it, but instead I sucked his toes into my mouth as far as I could take them, licked the sole of his foot and wordlessly showed him I’d do anything for him, even something that an hour before I’d have said with confidence was a hard limit.
I once read somewhere that the key to sexual humiliation is not about making somebody do something they don’t want to do, it is about leading them to do things they secretly dream about doing. I can honestly say I had never dreamed of debasing myself in quite such a humiliating way and still blush when I think of it. At the same time, when I came around his fingers my orgasm was one of the most intense I’d had for a long time. And even as he made me lick his fingers clean of the sticky juice which proved how much I had enjoyed the unusual punishment, before pulling me down his body by my hair to suck him, I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have to do it again.
As was so often the case with Tom, he managed to stumble across something that affected me deeply, and that
Similar Books
