Entering the Dungeon
Nervously my finger pressed the buzzer. Within ten seconds, the release mechanism clicked and opened the door. I pushed it ajar and entered a dimly lit hallway. A staircase lay in front of me, leading down to a single ominous black door. I walked down and knocked.
“You may enter,” was the quick, curt reply.
Sheepishly, I entered and closed the door behind me.
The Mistress’s Lair
The room was spacious and painted a matte black with a cold stone floor. Recessed lights in the ceiling were dimmed to give a low glow. The striking furnishings and the various chains and restraints which hung from the wall gave no illusion that this was anything other than a dungeon.
Directly in front of me, across the other side of the room, was a large, dark wooden throne. Sat on the throne with her legs crossed and her arms folded was my new mistress. She was dressed in a shiny black PVC catsuit which clung to her beautifully shaped physique. The PVC covered her entire body, revealing only a tempting show of cleavage and her hands. Ending just above her ankles, it revealed her beautiful feet.
She was wearing black strappy patent high heels, with the most exquisite feet I had ever seen. They were perfectly shaped and accentuated by the high curve in the shoe. Her toenails were painted a deep red, a stunning contrast to the black PVC. Adorning her right ankle was a silver ankle bracelet with a small key attached—a key that, unbeknownst to me at that time, would be the key that would hold me as her slave.
Submission and Collaring
“Take off your clothes!”
I immediately took off my shirt, trousers, and underwear and threw them in the corner of the room. I immediately felt both embarrassed and humbled to be standing naked in front of this powerful dominatrix.
“Get down on your knees and crawl to me.”
I dropped to my knees and began to crawl on all fours, feeling the coldness of the stone floor. When I got to within a meter of her throne, she looked down at me.
“That’s enough, stop right there.”
I felt so powerless, kneeling in front of this beautiful woman who was controlling my every move and consuming my every thought.
Uncrossing her legs and stepping down off the throne and onto the floor, she walked over to the wall and unhooked a dog collar and a pair of wrist cuffs with a short chain attached linking each cuff. As she came closer, I could see the inscription in bold letters on the collar: “SLAVE.”
She walked slowly behind me and attached the thick leather collar around my neck, strapping it tight. Then, grabbing my arms and hoisting them up, she put the leather cuffs around each of my wrists. She then took out a small padlock and hooked it around the hoop on the front of my new “SLAVE” collar. Then, grabbing the chain between my bound wrists, she clasped it midway to the neck collar, thus restraining my arms from moving more than a few short inches away from my face and, most importantly, ensuring I couldn’t touch myself and thus deny me any pleasure until that little key dangling from her ankle unlocked the padlock. I knew it was going to be some time before that privilege was bestowed upon me.
Becoming a Footslave
Then a leash of chain was attached to the back of my collar. The chain rattled above my head as some of the cold links touched my back. Holding the leash in one hand, she walked slowly around me, putting her finger under my chin to ensure I was staring at waist level, my head positioned upright, my eyes strained downwards trying to get a glimpse of her feet once more, as she circled my naked body with her sexy high heels clicking loudly with each slow, teasing step.
“Now… Now you are my FOOTSLAVE. You will beg and grovel at my feet. You will be mine to tease, torment, and punish. Is that understood, slave!”
“Yes… Yes, I understand.”
“Yes, MISTRESS!!”
“Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress.”
As I replied, my head fell, and my eyes caught sight of her beautiful feet.
“Did I give you permission to look down at my feet? Did I, slave!”
“No, Mistress, sorry, Mistress.”
“Don’t you dare look at my feet until I allow you to. Is that understood, slave!”
“Yes, Mistress, sorry, Mistress.”
I was completely at her mercy.
“So, slave, you have a foot fetish, don’t you? You love looking at women’s feet, always wanting to kiss, lick, and worship them. You’re such a pathetic little footslave, aren’t you!”
“Yes, Mistress, I am a pathetic footslave.”
“Well, you’re going to be my footslave now. You see where my black PVC catsuit ends? Well, that is where you begin, foot boy. You belong at my feet, you pathetic little slave.”
With that, she sat back up on the throne, dragging me towards her with the leash.
“Lie on your back with your head below my feet, slave.”
“Yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress.”
Immediately, I lay under her as she crossed her legs and dangled her high heel over my face.
“Kiss the soles of my shoes and remove them for me, footslave.”
Using my elbow, I angled myself and strained to kiss the black patent sole of her shoes just as instructed, and then, with my hands still restricted, I unbuckled the high heel straps and gently slipped off her stiletto shoes, revealing her beautiful soles resting just inches above my eyes and lips.
“Well, well. What a good, obedient little foot slave you are. I think I might give you a treat, foot slave. I am going to allow you to lie below my beautiful feet, and you will be allowed to look at my soles, and my arches, and my toes. You’re such a lucky little footboy, aren’t you!”
“Oh yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress.”
As I lay under her feet, lying naked on the cold floor with my cock standing to full attention, I was truly mesmerized by her exquisite, soft, shapely soles. I stared in awe at what lay before me, something that was so pleasing to my loins but yet so unattainable.
“Now you are not allowed to lick my feet, but I want you to stick your tongue out so Mistress can tease you. You will always have your tongue ready to serve my feet, but I will decide when I will allow you to lick them – tongue out, slave!!”
I stuck my tongue out as far as it could go, raising my head, trying to reach the sole with my lapping tongue, but it was only to heighten my arousal and tease me further. My foot Mistress had no intention of allowing her slave to lick her feet.
I lay underfoot for what seemed like an eternity, awestruck by the beauty of her feet that now dangled over my head. I craved the slightest touch of her beautiful feet.
The Foot Stool and the Begging
“Get back on your knees, slave.”
With my wrists bound so close to my neck, I awkwardly rolled on the floor like a pathetic worm and gracelessly knelt before my new Queen. Too humbled to make eye contact, my head stooped downward, receiving a visual foot treat. Instantly, my Mistress raised her foot below my chin, her beautiful red manicured toenails just inches from my wanton mouth.
“Now, foot slave, I want you to be my foot stool for the next few hours – prostrate yourself before me, slave.”
Removing her controlling foot from my chin, I put my hands on the floor. The slave collar and chains also dragged my head down to floor level. I knelt before her with my back hunched so her feet could rest comfortably.
“That’s where you belong, footslave, below Mistress’s feet at all times, isn’t that right, footslave!”
