The beauty of being a sex slave is that you can explore some of the most eccentric fantasies imaginable. It’s best when it’s a sex-only relationship, because the other party is just as kinky and you don’t have to worry about fear of judgment from mutual friends or co-workers.
I knew my Goddess for close to a year. I purchased her worn panties twice a month before she mentioned one of her past slaves. I inquired on how I too, could become a slave, and she told me the price they paid and the acts they performed.
Earlier on, I learned the hard way that my likes and needs didn’t matter. I learned she called all the shots. She defined what it means to be submissive and whatever she says goes. I don’t critique, question, or argue with any of it. She is my everything.
I don’t know a thing about her personal life, but judging from her appearance, she had very refined taste, dressed well and was naturally beautiful. Even the bags she handed me her used panties in looked nice. She was creative but at first glance looked more like a honor student on a university campus than a dominant Goddess.
Her creativity also showed in her fetish scenarios. I was thrilled when she explained how her past slave paid her for an hour of her service. Twenty minutes paying for transportation to the movie theatre, twenty minutes paying for transportation back home, and twenty minutes with the slave laying on a disgusting movie theatre floor while his Goddess rested her feet on his face.
I told her I wanted to be her slave. I wanted to experience that movie theatre scenario. She took some time and I wasn’t sure if it would happen, but finally after a couple weeks, she said she would do it. She told me to figure out a good place and time.
I was so excited I could hardly breathe the day of our arrangement. I thought it was too good to be true and wouldn’t believe it until her feet were in my face. I had so many unanswered questions but knew better – there was no way I would bother her. I was only allowed to contact her on a set schedule anyways, and that was strictly for setting up financial arrangements.
She gave me instructions. You don’t argue. You pay me in full. And you are quiet the whole time. You aren’t even to be seen, let alone heard.
When the previews painstakingly concluded, I saw her walk in. She texted me, “Your time starts now. I’m not moving.”
I found her, paid her, and laid down. The floor was sticky and gross but that’s how attracted I was to her. I would literally lay down on a disgusting floor just to experience the bottom of her feet. She is all I think of, so when she gave instructions, I followed without hesitation. Sometimes I wonder if I’m getting dumber with every minute I spend with her, knowing I give up all control of my thoughts to her.
She took off her little brown wedge boots to reveal her polka dot socks. Don’t get the wrong impression, these subtle polka dots that showcased her good taste. It was so dark I couldn’t see the color, but I believe they were lavender with white dots, likely made some designer brand.
My dream was coming true – I was in shock. I almost started to cry from happiness. She kept her socks on which completely aligned with her personality. There was no way in hell she was placing her perfect little feet on that disgusting floor or my undeserving face. She was royalty.
“Rest her feet” was a bit of a misnomer. She shoved her size 6’s against my face as if she was trying to push my head through the floor. I was in so much pain but did not dare protest. This was a privilege. It went without saying that I was not allowed to touch her in the slightest, so I kept my arms by my sides.
With one foot on my throat, I eventually had to squirm and fight for air. The process repeated a few times over: I would struggle for air before she would reassert her dominance over me every single time, causing to me to give up and lose the fight.
At one point, I thought she was showing lenience by taking her feet off my face and placing them on the ground. I wanted to kiss them so bad. I tried but it resulted with her feet back on my face and throat, cranium pressed hard against the sticky floor.
My biggest hope was to get her toes in my mouth, but I was unable to do so. It’s like she knew my biggest turn-ons and made sure I never saw them through to actualization. She really did not care how much I paid her – we were playing completely by her rules and going with what she had in mind, not me. Any attempted kiss was cancelled by a kick to my forehead, followed by the pressure of her legs pressing down on me.
From time to time, I had views looking up, able to see her legs but unable to see her face. Afterwards, I thought about her perspective, watching the movie with only a couple other women in the theatre. I picked an early showing that was at the end of its run to make sure the theatre was semi-private.
My time was close to up when she rubbed her sock covered feet into the floor one last time. I finally put two and two together (she calls me dense almost every time we talk because of how slow I pick up on things): she was degrading me as much as humanly possible. Her feet were protected by socks, but I had nothing. She was pressing her socks into the floor knowing the material would absorb anything and everything on there, then placing those same socks on my face.
Now, I’m not a clean freak, but I’m a lot more hygienic than most. I wash my hands more than others, hell, I don’t even sit in the grass on parks unless I have a blanket because I’m so grossed out by old dog shit. I’m generally a bit paranoid of unsanitary conditions. Yet here I was laying on a floor that held people’s crumbs and god knows what from the bottom of their shoes, trafficked in from places like the restroom or the train station outside.
That’s how hot this woman is. She is so fucking beautiful that, despite being germaphobic, I would lay down on a theatre floor and gladly accept her feet on my face, knowing that just seconds before they had been pressed against god knows what.
All of this dawned on me before she returned her dirty sock covered-feet to my face. I began licking uncontrollably. First with slow, long strokes all along her arches, appreciating every second of this glorious opportunity to be so close to her feet. I didn’t care about the cotton getting stuck on my tongue – I was determined to lick until my time was up.
Her feet curled a bit as I licked both feet to the point where her socks were thoroughly moistened. I licked like my life depended on it, and before I knew it, she said my time was up.
I took once glance at her gorgeous feet. The angle was perfect. She didn’t want to press her now moist socks against the floor, so only her toes made contact with the floor, making her feet look like those of a ballerina.
I asked her instructions: “Leave”.
I crawled out of the aisle like a dog. I stopped in the restroom and gave myself a look. I already had a bruise forming on my neck, my head was sore, and I was even having trouble hearing out of one ear.
I thought about the next time I would see her to buy panties – how could I even look her in the eye? How could she ever respect anyone that did something so disgusting? And to get paid on top of it! The saddest part is that I’ll likely be instructed to get on my knees and thank her in broad daylight for allowing me such an honor.
How often do you think a man could make a woman do something like like his dirty movie theatre floor socks? This is the power of my Goddess, and this is why I have given her complete control of my thoughts and decisions.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/dmrfov/the_time_i_licked_her_socks_clean_in_a_movie