Bootcamps

Bootcamps

Parties!!

Enforcement

Training

Detention

“Fuck! I’m finally out of there!”

The sound of her curse was both a relief and an anxiety trigger for me. I was told to wait for Nicole’s friend outside the school steps until she was through with detention.

“I thought that asshole would never let me out of there. He sat across from me at his desk pretending to mark papers, but I knew what he was up to…” she spoke of our chemistry teacher who had kept her late today after she’d pissed him off by giggling uncontrollably in class.

“He was stealing glances at my legs constantly. That’s why I wore this skirt today, and these extra high tops.” She played with her skirt waving it side to side and pointed her foot at me. “I know he’s a pervert, and I wanted to catch him in the act.”

My eyes were frozen at her beautiful legs and all I could think about was how sweaty her tights must have gotten being trapped and encased by those high top converse all day.

“So did you know why I got stuck in detention today anyway?” she asked as she began to unlace one of her sneakers. I knew, but was too mesmerized by the thought of getting at her feet to say anything. “Do you know why you’ve been instructed to wait for me here today?” I figured it was another one of Nicole’s games, where she pimped my foot sniffing services out to her friends for everyone’s amusement.

“Well, I got busted laughing so hard because Nicole told me how much of a pervert you are.” I nodded in agreement. I liked that all of Nicole’s friends were taking advantage of me. “She told me you get off on cleaning sweat and stink out of feet by sniffing and licking them clean.” Her shoe popped off just as she had capped off her last sentence, much to my delight.

“Well isn’t that perfect…” she grinned and looked behind me. “The cheerleading squad just finished up practice and are all heading this way on their inside to change. “Let’s give them a little show – shall we?” She dropped her sneaker and lifted her foot to my face. Pressing myself in as I kneeled below her, I began to inhale all her musty odour and closed my eyes. I imagined all the cheerleaders walking by and wishing that it was their feet I was sniffing as well. I knew that day would come too, soon enough. With Nicole’s persistence, no female feet in our school would go uncleaned as long as I was on her watch. I am one lucky slut.

Coffee – Pt. 2

My day at the coffee shop was coming to a close. I liked to gauge the passage of time by the types of outfits women strolled in wearing. The mornings was typically buzzing with gym girls, some on their way while others on their way out – taking a break to catch up after their workouts. These were some of my favourite customers. Their sweaty feet soaking their sports socks and radiating heat they just pounded out on treadmills or studio floors.

Midday brought in the shopping crowd. Also a delectable gathering, albeit not as fun as the sweaty gym girls. The appeal lay more in the fashion however. More stockings and tights, exposing delicious legs and fabric covered sweat laden soles and toes. I also loved serving girls I knew were indulging in nothing but trivialities and vanity. Shopping for themselves to make themselves look better for their boyfriends and husbands. I lived for the humiliation of worshipping their feet while they discussed what they were going to wear to turn on the men in their lives. My panties swelled at the thought of it.

Afternoons brought in a motley mix of characters. By then my face was typically smothered in foot sweat and spit used to clean several pairs of feet. I was well used well broken in; ready for anything a fickle woman would throw my way. I was lucky that it was late summer. Fall clothes had just hit the stores and as per usual, stockings and tights were well represented on the menu. September still had its hot and humid days and the trapped sweat in stockings was enough to dine on for the entire day.

Brenda was another regular customer whose game I had now become accustomed to. Unlike others who took a delight in being served, she was a true Domme. She enjoyed torturing me by exerting her proximity and presence. She had me kneel below her and admire her legs, feet and shoes while she blatantly ignored me. Checking her smart-phone, reading magazines or simply looking wistfully out the window, she barely looked at me while gluing my undivided attention at her best assets.

“So close… yet so very far,” she teased and crossed her legs for the umpteenth time.

The insides of my panties were entirely crusted up with pre-cum now.

Coffee

Coffee?

She sighed with relief as she set her bag down and crossed her legs. Still wearing her sunglasses she adjusted her windblown hair and turned to the barista.

“One caramel latte please,” she ordered. “With the special.”

She hung on to the long ‘L’ at the end of the phrase, while the barista rang the bell which had been sitting silent at the end of the bar. That was my queue. I knew I had another ‘cutomer’.

I crawled out from behind the bar and situated myself below her stool. I assumed a submissive position, which was easy considering that I was wearing nothing but a pair of frilly boy-short panties and a collar around my neck.

“Awww… there’s my little foot puppy,” she cooed. “Now be a good little bitch and service my feet!”

She didn’t have to ask twice. I knew my place. Ever since Nicole got the idea to open an all women’s coffee shop, I had been a vital part of her service staff. My job was to entertain the patrons, and make them feel more ‘comfortable’. As soon as word spread about my foot cleaning skills, it became the talk of the neighbourhood. All kinds of women came in to have a little extra with their coffee. Saturdays however, were my favourite.

Like most days, the shop filled with women in their twenties and thirties, all busy hopping around town from shopping, to the gym, to dates with their boyfriends. Usually in a hurry, they didn’t have time to waste.

I had served Natalie before and even remembered the scent of her feet. Thick and musty, usually leather but sometimes rubber as well, mixed with sweat and the aftertaste of her soap. Today she was wearing a pair of converse and some very well work stockings. I could tell by how well the material had faded on the soles. I removed the first shoe and took a deep whiff.

“Not the shoe you little bitch. Clean my feet! I don’t have all the time in the world you know?”

Catching a glimpse of her haughty huff burned humiliation and shame into my psyche. My panties were starting to show a wet spot yet again.

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