“Smell my feet, you little pervert. I want them to be the ONLY thing you smell,” Noelle said condescendingly. “AND don’t touch my feet with your hands!”
I only moaned in return. I don’t know how long she kept me on the floor with her feet covering my face, but I couldn’t get enough. The soft texture of the nylons mixed with her sweat continued to make me ache. I desperately wanted to touch her highly arched feet but I didn’t want to disobey the young goddess dominating me.
After what seemed like a good hour, she had enough of me being her footstool.
“You’ve been such a good little foot boy,” she teased me as she talked. “I think you have earned the right to worship my feet with only your tongue now.”