I am Mistress Moxi’s devoted foot sl*ve, and She has commanded me to write this recount of a day in my life as Her foot sl*ve— so the world may witness my utter submission:

I am on my knees in the kowtow position, steel b*ndage chains clank around my wrists and ankles and a short leash is attached to my collar waiting to tether me to my Mistress’s control. All this is to ensure, I never forget my b*tch place in Her presence. I tremble in both fear and excitement as my owner’s high heels clatter to the floor as she walks towards me, before majestically sitting on the sofa in front and yanking my leash taut. Before me tower Her glorious red-bottom Louboutin heels—crimson soles gleaming, the stiletto spikes sharp enough to pierce flesh or pride.

“My foot is really tired, give it a kiss,” she orders, voice like silk over steel. I cradle her foot with my hands and press my lips in reverent kisses to the smooth, porcelain white skin of my Mistress’s foot. I kiss and worship every inch of her foot that was not covered by her high heel like the tender b*tch that I am. My heart races when I hear those affirming words from my owner “good boy!”. She soon rewards me with the privilege to worship her Louboutins and guides my attention along its sleek ridge. As I perform my duty, my Mistress makes me more useful by using my back as footstool for her other foot. As I feel the weight on her foot on my back and neck, I thank her silently from the bottom of my heart “thank you Mistress, thank you for letting me fulfill my destiny as your footbitch!”

I anticipate it but I became an excited puppy when She finally gives the command to “take off Mistress’s shoes!” As I remove her Louboutins, it reveals her perfect jade feet—high arches, obsidian c*loured pedicure. The room fills with the warm, musky perfume of Her feet after hours in patent leather. My mouth waters on instinct as I neatly and carefully place her high heels on the floor. She has trained me well. To me, these shoes are Her crown; they proclaim Her absolute power and authority, just as a queen’s diadem declares dominion over nations. Before I was an ignorant and st*pid b*tch sl*ve and failed to show her high heels the respect and care they deserve when putting them on the ground. So I have been beaten countless times— by whip, crop and hand —until I learned to tremble in reverence at their sight.

“Head down, smell!” She pushes my head down and tramples on the back on my head, burying my nose in the warm leather. Her mesmerising fragrance floods me: divine sweat infused with female supremacy. This is part of Her foot sl*ve training: She demands my c*ck salute instantly at the sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch of anything Hers. A single whiff should make me throb. So I am very ashamed to be unable to have my p*nis fly at full mast but I appreciate my Mistress for her patience and generosity. She orders me to massage her divine foot while her other foot teases and plays with my p*nis and b*lls. My Mistress aggressively grabs my shaft between her toes - I can feel her Alpha Female energy - her intense desire to own me and love me as Her b*tch, Her sl*ve, Her property. I cannot help myself and my pathetic c*ck starts to get drippy as she caresses my scrotal raphe. I pray that she would not notice. However, I think she does but she must be in a generous mood as she is not punishing me... yet.

She flexes her seductive toes in my face as I massage her soles. She orders me to smell her feet before thrusting them into my face over my nose— I had no choice but to suck air through the gaps between Her toes, whimpering. While this was happening, she targets my shaft with her spare foot with surgical precision — her toes make controlled teasing strokes along my penile raphe culminating at the frenulum — I’m panting, my breath comes heavy. I am in heaven.

Mistress orders me to lower my head and support my body my hands on the ground. She pushes her foot into my mouth and orders me to suck and l*ck. And that I do as if my life depends on it. She plants the other foot squarely on my head, grinding down to remind me of Her supreme power and my lowly status. My head is merely a footstool to my Mistress, my Owner, my Queen. I could feel her flexing her toes on the crown of my head as deeper She pushes—f*cking my mouth with Her foot, toes sliding to the back of my throat until I gag, tears streaming, drool pooling beneath me. “That’s it, good boy.” The words of encouragement served to amplify the humiliation that reminds me that I am forever bound to the strict Asian Mistress who owns every inch of me. After my Mistress is pleased with my servitude and worship of her divine feet, she makes me lie down on the cold hardwood floor. My c*ck finally rises to the occasion and offers Her a full salute — because it knows it is about to be milked...

Humiliation Female Domination Foot Fetish Life of a Foot Sl*ve to a Strict Asian Mistress with C4s.com