Today was supposed to be a typical session for my foot fetish submissive. He had been looking forward to it all week, nervously anticipating the chance to worship my feet in the most intimate way possible. But as soon as he arrived, I could tell that something was off. Instead of the usual eager anticipation, he looked uneasy and even a little frightened.
Curiosity piqued, I wondered what could be going through his mind. Had he done something wrong? Had he changed his mind about our arrangement? As I led him into the dimly lit room, I decided to confront him. "What's wrong, my little foot slave?" I purred, turning to face him with a predatory smile.
"Nothing, Mistress," he stammered, not meeting my gaze. "I'm just... nervous."
"Nervous?" I repeated, arching an eyebrow. "You should be. This is going to be a special kind of session."
His eyes widened in surprise, and then fear. Suddenly, I realized what I could do to really test his limits. "You know what they say about turning the tables, don't you?" I murmured, taking a step closer to him. He trembled beneath my gaze.
Without another word, I grabbed his head and positioned it between my legs. A moment of hesitation flashed across his face, before he shakily began to kiss and lick my bare feet. The feel of his tongue against my skin sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. But this was just the beginning.
As he worked his way up my calves, I couldn't help but wonder how far I could push him. Just as his lips neared my knees, I slipped into the adjacent bathroom. Minutes later, I emerged again, this time with my phone at the ready.
"Get on your knees," I commanded, my voice cold and emotionless. "And look up."
Hesitantly, he obeyed. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before they were drawn down to the object in my hand. His face paled as he realized what was about to happen.
"Please, Mistress," he begged, voice breaking. "Anything but that."
But it was already too late. With one swift motion, I positioned my ass above his face and allowed a stream of diarrhea to flow from my body onto his face. He choked back a scream of horror and disgust as warm, sticky shit covered his cheeks, nose, and chin.
"How does it feel to be used like this?" I asked softly, my voice devoid of emotion. "To have someone else control your very bodily functions?"
Tears streamed down his face as he tried to wipe away the filth covering him. "It's... it's horrible," he managed to get out between sobs.
I couldn't resist pushing him further. "Then imagine what comes next," I said darkly, stepping away from him and unzipping my fly.
As he stared, eyes wide with terror, I let loose a torrent of urine that splattered against his chest and ran down his body, drenching him from head to toe. The smell of piss filled the air, mingling with the stench of shit that now clung to us both.
When I was finished, I turned and walked towards the toilet. Without a word, he knew what he had to do. He crawled towards me, tongue hanging out of his mouth in anticipation of my next command.
"Open wide," I whispered, and he obeyed instantly. A shot of spit landed in his open mouth, and then another, and another. Each one landing with a sickening splat.
As I watched his face contort in disgust at the taste of my saliva mixed with his own vomit, I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. This was what he deserved, after all. A little taste of his own medicine.
Finally, once I was sure he had suffered enough, I pulled him up onto his feet and ushered him out of the room. As we walked back through the dimly lit hallway, he kept shaking his head in disbelief.
"I... I don't understand," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would you do this to me?"
I paused, once again turning to face him with a predatory grin. "Because," I whispered back, "the only way to truly appreciate your devotion is to push you beyond your limits. To break you down and build you back up again, just the way I want you."
And with that, I left him standing there, lost and confused, clinging to the last shreds of his sanity as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. Because in that moment, I had crossed a line that neither of us could ever uncross. And there was no going back.
