I was inspired by a story I read a long time ago to create this 'game.' Fleshed the idea out a bit over the course of a month or so, but it never actually led anywhere, so I figured I'd just release it as a short story right here.
Enjoy. =)
Your first college girlfriend had always been a troublesome one. You sat next to her in class, and later offered to help her with the homework, which would casually turn into nightly study sessions. One such night, after a long and stressful day, you offered her a foot massage. While she accepted your offer, the following conversation was particularly revealing – that is, the reveal of your intimate love of feet. This was the moment that sparked everything…
Your girlfriend, at least in the beginning, wasn't too thrilled with your foot fetish. It was a delicate subject to touch, as her feet had been subjected to playful, ticklish games as a child. She possessed an innate distrust for anything trying to get at her feet, but you were kind in your approach, unwilling to force her into any situations that seemed too extreme. Her feet were as beautiful as they were lovely, after all, and it was a delight merely to be trusted with them. However, that fated day was slowly approaching, and you could feel the dynamic of your relationship shifting ever so slightly…
Sure enough, a special request came straight from her mouth: “I want you to lick my soles.” That night changed everything completely. She became intoxicated with a certain power that came from having you worship her feet. She grew far more dominant and possessive, lusting more and more than she ever had before. The power that her feet gave over you was bewitching; it was like dating a changed woman. No longer were there boundaries when it came to exploring your foot fetish. However, during this time, she also grew distant. Your daily meetings, while filled with love, tenderness, and foot worship, became weekly. Then those weekly meetings became monthly. It wasn’t long until you realized that you had barely even seen your girlfriend the entire semester. You wondered why she had gone so silent, despite enjoying your connection so much…
Your texts went unnoticed, and your calls unanswered. You had been forgotten, until the fateful afternoon when you received word from your girlfriend. It explained nothing of her disappearance, and only containing a simple invitation to a party that her sorority was throwing the following night.
Despite the growing number of questions, you were excited to receive this invite. You girlfriend desired your presence once more, and you accepted without a hint of hesitation. This was your chance to reclaim that fruitful relationship…
Arriving at the party, you were greeted by your girlfriend. She hugged you warmly, having reserved a couch in the center of the social room just for the two of you to sit and chat upon. This gesture, while it seemed loving and earnest, was slightly displaced by the fact that your girlfriend was already barefoot. You had noticed her iconic high heels sitting at the entrance to the building, a lovely pair of shoes she rarely parted with during these types of gatherings. However, it was not these shoes that surprised you, but the several dozen unique pairs strewn about the entrance to the sorority. There were oxfords, sandals, flip-flops, and a broad assortment of high-heels. All of these shoes shared one thing in common: they were prepared for slender and feminine feet. The question of where they came from soon became obvious, as you found every woman at this party to have stripped their feet bare.
Still, you grabbed that couch together with your girlfriend, and chatted the night away. Conversation had always been a strong point. She was bright, quick-witted, and very open – especially about sex. Such an intelligent woman, and, for this night, she was all yours.
As the clock inched closer to midnight, the party died down. A number of the patrons had gone, leaving the sorority slightly more drunk than they had arrived, collecting their shoes from the front as they emptied out of the building. This assortment of shoes dwindled until only a dozen pairs remained. And, the owners, you would find, had abandoned their shoes for a specific reason…
"Alright, ladies!" She grabbed the focus of the room.
You were surprised to see that the attention was drawn, not to your girlfriend, but to you. As the room went silent, the remaining sorority girls approached you, gently pawing the ground with their naked soles. Their steps were soft and delicate, as if not to disturb an easily startled animal.
"Girls, this is my boyfriend."
The women of the sorority clustered around you, forming a semi-circle in their attempt to take a look.
"He's the one with the foot fetish?" One of the girls asked. You were shocked to hear those words exit her mouth. Your foot fetish was secret – only your girlfriend would have shared such an intimate part of her private life…
"I told them what a rush it was to have your feet worshiped, but, lo and behold, most of them haven’t even encountered a guy with a foot fetish before." A devilish, little smirk appeared on your girlfriend's face.
You were trying to handle this news, as a primal sensation grew in the pit of your stomach, expanding outward and further into your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly, knowing your deepest, darkest secret had been revealed – not just to a bunch of woman, but of currently barefoot women. An erotic tension flooded your mind, blinding you to their easily identifiable desires.
"If we're going to keep talking, then either you girls will need to wear socks or I'm gonna need to wear a blindfold." A nervous chuckle followed, struggling to control your decency amidst this pack of barefoot women.
“Exactly what we had in mind.” Another girl walked up, pulling a folded blindfold from her bra. It had the same look as a sleeping mask, but perhaps slightly more malicious in its purpose.
As if to enact out a plan, the girls ominously closed in on you, surrounding you and pulling you off the couch. As if to reaffirm her dominance over you, your girlfriend leaned into your ear. "Don't resist."
You obeyed. Her word was your command, and you followed her orders to the letter. The sorority girls laid you on the floor lengthways in front of the couch you once sat on, while the rest that weren’t preoccupied with your limbs pushed another couch towards you – this one on your other side. The moment you realized what was happening, the sleeping mask was applied to your face. Blind and vulnerable, the girls continued, procuring some manner of cotton scarf with which to bind your wrists above your head. Once more, a lengthy scarf was applied this time to your ankles. You had been stretched across the floor, blinded and completely immobile, placed between two couches that both faced you, as if you were some sort of ornament. Anyone who sat down on these sofas could easily gain access to you, but only with their feet – an outcome which must have been the objective all along.
Your girlfriend teased your helpless situation. "We've been waiting for a long time to play this game."
"Game??" You asked, feeling particularly at their mercy in these moments you awaited the answer.
”Why did you think I invited you? It’s so that my sisters can enjoy you as I have.” Your girlfriend stroked your cheek with her cold, naked sole. Her blunt words felt like a betrayal, and yet there was an inexplicable excitement surging within you. To be released into this den of vipers, led here by your girlfriend herself, you found yourself submitting – not to your girlfriend – but to the rest of her sorority. This was a gathering of barefoot women looking to use their feet in new ways, and you were their test subject.
An unfamiliar voice, authoritative but gentle, recited the rules of the game.
"The goal of the game is to find your girlfriend’s feet. Every minute, one of us twelve is going to put our feet on your face. You’re to do nothing but sniff our feet, but… at any point during this time, you’re allowed to ‘make a selection’ by kissing the feet on your face.”
“If you choose incorrectly," the girl continued, "for a duration of ten minutes, you'll be expected to worship the feet of your selection. She'll keep her feet on your face until the alarm goes off, and then we’ll just continue from there, working back into the rotation until you make another choice. Although, there is one more rule..."
"You have up until your third try to find my feet." Your girlfriend chimed in this last a final time. "If you lose, I'm giving you to the sorority…"
You were shocked and confused. How many feet would you kiss this night? How many feet would you choose, and worship for an eternity, only for your choice to be incorrect? This game took all the odds and stacked them against you, and surely for a good purpose. This was a game they expected you to lose…
Before you could ask what signaled the start of the game, or even protest its potential outcome, the game began. You heard the little beep of a timer. It was quiet, probably digital, and easy to overwrite amidst the anxiety that clouded your mind. This was the clock that would herald each new pair of feet to adorn your face.
Within moments, one of the girls had done just that. She placed her feet across the width of your face – one foot across your blindfold, with her other foot scrunched over your mouth. Her feet came together over your nostrils to form an open, breathable channel that seemed to flow straight through the gap between her arches. This was neither accident nor coincidence, as this girl seemed methodical in achieving this position. She wanted to ‘allow you’ to breath, but only after the air been tainted by the scent of her feet. They smelled of stale body wash, with a most overpowering scent of dried sweat that had been pressed against hardwood floors all night. This combination froze your thoughts. You inhaled deeply, breath after breath, allowing this unique scent to tantalize your nostrils. She must have thought the same, as each surge of hot air that exited your lungs made her soles scrunch and toes clench. This narrowed the gap, as this girl pressed her arches together, further isolating your breath. This had the inadvertent, but not entirely displeasing, effect of being forced to absorb more and more of her scent. As the aroma grew stronger, you grew closer and more attached. The smell of her feet, a mix between fruity and filthy, was a complex interaction. You sniffed time and time again, every breath leaving you craving another…
And then, suddenly, you heard a little chirp.
With this chirp, the feet you had grown so accustomed to left your face, and were instead replaced by another pair. Had that actually been a minute? It was hard to tell, as your mind was racing with ecstasy and suspense. Your senses had been surging from breathing the scent of a goddess, and now you found another. You focused on these new feet, instantly overwhelmed by the strength of her footsweat. Her soles damp with perspiration, the powerful, sweat-ridden aroma of her soles was muddied only by the scent of heavily-worn cotton socks – ones she must have left at the entrance. The smell of her feet was as addictive as it was pungent, and she wordlessly mocked your desire to sniff them. She traced your lips with her toes, toying with you, trying to goad you into an early ten minute foot worship session, while she kept her other foot clamped onto your nose, allowing you to embrace her feminine aroma. You were certain – these were your girlfriend’s feet. They were of about the right size and dimensions, smallish and slender, and this sadistic teasing had been a staple of your relationship ever since she allowed you to worship her feet. You wanted to win, and you wanted to worship your girlfriend’s feet…
Pursing your lips, you kissed the toes that taunted you so.
With a quick, manual beep of the timer, it was revealed that you had made your first mistake.
"I think he chose me!" An unfamiliar voice called out, giggling non-stop while the rest of the girls tried to stifle their laughter. This was not your girlfriend. You paused, embarrassed by your weakness. But, the price for your error had not yet been paid, and you were required to worship this girl’s feet…
Without any warning, this girl wedged her big toe into your mouth and started intermingling with your tongue. The taste was incredible. It was a saltiness that instantly imparted her dominance over you, while you finally got a feel for the feminine contours of her foot – even if with your tongue. Despite the surprise that you had made such a critical mistake, you licked. You licked, and licked, and licked, losing your mind to the ecstasy of such an intimate and satisfying moment.
Her feet pressed against your face even harder, forcing more toes into your maw. "Get to work, buddy!"
She slid her entire forefoot in and out of your mouth, playfully only allowing you the chance to lick a few of her toes at a time. This maneuver left you wanting, as the humiliation you suffered for making the incorrect choice was slowly being replaced by the desire to worship this girl's feet. Finally, she stopped playing her games and jammed as many of her toes into your mouth as possible. Up to her forefoot in your mouth, you lapped every crevice in-between her toes, with as much ferocity as possible. The build-up of flavor in these hard-to-reach places was noticeable, and the opportunity to slither your tongue through the gaps of her toes was wholly satisfying. As it turned out, though, she was quite ticklish here. Each flick of your tongue would result in her clenching her toes together, or wiggling them apart. Within the limited capacity of your maw, this vixen was at your mercy, as your tongue was the only part of you capable of dishing back the teasing and mischievousness she shared so heartily.
For what felt like an eternity, even if it was one you desired to never end, you licked these feet clean. You had applied your tongue in ways that often left the recipient giggling with a combination of surprise and ticklishness. You had to wonder what your girlfriend was thinking, watching you lick the feet of another woman. Did she even care that your tongue was no longer just hers? It may have been a simple rouse, you pondered, a relationship she started with the hope of one day sharing you with her sisters. This thought fizzled from your mind as quickly as your current mistress introduced one of her heels to you, a gift which you cherished and immediately worshiped. A couple kisses to those rounded, smooth contours flowed into some more passionate licking. You felt her other foot leave your face, instead placed upon your chest as she laid back and enjoyed the sensations on her one foot. Lost in a torrent of heat and confusion, the timer called the end of this first error of yours – chirp!
This night of submission was long from over, but this chapter of it had come to a close. Your dreams of containing your erection had long been forgotten. The bulge in your pants was completely visible, standing at attention for all to view after you had licked the toes of this budding dominatrix.
You heard whispers above you, their origins unknown, but certainly not from your girlfriend. An assorted variety of comments, most specifically, “I can’t wait for my turn!” and “Did he really get hard from that?”
"I guess I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed that, huh?” As the girl you’d worshiped so intimately removed her feet, you felt her step on your erection, giving it a playful, if not vigorous rub, before returning her feet to the floor. It was clear that she had begrudgingly followed the rules, as an affectionate whimper was held within her throat the second the rotation was set to continue.
It had been so long since you heard your girlfriend’s voice, and this little, dangerous thought in the back of your mind kept ringing. You were afraid that, not only had she simply brought you here to loan you out to the sorority, but that she wasn’t even in the room anymore. Your mind was racing, as the true helplessness of the situation began to set in… it was impossible to win.
The rules of the game were clear, and the fact that you happily submitted yourself to these girls only made the eventual conclusion that much more real: you were going to become the sorority’s own footslave, to be brought, borrowed, lent, and sold. Tonight was proof of that. Now, bound to the floor, with a collection of excited women waiting for an opportunity to pleasure their soles with your face, you quieted your inner thoughts and waited – and with this silence, another pair of feet arrived.
This "game" was never going to end…
:-D Great story.
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