Graduation Foot Worship

James's graduation day was supposed to be the pinnacle of his academic journey. Instead, it became the beginning of a nightmarish descent into a world of depravity and humiliation. Throughout his college years, James harbored an overwhelming fetish for footwear, something he kept hidden from most. However, Lisa, his former RA, had always sensed his peculiar interest. She had caught him sneaking glances at her feet, his eyes lingering a little too long on her shoes.

James’s secret was no secret to Lisa. With her size 10 feet, perfectly polished white toenails, and a penchant for cork wedges, Lisa knew exactly how to get under James’s skin. She would often tease him, dangling her shoes in front of him, slipping them off and letting him catch glimpses of her feet. “You like what you see, James?” she’d taunt, enjoying the way he’d squirm with barely concealed desire.

Graduation day should have been a celebration, but for James, it was a day of reckoning. Amidst the joy and jubilation, James found himself drawn to the array of footwear around him. High heels, wedges, Birkenstocks—you name it, he was obsessed. Unable to control his urges, he started worshipping the shoes, licking the soles and sniffing the insoles with disturbing fervor. The horrified stares from parents and graduates only fueled his sick obsession, pushing him deeper into his fetish-fueled haze.

Lisa watched from a distance, a wicked glint in her eye. She saw an opportunity to exploit James’s perversion for her amusement. After security finally dragged him away, Lisa approached him. “James, come with me,” she said, her voice dripping with mock concern. “I know what you need.”

James, desperate and humiliated, followed Lisa back to her apartment. Once inside, she revealed her arsenal of footwear: cork wedges, disgustingly dirty Crocs, grungy sandals, and an old pair of gym sneakers. "You're going to worship every single one of these," she declared, kicking off her cork wedges to reveal her perfectly polished white toenails. James fell to his knees, his tongue tracing every filthy inch, savoring the grime and sweat like it was the finest wine.

Lisa wasn’t satisfied with just James’s humiliation. She called her friends over, instructing them to bring their dirtiest shoes. Sarah, Olivia, Victoria, Caitlyn, Vanessa, and Olivia arrived with bags full of filthy footwear. Sarah had size 9 feet with white toenails and primarily wore open-toed sandals and Crocs. Olivia had size 7.5 feet with black toenails and favored open-toed sandals and cork wedges. Victoria, with her size 11 feet and purple toenails, wore tall cork heels and had a particularly cruel streak. Caitlyn had size 8 feet with white toenails and preferred white tall block heels. Vanessa had size 6 feet with blue toenails and primarily wore black block heels. Finally, Olivia, with her size 6.5 feet and white toenails, always wore Uggs without socks, no matter the season.

"Tonight, our little pet will worship your shoes and feet," Lisa announced. The women took turns shoving their shoes in James’s face. Sarah started by pushing her dirty Crocs into James’s face. "Clean them, slave," she commanded. James licked them, gagging on the taste but too desperate to stop. Olivia presented her filthy sandals next, and James’s tongue traced the insoles, savoring the salty grime.

Victoria, enjoying her dominance, stepped forward in her tall cork heels. "These need some attention, slave," she said, pushing them towards James with her foot. Then, she pressed her heel on top of his head, forcing him to the ground. "Don’t miss a spot," she sneered, her purple toenails glistening.

Caitlyn dropped a piece of food onto the floor and stepped on it. "Eat this, dog," she commanded, grinding it into the floor with her heel. James scrambled to lick it up, tasting the combination of food and dirt. Her white-painted toes were a cruel reminder of his utter servitude.

Vanessa, with her blue toenails, pushed her black block heels into James’s face. "Clean these," she ordered. James licked the dirt and grime from her shoes, savoring the salty, leathery taste.

Olivia, who never wore socks with her Uggs, watched with a sadistic grin. She kicked off her Uggs, revealing her sweaty, grime-covered feet. "Lick my feet clean, slave," she demanded. James complied, his tongue tracing every curve of her feet, savoring the taste of sweat and filth.

As the women settled in for dinner, Lisa had a new twisted idea. "Alright, ladies, let's make our little pet eat like the dog he is," she announced. She snapped her fingers, and James was dragged over to the dining area. The women began to eat, deliberately dropping pieces of their meal onto the floor.

"Time to eat, slave," Lisa commanded, shoving a plate of mashed potatoes towards James. She then stepped on it with her cork wedges, grinding it into the floor. "Lick it up, every last bit."

Sarah dropped a piece of fried chicken onto the floor and pressed it under her Crocs. "Come on, James, clean this up," she taunted, twisting her foot to smear the meat into the ground. James scrambled to lick the mashed mess, tasting the combination of food and dirt.

Olivia, enjoying the cruelty, dropped sauce-covered meatballs onto the floor and stepped on them with her cork wedges. "Don't miss any, slave," she sneered, mashing them further into the floor. James obediently licked the meatballs and grime, gagging on the taste but too desperate to stop.

Victoria, laughing, dropped three pieces of dinner rolls covered with butter and ground them under her tall cork heels. "Eat it all, slave," she commanded. Then, she pressed her heel onto his head again for good measure. James licked the bread crumbs and filth, savoring the salty, dirty taste.

Caitlyn dropped some mac and cheese onto the floor and pressed it under her white tall block heels. "Clean this up, dog," she ordered, her white-polished toes a stark contrast to the dirty floor. James eagerly licked the mac and cheese and dirt, the taste overwhelming his senses.

Vanessa dropped chicken pot pie onto the floor and stepped on it with her black block heels. "Eat up, slave," she said, pushing the pie into the floor. James licked the pie and grime, his tongue tracing every filthy inch.

Olivia, not wanting to be left out, dropped a piece of cake onto the floor and pressed it under her Uggs. "Lick it clean," she demanded, her white toenails gleaming. James licked the cake and dirt, the taste of sweat and filth mingling on his tongue.

To add to the degradation, Lisa and Victoria decided to fill James's drinking water bowl with their own unique twist. Lisa dipped her cork wedges into the bowl, swirling them around. "Here's your drink, slave," she said, setting the bowl down in front of him. The water was now tainted with the taste of dirt and sweat from her shoes.

Victoria, laughing wickedly, followed suit. “Drink up, dog,” she commanded, dipping her own cork wedges into the bowl. James lapped up the filthy water, the taste of dirt and grime filling his mouth, mixing with the remnants of spaghetti and mashed potatoes.

Satisfied that their pet had been adequately humiliated, Lisa and her friends continued their dinner, periodically dropping more food onto the floor and making James lick it up. Every morsel was crushed under their shoes, ensuring that James’s meal was a disgusting mix of food, dirt, and sweat.

James, exhausted and humiliated, was then ordered to worship their shoes properly. The sight of their perfectly polished toenails—white, black, and blue—was a constant reminder of his utter degradation and servitude. Each woman took turns shoving their filthy shoes in his face, making James lick and clean them to their satisfaction.

Sarah, pushing her Crocs into James’s face, sneered at him. “You missed a spot, slave,” she taunted, grinding the dirty sole into his face. James obediently licked every inch, his tongue tracing the grooves filled with grime and filth.

Olivia, not wanting to be outdone, shoved her cork wedges into James’s face. “Make them spotless, dog,” she commanded, her black toenails glistening. James licked the dirt and sweat from her shoes, savoring the salty taste.

Victoria, her tall cork heels dirty from the crushed dinner rolls, pushed them into James’s face. “Clean them thoroughly, slave,” she ordered, pressing her heel onto his head once more for good measure. James’s tongue traced the curves of her heels, licking up every crumb and speck of dirt.

Caitlyn, with her white tall block heels smeared with mac and cheese, pressed them against James’s face. “Get to work, dog,” she demanded. James eagerly licked the heels clean, the cheesy and dirty taste overwhelming his senses.

Vanessa, her black block heels sticky with chicken pot pie, pushed them into James’s face. “Don’t miss any, slave,” she said, her blue toenails a stark contrast to the grime. James licked the pie and dirt from her shoes, his tongue tracing every inch.

Olivia, her Uggs smeared with cake, pressed them into James’s face. “Make them spotless, dog,” she commanded, her white toenails gleaming. James licked the cake and dirt from her boots, the taste of sweat and filth mingling on his tongue.

The women continued their torment, each taking turns making sure James thoroughly cleaned their shoes. His tongue traced every groove and crevice, removing the grime, food, and dirt they had accumulated. The sight of their perfectly polished toenails—white, black, and blue—was a constant reminder of his utter degradation and servitude.

As the night drew on, the women became more inventive with their cruelty. They began to play a game, each taking turns coming up with increasingly humiliating tasks for James. “Let’s see how good he is at polishing,” Olivia suggested with a wicked grin. She handed a bottle of nail polish to James. “Polish my toenails, slave, and don’t you dare mess up,” she commanded.

James carefully took Olivia’s foot and began to apply the black polish to her toenails, his hands shaking with a mix of fear and arousal. The women laughed and taunted him, making it even harder for him to concentrate. When he finished, Olivia inspected his work with a critical eye. “Not bad, slave,” she said, patting his head.

Next, Sarah decided it was time for James to experience a new level of degradation. “I think our slave needs a new accessory,” she said, pulling out a dog collar and leash. She attached the leash to James’s collar, dragging him around the room. “You’ll be our little pet for the rest of the night,” she announced.

The women took turns leading James around on the leash, making him perform tricks and tasks for their amusement. “Beg,” Victoria commanded, holding a piece of food just out of his reach. James got on his knees and begged, his eyes filled with desperation. The women laughed and rewarded him by dropping the food onto the floor and crushing it under their shoes before making him lick it up.

Caitlyn, her white tall block heels still smeared with remnants of mac and cheese, stepped forward. “Roll over,” she ordered, giving the leash a sharp tug. James obediently rolled over, his body aching from the rough treatment. The women cheered and applauded, thoroughly enjoying their control over him.

Vanessa, with her blue-painted toenails, decided to take it a step further. “Let’s see how well our pet can worship,” she said, pushing her black block heels into James’s face. “Lick them clean, and don’t stop until I say so.” James’s tongue traced every inch of her shoes, savoring the taste of dirt and grime. Vanessa moaned softly, enjoying the sensation.

Olivia, not wanting to be outdone, kicked off her Uggs and presented her sweaty feet to James. “Worship my feet, slave,” she commanded. James eagerly licked her feet, tasting the sweat and filth that had accumulated throughout the day. The women watched in fascination, their eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

As the night drew to a close, Lisa decided to give James one final task. “It’s time to clean up,” she announced. “And our pet is going to do it.” She handed James a bucket of soapy water and a scrub brush. “Use your tongue,” she added with a smirk.

James got to work, scrubbing the floor with his tongue while the women continued to taunt and laugh at him. The taste of soap and dirt filled his mouth, but he didn’t dare stop until the floor was spotless. When he finally finished, he collapsed in exhaustion, his body trembling with fatigue.

Satisfied with the night’s debauchery, Lisa allowed James a moment of rest. “You’ve done well, slave,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “You’ll sleep here tonight, and if you’re good, we’ll let you worship us again tomorrow.”

James curled up on the floor, his body aching but his mind buzzing with twisted pleasure. The women draped their feet over him, using him as a footrest as they continued to chat and drink, planning their next night of sadistic entertainment. Each of them still had their perfectly polished toenails glistening, a constant reminder of James’s total degradation.

As the night grew quiet, James drifted into an uneasy sleep, the lingering taste of dirt, sweat, and grime still on his tongue. He knew that tomorrow would bring more of the same, but deep down, he welcomed it. This was his place, at the feet of his cruel mistresses, forever their devoted and degraded slave.