Breathless Under My Feet

Lick My Dirty Cheesy Adilettes Clean for a Reward Well, foot licker. Look at you. Already on the floor. Dirty knees, mouth open, eyes on my feet. Are you submissive enough to lick everything I put in front of you… just for one reward? One pass of your tongue across each of my naked, cheesy, wet soles. I’m coming out of the kitchen. Eight hours on my feet. Cooking, cleaning, taking care of my family. No break. The whole time in my old pink plastic Adilettes. Cheap. Worn. Warm from my feet. My soles are disgusting. Hot. Damp. Soft. They’ve been sweating in these sliders all day until the sweat sat in the insole. You want that sweat? You want my bare soles? Then you earn them first. First you lick my old, filthy Adilettes clean. Turn them over. The bottom. The dirty outsole. Street dust, kitchen floor, the dirt of the whole house stuck there. Lick it off. Every groove. Every edge. Then the inside. That nasty insole, sticky with sweat and grime. Months of foot sweat baked into the plastic. Maybe years. The smell sits deep. Smell it. Hold it to your face. Inhale. Slow. Then your tongue. From heel to toe. Into every wet, slimy groove. Left. Right. Both sliders. I want you to fall in love with these cheap pink plastic sliders. Not with my pretty feet first. With these. The worn plastic. The sour, cheesy scent. The dirt. Lick them clean. Outside and in. No talking back. Only when I’m satisfied do you get your reward: one lick across each of my naked, damp soles. That’s all. One stroke per sole. Then take your tongue away and thank me. Start. The Adilette. Now. In your mouth.

Sniff and Lick a Housewife's Cheesy Feet - Mistress Lola “Hi… I’m Lola. Housewife. On my feet all day… literally. I take care of my loved ones, organize the day, clean, cook, do the laundry… and my feet feel every bit of it. What’s special about me is… that I have especially cheesy feet. That intense smell… and that intense taste. My foot-licker… my human foot-rag… today I’m challenging you: First, smell my sheer, sweet little socks. I pulled them out of the laundry basket earlier and then wore them all day again. Breathe deep… and taste the intense scent and flavor of my socks. After that… you pull the socks off with your mouth. Then you get to smell the cheesy scent of my bare feet… and lick away that cheesy, intense taste. Especially between the toes… that’s where it’s particularly cheesy. Hehe…”

After 6 Hours of Lectures: Slave Under My Socks - Nerdy Lady Lina Nerdy Lady Lina: Right after six hours of lectures I desperately need my slave. I already texted him that he should be lying ready when I get home. The second I’m through the door I throw my uni backpack into the corner. The slave is already on the floor. I sit down directly on the stairs, right above him. I pull off my sneakers. The socks are warm, damp and sweet from the whole day. Without warning I press my foot hard into his slave face. The dog groans under the pressure, breathing in the scent that has been collecting in my socks all afternoon. I want to watch him suffer under the weight of my foot and the smell of my socks. That’s not enough. “Lick,” I order. He has to taste every fiber of my sweet, damp, warm little socks. Tongue out, slow, thorough, until the fabric is wet with his spit and the smell gets even stronger. I press harder, rub the sole across his lips and nose, hold him there until all he can breathe is me. I use him. I humiliate him. After this hard day at uni I have earned my fun with the foot-dog: sitting up on the stairs with him beneath me on the floor, licking the sweat of my lecture day out of my socks and grateful that I even bother to use him.

Cheesy Feet for my Slave After 6 Hours Kitchen Work - MILF Mistress Lola After a long day in the kitchen, the slave finally gets what he’s there for. Six hours of housework behind me. Hot, exhausting, no break. My feet are tired, damp, and cheesy. All day the smell has been collecting inside my Birkenstock slippers. Now I want to rest — and you’re already lying ready. You’re not just my slave. You’re my living doormat. On the cold kitchen floor, face up, waiting for my soles. First the slippers. I sit down, lift one foot, and press the dirty, stinking sole straight onto your tongue. “Lick. From underneath. Thoroughly.” Your tongue works over the worn-out sole, pulling out every stain, every taste. Then the insole. Warm, damp, strong. You suck the foot smell out of the footbed like it’s a reward. Only after that do I take the slippers off. My bare kitchen feet come into view — warm, cheesy, a little sweaty between the toes. I rub them slowly through your slave face. Across your forehead, nose, mouth, cheeks. Your face should smell like my feet. Intense. Unmistakable. “Now the bare soles. Lick the foot sweat off. Especially between the toes.” Your tongue becomes the rag. You wipe my Birkenstock slippers and my cheesy feet clean. Not a drop left behind. That’s your housework. Go on, slave. Do it.

I Want a Foot Massage with Your Tongue - Princess Fiola Princess Fiola: You little foot dog… look at me when I’m talking to you. Today I want a proper foot massage from you. But not with your dirty hands – no. With your tongue. Tongue out. Now. Pull off my stinky socks. Slowly. Smell them before you take them all the way off. Enjoy the scent, you foot mutt. Good boy. Now get to my bare soles. Lick. Press your tongue hard against them and massage them properly. From the heel all the way to the toes. Slow and thorough. I want to relax after this long day. You’re my personal foot slave, so do your job. Lick all the foot sweat off. Every drop. Nothing left behind. I want my soles to feel clean and fresh. Lick them clean, slave. Deeper. With more pressure. Yes… just like that. You love it when I treat you like this, don’t you? Dirty little foot dog. Keep going. Don’t stop. My feet are yours to clean and massage today. And you’re going to make them shine until I’m satisfied. Understood, foot mutt?

Can You Smell MyPussy While You Are Suffering? - Princess Serena Princess Serena: There he is. My victim. On the prepared facesitting bench, built so his face can be locked in properly. No turning away. No escape. His head is fixed. Down where he belongs. Today I’m wearing these thin jeans-look leggings. Tight. Smooth. You can barely see through the fabric. You can still breathe through it. Just enough. That’s how I want it. I’m sitting on his face now. Pussy first. Slow at first, then with my full weight. I pin him under me, between my legs, tight, until the air runs out. His chest lifts. His hands twitch. Nothing comes free. This must feel heavenly to the slave. He suffers for me. And through the leggings he can still smell my pussy. Warm. Close. Impossible to ignore. Then my ass. Same pressure. Harder. Merciless. I press it onto his face and let him gasp, squirm, hunt for air. No slave gets out from under my ass unless I allow it. He can struggle. He can fight. It changes nothing. I even give him my sadistic countdown. Out loud. Slow. So he hears every second. Five. Four. Three and a half. Three and a quarter. Hahaha. Suffer, slave. Stay down. And sniff.