Phone Sex Stories & Free Phone Sex Blogs Details



  New Performers


  Popular Performers


  Recent Shouts


  Recent Blogs

Queen Morgan Performer Blog

       Real submissive slave story

You noticed me glancing at them in a restaurant and being the clever woman you are you gave me a sly smile and beckoned me to your table, although i was busy i felt compelled to please you and was drawn to your table.

After a bit of chit chat about politics, economy and philosophy, you dropped something on the floor and merely smiled and gestured towards the floor looking expectantly at me, again I felt drawn to obey and immediately got down under the table to pick up your item and that's when I froze for a second entranced by your boots being that I had a slight boot/foot fetish.

My reverie is broken by the toe of your boot smashing right into my face and then briefly stuffed into my open mouth.

My muffled cry of pain and your soft laugh are simultaneous, i scramble out from underneath the table and hand you your item and sit down like nothing happened. At this point you openly laugh at me and gently place your foot on my crotch and tell me not to pretend that didn't just happen. You proceed to tell me that you know full well about my foot fetish and how I crave to worship your feet.

I deny it, you press harder on my crotch and feel my now hard penis through my suit pants.

You smile wider, and press harder and insist that i admit to you out loud that i want to be on my knees worshiping your feet. I feel defeated and trapped and I repeat the dreadful words.

You are not satisfied yet and continue on about how you know that i really crave to be your slave, humiliated, beaten, and mercilessly bossed around, you describe things that i have indeed secretly fantasized about as well as things i have never heard of and are truly horrifying and humiliating, yet I am drawn to the sound of your voice and my intended rebuttal silenced by its sheer confident dominant power.

You insist loudly that i repeat and admit to things that you are saying. Not wanting to draw further attention, and being somehow entranced by you and feeling at tug in my heart (and in my testes) that is leaving me feeling compelled to please you, and my brain screams NO, but out of my mouth come the words that you desire. You laugh softly as my heart sinks and my balls ache. "Good boy" you say. An inexplicable rush of pleasure courses through me at the sound of your approval despite the fact that I am furious and just want to make you go away.

You smile and talk on in the calmest of tones about how you now own me and i am your pet and ill obey everything you say simply because of the power that you hold over me in your foot. To demonstrate your power, you lean over and slap me across the face and then lean back with a satisfied smirk.

I try to say something harsh to you but all that comes out is a hoarse whisper "why?". You chuckle and say "because I wanted to and because you foot boys are just so easy" As if to enunciate your point you take your foot from under the table and point it towards me and point to it there is an unrecognizable piece of food stuck to the sole of your boot, "clean it" you command.

I gingerly begin picking at the grime after removing the piece of food. "that will do for now" you say laughingly.

I am someone who is usually full of things to say, comments, questions, answers, long winded speeches but you seem to have rendered me incapable of coherent speech.

I sit there dumbly with the dirty smashed piece of food. You are grinning from ear to ear and say sensuously "go ahead foot boy, eat it.

You know you want to being that it was so close to my sexy feet. You know you are a lowly piece of filth that's only deserves such food."

I silently, and shamefully put it in my mouth. You then tell me to thank you. I do. You laugh and call for the check. I pay. We leave. I follow you out into the parking lot with my head hung in submission.

My whole body language has changed from when I walked in, I stood proud, looked busy, important, mildly irritated and self satisfied. Now, I look meek, submissive, a bit miserable but oddly content. You tell me that I will drive you in my car and so that is exactly what we do.

Once on the road we engage in somewhat normal discussion again, most you asking me personal questions and me trying to answer them as casually as possible while trying to shift conversation elsewhere. All else aside I genuinely do enjoy conversation with you you are intelligent and witty and seem to find me the same.

You take off your boots and place your pantyhose covered legs and feet up on the dashboard, filling the car with the warm, sour, but sensuous stench of your feet. You put your boots on my lap as i drive intensifying the smell for me.

I wrinkle my nose slightly involuntarily. You laugh and say "You know you love it, be a good doggy now smell deeply! breathe in the scent of my dominance!"

I breathe in deeply through my nose feeling agitated and irritated again but absolutely intoxicated and humiliated by the smell.

You decide to push further "say you love it doggy". i muttered "i love it".

"what do you love?" you tease. I manage a moment of anger and defiance and say "nothing!"

you swiftly swing your foot around kick me in the cheek and then place your big toe on my upper lip directly under my nose with your sole resting on one side of my mouth, cheek and chin. "Now, slave, tell me exactly what it is that you love, how much you love it, and why you love it so much" you order sternly.

After a moments hesitation, I said in a quiet bashful voice "I love the smell of your feet, I love it more than i love my mother, I love it because it reminds me of my place in life and of your complete ownership of me, I love it because every breath further ensnares me in your web. You laugh at me and tell me i was born to do this. "Now kiss my foot in apology for disrespecting them" I kiss your foot that is already partially on my mouth and you continue to laugh at me.

After we arrived at your house, you had me kneel in the street to put your boots back on. When we walked in you sat down and had me give you the first foot massage which lasted for well over an hour, It included kissing and sucking on your individual toes, licking out the lint from between your toes, sucking on your heels and kissing all over. My fingers ached, and my tongue ached and my knees ached but any hesitation was met with swift punishments and admonishments, slaps in the face, kicks in the face or balls were frequent.

After all this, you made me take off my clothes and put them in the backyard, your only explanation was "dogs don't wear clothes in the house"

Then you commanded me to crawl around on the floor in front of her naked with my face pressed to ground and tongue out. you said it was in order to instill in me my place in life and to truly recognize just how much control you have over me and that just the wiggle of your toe and a sly order, i transformed from dominant alpha male into your sniveling submissive wimp. As i whimpered in pain from the terrible carpet burn and wounded ego, you smiled and said "that's right doggy, suffer for me!"

"Now bark doggy!" I barked. You laughed. I almost cried.
The rest of the evening consisted of me doing various housework under your orders while alternating between casual conversation between us, merciless beating of me, brutal verbal humiliation with you drilling into me what a worthless wimpy loser i was and forcing me to say equally humiliating things for your amusement and my psychological torture.

All this time, throughout this ordeal, despite the pain, humiliation and hard work, i still was getting more and more aroused and slowly every little tiny bit of your approval seemed to give me a twisted rush of pleasure and bizarre sense of accomplishment, this admission to myself seemed to be more frightening than anything else as i was beginning to realize that perhaps you were right and all i am really is just a lowly foot slave whose purpose is only to serve and amuse you and that despite my many talents and abilities my true proper place in life is under your feet
 
 
{literal}