Ms. Krull towered over you, her cold flat completely in control over your movement, or lack thereof in this case. As she rocked you with her foot, she thought out loud to the snickering students behind her. "Now, girls, you're all too inexperienced to have him overnight," she waited for the disgruntled chatter to die down, "......and I'm just a tad too lenient to break him in...hmmmm. Now just who wants to take you in kid?" Kelly, Kenzie, and Katie all piped up again at the chance to get you stuck with an outright diabolical teacher, but none of the options made the science teacher jump in excitement.
Instead, smirking, she pointed out the obvious. "Girls, I think we're going to have to gift him to Ms. Shooban. It's the perfect choice, isn't it?" Ms. Shooban was a short, black haired, often mean spirited teacher who refused to wear her flats in class. You've never had her, but you've heard the horror stories, and you're not too eager to see if they're true. Ms Krull sees the growing discomfort in your face, laughs, and kicks off, now resting her foot just below your ear.
Katie piped up with a comment about her feet being almost as bad as Kellys, who in response cringed mockingly and said "Oh man, imagine what she's going to put him through. I almost feel sorry for him." They shared a laugh, imagining your night already, and their teacher took it as a sign to dismiss them so that you can get on with meeting your new master.
She waited for them to leave before having you sit up against a desk while she went to hers. As she turned on her computer and began sending an email, she asked for you to massage her feet. When you didn't move, she looked over her monitor and began to speak. "Listen, I know this wasn't what you were expecting when you came to me for credits, but we both know that for you to come crawling back here that you're pretty desperate, aren't you? Besides, how am I supposed to teach a human sexuality course when my specimen won't strip? This could've been a very orgasmic couple of months for you, but instead you've forced me to skip ahead a few chapters. Don't try to perk up and change course now, I've just sent the email to my lovely friend in the Spanish department, and I bet she's not going to be too happy about the part where I said you didn't attend to my feet after class."
You slumped down in a panic, then flew to Ms. Krull, trying to appease her, that all the credit needed can be made up here. She just smiled and kicked you away, sitting in a criss-cross position on her swivel office chair. "Oh, look at you learn. Did you know that with enough positive reinforcement, you could theoretically come to love feet? Just a small sniff could lead you down an enamoured state with enough training. Too bad you've shown you're not up to that, so that's why we need to break you in. Works just as well...speak of the devil, here she is!" Your biology teacher sprung up out of her seat, narrowly avoiding you with her soles, and bounced over to the door, opening it for Ms. Shooban. You sat there, defeatedly holding a shoe while the two of them excitedly chattered, occasionally pointing back to you.
A clatter of keys made you look over to the door, only to see Ms. Krull hand over what you presumed to be her room key before stepping out and disappearing down the hall. Now it was just you and the black haired teacher. Perhaps you've missed a golden opportunity of escape with your quiet and lenient biology teacher, but that thought dissipated as Ms. Shooban strolled over to you, demanding you to stand up while grabbing your shoulder. From there she half dragged you, half led you down a series of hallways to the neglected part of the school holding the languages department, and at the end, the Spanish department. As you two made your way down it, she leaned in close to your ear. "You poor poor bitch."
As she unceremoniously dumped you at the door, locking it behind you two, she began a doomsday speech of her own. "So, you need extra credits to hope to get into some college, and you've somehow ended up a foot bitch? My foot bitch?" She guffawed, crossing her legs and throwing them up on the edge of the desk she sat at, revealing a horribly callused pair of feet. "And you've ended up my foot bitch because you’re not willing to show a bit of skin? You just had to resist poor Ms. Krull and her students? Well I got news for you buddy, you're in for a long night of training. By the end of it, you're going to be begging for another set of filthy feet because mine are going to be beautified. Honestly, how dare you ask for extra credit and refuse to work for it?"
You snuck another glance at her feet and took a gulp. Just how were you going to make those beautiful? They were yellowed from ages of them being bare all the time, and through the calluses a layer of pink and red irritation lurked. You looked around the stuffy, windowless room for anything that could put distance, any distance at all between her and you, but the only help lied beyond a thick oak door and concrete walls. Again, she snickered at your situation before advancing on your cornered body. Stopping at about three feet away from you, she issued her first command, a test to see just how much work she needed to put in you. "Come here", with a stern finger pointed at her toes.
It ran chills up your spine, and froze you to the corner in insubordination. Her mouth twisted into some sort of sadistic snarl, joyed at being justified to beat you up, but annoyed at your refusal. She stomped over to your cowering form and brought a heavy heel down upon your bent up knee, forcing it to the floor in a shout of agony. From there, she used it as a platform to step up to bring her other foot into your chest. Both of these attacks wrenched you from your position to one of being down on the floor, right where she wanted you. She slid her dogs of war off your body, instead choosing to sit straddled across your chest. Letting out a humph and parting her hair, she smirked and asked again.
Raising a foot inches away from your face, she pointed to it and ordered "come here". Fighting yourself, you dragged your head up, meeting her wretched sole with your nose, her heel with your lips. With you right where she wanted you, she curled her foot around your face, gripping and then smashing your face back down upon the carpeted concrete floor. Your head exploded into pain, and you tried to shake yourself free, but she just grabbed your face with the other foot and continued her barrage of bashing your head against the ground until you were a groaning, pathetic mess beneath her.
"And that kid is what happens when you don't listen the first time. Now sniff." Ms. Shooban leaned back, grabbing a leg with each hand and kicked her soles onto your barely conscious face. With what little power you had in your foggy head, you gave a faint sniff before blowing cold air back onto her wrinkly weapons of mass destruction. The cool breeze tickled her soles, and she giggled, scrunching her toes firmly around your head. With you firmly encapsulated between her feet, she began to lean back, humming, as you had no choice but to accept her tainted, sweaty air through weak sniffs.
Still reeling from her attack, her putrid feet only firmly pinned you in a state of misery. They were damp after a days work, which only served to enhance the rotting stench of her soles, a stench that had no parallel in your life. They stunk to the high heavens, and she relished in knowing that fact, and the fact that this room of hers had no ventilation. Until she opened that door your head was stuck up against, the smell was only going to build up. Between gaps in where her feet met, you could see her watching the fight leave your eyes while she scooched and snuggled herself further into your already caving chest.
Suddenly, she grabbed a large tuft of your fair with her toes, lifting you up with the threat of starting your head smashing again while still resting her free foot on your cheek. She ordered you to ramp up your obedience, to lick away the beady drops of sweat and work that she had accumulated in her seven hours here today. You hesitated for only the briefest moment, until you could feel her toes start to crash you back into the ground, before surrendering. You sallied your tongue out, meeting her skin. Almost immediately, you went to retract it, realizing how mistaken you were in allowing that. It was disgusting, vile, and you instantly regretted it. She, however, had different plans and squished your tongue between her soles. With a villainous grin, she started to grind away at it, kneading her dirt and scent into your saliva infused tongue and lips. You closed your eyes, wincing, but she dug her nails into your thighs. With anguish you had to watch as she humiliated you in her display of pure control.
Just when you were at your wits ends and started to groan, she relented, releasing your horribly abused tongue back into your mouth, introducing terrible tastes. Sweat fought it out with the grime of whatever was in the hallway and her classroom for control of your taste buds as dirt battled bits of carpet for space between your teeth. But nothing could prepare you for her next command...to scrape away her calluses with your teeth. Her large, yellow, and thick calluses had to be the result of years and years of neglect to her constantly barefooted feet, but you had nothing left in you to resist. With as much reluctance you could muster, you opened your mouth and offered up your front teeth.
Drawing one back as far as she could, she launched one heel into your two front teeth before catching them on the way back for you to start peeling away the dead skin. Like a grater to cheese, layers started to come off in slices, with the back of your mouth as the catcher. You couldn't grimace or complain in the slightest in fear of retaliation, so you lied there in misery.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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