Kayla's Foot Diary #9 - Entries 72 to 84

*Updated April 2023 - editing the Kayla Uni arc. BIG rewrite for this diary so it's more foot-centric! Entry 10 - the last part - will be re-uploaded after it has been updated!*

Previously: Foot Diary #8 - Pet Anthony. Taming Tom. Kickboxing with Ryan. Jess Confesses. Virgin No More!  


Entry 72: 8th December 2003

Dear Diary,

OK. I've had time to process what happened with Paul. Looking back at it now, it was inevitable, almost obvious that it was going to happen. When we met for the drink, I couldn't deny the spark that I felt, that intangible quality of just being with someone I wanted to impress, and just clicked with. Not since Theo - and definitely more so.

The drinks kept coming (I didn't mind, as Paul insisted on paying) and we ended back at his place. His wife wasn't around (thank fuck!) and at first, we were both giddy with excitement, mixing cocktails and putting on the Buffy episode - Once More with Feeling. Paul is so in touch with his feminine side but is really masculine at the same time. We ended up cuddling on the sofa, celebrating the end of a successful term where he told me, off the record of course, that I had the highest assignment average of anyone on English Lit in at least three years. I joked if he did this for ALL of his students.

At that he scoffed. "Kayla, it's you that I'm impressed with.Yeah, you're a fucking fantastic writer - but it's all you. Your voice. Your mouth. Your lips..."

The rest is kind of a blur. Kissing him felt SO fucking good. Before I knew it, his shirt was off, my jeans were pulled down and we were practically devouring one another. We didn't even make it to the bedroom so we made do with the rug on the floor, giggling and practically growling in lust at one another. Time was hard to define; it was simultaneously sudden and forever. Paul did manage to fumble for a condom at least (nothing to worry about there!) and to have him inside me felt right.

Afterwards, he lit a cigarette - that explains his smokey scent - while I playfully placed my bare feet in his lap and asked for a foot rub. He looked a little surprised, but soon obliged, taking a couple more tokes before caressing my feet with his fingers. Afterwards, the next day, I realised my feet actually smelt of smoke. So that's something that will have to change!

After making me a coffee (a proper cappuccino, not some shitty instant one, like in our dorm), he awkwardly explained that last night was a rollercoaster but it's not something he can do again - he loves his wife. Yeah, of course you do!. She's a writer and has been away on a conference for the past few days but is already back in Bournemouth. The 'Walk of Shame' to my room the next day wasn't so bad as Paul drove me home, keeping a low profile, of course.

Instead of feeling crushed, I felt fine. It all feels like decent, proper, ADULT drama for more to sink my teeth into. Rather than the bitchiness and tedium from freshers that I hear about and want none of. So I wasn't surprised that Paul told me that, especially after he gave me a passionate kiss and we ended up fucking again, this time in his bed. His wife's and his bed.

I was in a bit of trance but I decided to move on and not wait for Paul to next be able to see me. I even let Steve come over to lick my feet. Yeah, that's right! He messaged me on MSN, begging to come over and visit again - he hadn't since his younger sister had basically banned him from the dorm, too embarrassed to have him around her friends. I let him, again reading a book (East of Eden, by John Steinbeck), while he lay on his belly like a pathetic worm, licking my feet up and down, becoming increasingly enamoured. I let this go on for a good couple of hours, actually forgetting he was there at one point, so accustomed as I was to it. I was distracted by Paul and found myself messaging him, just a couple of witty things that I knew he'd appreciate. He always replies quickly too, which I appreciate.

When he asked me what I was up to, I casually replied the truth: Well, I'm reading East of Eden while some dork licks my feet... He gave the briefest of replies to that. Before a rambling one later on, about how he hoped it wasn't Anthony, after what I'd told him, that although he and I can't explicitly cheat on his wife, maybe we could still get together...

I'm not going to though. Not for a while, anyway. Losing my virginity is a fucking big deal. I'm glad that it was to him, a genuinely funny, sexy guy. Rather than some random one night stand. Or a pathetic loser, like Steve! Like that would ever happen... Anyway, I've decided things have to be on my terms. I'm not some swoony little student. I'm strong, I'm powerful. It's why Paul is drawn to me - because he needs what I am. If I were weak, clingy or like some typical naive first year, he wouldn't have been interested in the first place. His wife is back at their home anyway and I'm not bringing Paul here!

Plus, I've got other stuff. I've got one more kickboxing session before I head back to Mum's for the Christmas break. This is where April will choose who represents our group for the tournament! Steve is into some weird stuff by the way - I mentioned on MSN that my feet would be really sweaty after kickboxing... he's offered to lick them clean afterwards! I usually pride myself on having clean, attractive feet. Not post-exercise ones. Still, it will be kinda funny to see how far I can bend that loser until he breaks!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 73: 11th December 2003

Dear Diary,

I've done it! I've made the kickboxing tournament, whoop!


As predicted, it went down to me and Harriet in the finals, after April had selected a final four. The semi-final was easy; it was the same blonde girl who I had beaten down before. A couple of body punches and one back hook kick was enough to finish her off.

Harriet was another story. She had clearly been kickboxing for years and had even smugly mentioned a few tournaments she had competed in; in a way, she was the favourite. I had a secret weapon though - Ryan. Over the past week, we've met up - in each other's rooms to 'practise' my kicks. This basically involves him meekly standing there, holding a cushion or pillow while I pummel him. I've mastered the following kicks, thanks to him as a human dummy: roundhouse, front, spinning back, hook, spinning hook...even the question mark kick! I've done this relentlessly - over and over. Poor Ryan has to take breaks after every few kicks now, such is my power and force. After the session's done, I make him rub my feet down with this cool, minty foot lotion. I'm not sure which part I enjoy most - when he's crying out in pain and falling on his arse after I've slammed my foot against him, or when he's kneeling in front of me, applying the foot cream.

What's funny is that this was the same jock bastard who thought I was going to be his 'Uni Slut'. Honestly! If Charlotte and Ross could see a picture of what he's doing for me now, knowing that I've got those pictures on him as leverage!

I was so confident that I was genuinely better than him that I even let Ryan go all out attack - having a few one-one-on fights, where he was allowed to try and hurt me. It annoys me a bit that he relishes it each time, like he's still deep-down happy to hurt me. Still, it's no issue as his punches are so easy to block; his kicks are useless and his defence is appalling. I even let him have a 'free hit' on me, which I absorbed, before swatting him away with a hook kick, or another powerful blow.

I was very well-prepared for Harriet, basically.

At first, she had the upper hand, landing several punches, which I struggled to block. One hurt my rib, which I felt my hand resting against, rather than block her front kick. Dodging away after another swipe from her foot, I pulled off a hook kick, which she casually parried. At a bit of a stalemate, we circled each other. Catching Ryan's eye, he seemed to be hopeful, his lip curling a little, as if to wish bad omens on me. It didn't work. Ha!

I pivoted and in one fluid motion unleashed a back hook kick that caught Harriet on the side of the head. She wobbled and flailed for a moment, leaving me an opening to strike her twice in the gut with my gloved fists, then perform the question mark kick. It struck to perfection, knocking Harriet to the floor, and giving me the first point. Harriet was disorientated and ungainly as she started the next round, wildly swinging and failing to reach high enough with her kicks. I savoured every moment, easily blocking and side-stepping her, noticing April nodding with approval at me.

It was just a matter of time. Harriet had exhausted herself and took a moment to breathe, clutching her side while I pulled off a low kick, followed by a gentle roundhouse, just to unsteady her. A second, forceful roundhouse caused her to crumple to the ground.

There I was. The winner! April high-fived me, before helping Harriet up, instructing Ryan to get her some water. He's totally become her gopher boy, as well as mine, by the way - from the moment that she realised he was a pushover, she's taken full advantage. I admire that in her - we'd make quite the team, the two of us!

That wasn't the only fun. As promised, Steve was there (he actually collected me from the gym in his car), eager to be up close with my feet post-kickboxing. Ryan was delighted not to have as a reprieve, as he departed very rapidly after Steve arrived. I, of course, prolonged Steve's torture, not letting him at my feet until we got back to his place. In his bedroom, in his student house (same road as Jess, by chance), I got comfy on his bed, my back against his two duck-feather pillows as he locked the door. Crossing my feet at the ankles, I instructed him to take off each of my trainers as dropped to his knees at the end of the bed.

"Sniff my kickboxing shoes, loser," I told him dismissively. "Inhale them deep - I want you to get familiar with my foot stench!"

Steve quivered a little, probably excitement more than fear as he brought the insole of one white trainer to his nose and took a deep whiff. I've owned this pair for a while now so they must've really reeked. Even Steve winced, his eyes watering slightly, which I giggled at. I made him to do this for a good couple of minutes, smirking at him as he kneeled at the end of his own bed.

"Can I... er, your feet now, please Goddess Kayla?" He practically whimpered, after I told him to switch to the other shoe. "OW!"

Casually swiping my socked foot against his cheek, I tsk'd at him. "He'd been calling me 'Goddess Kayla' for a while - that wasn't the issue. "Slaves don't make requests - they do what they're told! Now be a good slave and sniff my fucking shoe. Sniff the sweaty shoe of the kickboxing champ!" I turned my nose up, feeling so superior to this third year, who quickly apologised and reached for my next trainer.

This time, I made him inhale for longer. Five full minutes, which he was clearly struggling with. It was then I first suspected that perhaps he enjoyed the idea of sweaty feet more than the actual thing...

"Before you take my socks off, I want you to press your nose against them and get a really good whiff. I know they're damp with sweat, they've been destroying people at kickboxing after all. Sniff them, loser!"

"Yes...Goddess Kayla..." Steve murmured, leaning forward, putting his hands on the bed and nuzzling his nose up against my sweat-soaked sock. He, again, winced at the scent, which even I could pick up on from the other side of the bed. It was pretty sharp and vinegary.

"How does it smell, slave?" I called across, grinning at how much fun this was. Winning at kickboxing and torturing a foot loser, all in one day!

"It's....er....pretty....sour...." He replied between breaths, a grimace on his face.

I shrugged. "Not my problem slave. And for that, you can sniff for ten more minutes. On each sock..."

He whimpered but didn't argue. Burying his nose in deeper, as if to commit to the experience, Steve meekly inhaled my foot stench, my damp socks sticking slightly to his face, such was their sweatiness, which made me let out a giggle. After I recrossed my feet - his cue to switch - he suddenly broke down.

"Please, Goddess... please - I... I'm finding it too much... I....they're just too sweaty...The smell, I... I don't think I can..." He said desperately, holding his hands up in surrender.

Completely unimpressed with the dork, I frowned at him and folded my arms. "How fucking rude. And ungrateful. You should be honoured to be sniffing my sweaty feet. Do you know how much other guys would pay to be in this position? You need to learn to love sweaty feet, slave. I want you to know my salty foot scent better than any other smell. I want it to be with you all the time. I want you to crave it. To beg for it..." I gave him a smug look, while he hung his head in shame. "In fact, Steve-the-slave, beg to sniff my socks some more... BEG me!"

Letting out another whimper, Steve began to beg, which I soaked up every word and syllable of. I can't remember exactly what he said as it was so rambling but he kept going for a good minute until I shut him up by using one socked foot at the back of his neck and the other to force fully against his face. He went silent, other than his deep breathing against my socked foot, with the occasional whine.

I kept this going for at least fifteen minutes until I released him, letting him drop to the ground in a heap.

"Such a weak, pathetic slave," I told him with disdain. "By the way, you don't get to make any choices, call any shots. I only agreed to coming over here because I was interested to see how much you were really into sweaty feet. Looks like you bit off more than you can chew! Anyway, it's your problem now because I'll decide how sweaty my feet will be each time I see you, not you." Standing up, I picked up my shoe, not before stepping on the side of his head, which he yelped in pain. "See you, loser!"

So Steve never got to taste my sweaty feet after all! He did get to sniff my trainers and socks though, lucky slave! He better beg very well to get the privilege of my feet ever again and they will be EXTRA sweaty if so! It just seems to make sense, to make losers like Steve always in a position of frustration and submission. If he feels like he's actually getting what he wants, then that would be far too easy for him!

One more thing happened that I need to write about. After I left Steve's, I bumped into Jess. We exchanged an awkward hug before a little bit of smalltalk. She really wants to see me, to explain things properly - she can't stop thinking about how badly it went before. I didn't say much as it was obviously difficult for her, but I did agree to visit her back in London over Christmas at some point. Hopefully not with Ben there too - I'm not sure if I can stand that much weirdness....

Love,
Kayla

Entry 74: 16th December 2003

Dear Diary,

That's it! I've finished for the term and am back at Mum's, in the shitty hell-hole. I was tempted by Paul's sudden offer - to join him in Paris for the weekend, where he'll be...alone... Maybe I still will. It's not like I've got much here.

Mum has a new boyfriend though, which I'm not 100% sure about. I met him last night. Not bad looking (better than poor old Ian, at least), thick grey, almost 'presidential' hair but also a bit smug and annoying. He's called Graham and Mum was all over him. Of course he didn't come to Mum's place - no, we went out for dinner together. Which of course he paid for. Mum had been gushing about him, that he's so generous and impressive (codewords for: he's rich!). I'm glad for her, but I DON'T trust this guy. He seems slimy. Like a snake oil salesman. The way he looks me up and down with his eyes when he talks to me; his patronising smile when I was telling him about how well my English course was going... he's a bit of a creep. Anyway, as long as he pays for her and helps us get out of this crappy flat we're having to live in at some point, then that has to be a good thing.

She's also started mentioning 'Family Time' - the dreaded two words. I asked her casually about Ross, who she's also heard nothing from. It made me think about Gabrielle's phone call... maybe something is going on with him, something serious. Or he could have just severed ties with people back home for his new, shiny life in Loughborough - I haven't kept in touch with anyone other than Mum occasionally. I exchanged a very brief couple of messages with Jen, remember her? Ben - nothing at all since I sent him that picture of my foot on Ryan months ago.

I'm going over to see Jess soon and still don't know if Ben will be there or not. I wonder if he's still going out with Sarah?

Paul and I keep messaging; he's just so fucking funny. He's referenced our night together a few times - that the magnetism was Buffy-Angel-esque. He's not wrong. It was almost primal, like a physical connection that could not be denied. I'm not an idiot, I know that he's married and that it probably can't really go anywhere but I do like the attention, from an older sexy guy. Guys my age are just so beneath me. Even a slightly older guy, like Steve, is nothing more than a foot rug to me - a convenient tool, rather than an actual person. Boys are stupid and should be put in their place. Paul is the only one I'm genuinely interested in.

Speaking of stupid boys, I saw Ryan this morning - I'd genuinely forgotten that he only lived around 10 minutes from us, back in London. It was randomly in the supermarket and he was with some random girl, clearly flirting with her, swaggering around in his inane way. Walking confidently up to him, I ignored the girl and gave him a hard look as he visibly took a wary step back.

"Hey. I need some kickboxing practice. I could use a human dummy to practice on. Be at your place at midday tomorrow. Don't worry, I remember where that is from last time..." I added a smirk, to which he quickly nodded a meek, 'OK' at.

I continued smirking as I sauntered away, giggling at the sound of whichever girl he was with, and trying to impress, give him a hard time. He knows he's my bitch - I love the fact that I can verbally and physically beat him down in Bournemouth AND back home!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 75: 23rd December 2003

Dear Diary,

I did it. I went to Paris with Paul! Money was no issue as he paid for my flight - an early Christmas present. After a couple of days of staying at Mum's, I just had to get out and it's worked out perfectly. She was actually going away on a mini-break with Graham anyway, so it just made sense. Three nights away with Paul was fucking awesome. Of course we did some of the touristy things together, but it was the time in our hotel room that I'll remember most fondly...

When he collected me at the airport, we went straight to the hotel. No messing around - full-on, animalistic love-making! Paul is good. He's so good. He just seems to instinctively know where to touch me, how much pressure to apply, how deep to go in... I won't go into massive details as I want to get to the foot stuff...

Paul is so much cooler than Theo ever was. I wanted to wake him up in a nice, kinky way for our first morning together in the hotel. So I put my feet in his face and jerked him off. He went from lightly snoring to murmuring a few nonsensical things, to letting out heavy breaths, muffled by my bare soles of course! It didn't take him too long to climax; not that he had much choice with how much I was pumping away.

Yeah, it was a risk - after what happened with Theo. But it paid off - Paul loved me taking charge and seemed to enjoy my feet. After he came, he kissed each of them and chuckled.

"You really have a thing about feet, don't you, honey?" He slowly moved them to one side so that he could give me a proper kiss. "That guy licking your feet the other day, waking me up with your feet in that way..."

I giggled. "I love my feet being kissed. Being pampered. That's not a problem, is it?" He shrugged as I repositioned to place them on his chest, crossed at the ankles. "A foot massage would be perfect right now...."

We spent far more time in the hotel room than we did out of it. Ordering room service was fun; including having Paul lick chocolate sauce off my bare soles, which we'd ordered with crepes. I giggled with how much his tongue was tickling my feet, feeling like a French petit princess. For a moment, I'd considered something.

"You like this, don't you?" I stared at him, dipping my finger into some cream and licking it off seductively. "You like my feet... Is there something you want to tell me?"

Paul frowned. "Yeah, I fucking adore you Kayla. Every little inch of you is just...delicious," He swallowed thickly before continuing his lavish licking. "Oh, hang on..." He paused and gave me a look. "You're wondering if I'm one of those guys that's into feet, aren't you?"

I felt myself reddening slightly but shrugged. He chuckled. "Kayla, I love all of you. Every part - it's you who's insisted I lick your feet. Put some chocolate sauce on your breasts, on your bum, or somewhere between your legs and I'll happily oblige..."

Giggling, I took the chocolate sauce and dribbled a little on my breasts, adding a dollop of cream for good measure. I was so in the moment it wasn't until an hour or so later he'd said the "L" word. But I haven't reciprocated - partly because in the context he said it, I don't think it was: Kayla, I love you. Or I'm in love with you. Also, more importantly, I don't know if I love him. I really like him and it's exciting being around him. But I think I would know definitively if I were in love or not - that's my take on it.

Saying goodbye was hard. Also, we had to come off the flight separately as his wife was meeting him. I watched from a distance, having to admit to myself that his Wife, Mrs Veronica Redman, is stylish, elegant... Watching them embrace wasn't easy but I just pictured him licking chocolate sauce off my bare feet and I couldn't help but smile.

I've delayed meeting up with Jess and am back at home with Mum now. I'll see her soon - not like I've got many plans over Christmas now that Paul's wife is back. Bitch!

Bitch.... Ha, I had nearly forgotten about the kickboxing practice with Ryan! I don't feel bad for doing this, after spending time with Paul. He's got his wife, so I should have any pets or bitches I choose to use! My kickboxing bitch and I have had a couple of 'sessions' at his house so far this holiday. The first time, he was sure to open the door and usher me upstairs, so no-one else could see me. I didn't like that, so for the second time, I forced him to introduce me to his Mum and sisters. He awkwardly told them I was his "kickboxing friend", to which I giggled and confidently told them that it was me doing all of the kicking, as I slipped off my trainers.... They all laughed at this, while he shrank away and muttered something at the ground, probably wishing that it would swallow him up!

I just love kicking the crap out of him. Am I worried that I'm doing him any brain damage? NOPE! First of all, he always has a pillow to protect himself with. Secondly, he hasn't exactly got many brains to begin with. Thirdly, I don't care.

After executing each kick (nine different ones in total) and punch (five), plus repeating these, Ryan was well and truly done in. He was lying, face down on his bedroom floor, while I yawned and stretched my arm behind my back.

"You can lick my feet now," I told him. "After making them sweat, that's the least you can do."

Ryan let out a weak moan, literally slithering on his belly so he could reach my waiting bare feet. "Kayla... I'm not sure... how much longer, like.... Please can you. Just.... y'know.... let it go. I'm... s-sorry.... Why are you...." He took a breath as I slowly lifted a bare sole in front of his slightly bruised face. "Still....doing this?"

I stared down at him, feeling my temper rise. "You think this is about revenge? Ha! First of all, you tried to molest me. On MORE than one occasion, you misogynistic prick! The fact that you're still questioning me and not just doing what I tell you just shows me I have to break you more!" I laughed at him while he closed his eyes in despair, lightly cursing himself for speaking up to me.

His foot-licking was pretty weak. Not at all eager like Steve's or Ross's in the past. Not like Paul, who has a skilful tongue. The one thing that made it more satisfying though, was knowing he was NOT enjoying it. Either that, or Ryan is an excellent actor. Which I highly doubt! His expression was both grim and resigned. Like someone who has to clean out toilets, or complete a load of shitty coursework they know simply has to be done.

He spluttered at a few times, from my heady stench, which made me chastise him and encourage to clean my soles more thoroughly, so that they would smell better! He licked between each toe, along my arches; every square inch. Of course, they were feeling so refreshed. I think every girl should have a loser boy to lick their feet after kickboxing! Part of me wants to break him completely, until he enjoys licking my dirty feet. If that ever happens, then it would mean a certain level of achievement but less fun, knowing that he isn't HATING it!

When I was satisfied they were clean, Ryan's face looking even more red and blotchy than before, I stood over him, standing on the side of his face, his belly to the ground and wincing.

"I wish Ross were here to see this. And Charlotte too. What would they think of you?" I said down to him with disdain. "Ross's former best friend and Charlotte's ex..."

"I...dunno...." He muttered, his teeth clenched from his uncomfortable position.

"Wrong answer...." I lifted up my foot and slapped it down hard on his cheek, a smacking sound filling the room briefly, so he cried out in pain. "They'd say that you are Kayla's bitch. Wouldn't they?"

He blurted out that he agreed, stating firmly that he'd tell them both I was his bitch. I asked him if what I was doing was fair, to which he also readily agreed. I enjoyed this, watching him squirm under me, having this idiot at my mercy.

"Last of all, should I stop doing this... Do you think this enough, bitch?" I enquired softly, practically whispering as he went rigid.

Finally he answered. "No... It's not up to me... It's up to.... you...."

"Good answer," I smirked down at him before finally stepping off him, letting him clasp his hand to his cheek, which had gone a beetroot red. "See you soon, bitch!"

Skipping downstairs, I picked up my shoes, telling Ryan's two sisters that I hopefully didn't beat him up too much, to which they laughed at. Ha, if only they knew! Maybe they should!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 76: 4th January 2004

Dear Diary,

Writing the date, I've realised that it's the first entry of the year, hello 2004! Christmas Day itself was a bit weird. At least we didn't have to suffer in the shitty flat for too long as Graham had us over at his place for lunch. I did meet his daughters though, who were little bitches. I don't even remember their names - they barely looked at me, were fake-sweet in front of Mum but when just the three of us were alone in the room, they smirked at one another and murmured something in private. Reminded me of The Cousins. Similar ages too - I think 17 and 20, or something like that.

I wasn't having that. I had suffered too much shit in the past with Gab and Soph, with Ross too, so I quickly established my authority. "What was that? Have you got something to say to my face?"

The older of the two nearly spluttered on her wine in shock after I spoke so directly. "Er, I think you're being a bit paranoid there. I was just saying to my sister..."

"Well, speak up then," I replied rolling my eyes. "Or if you've got nothing to say to me, at least do something useful and get me a refill of wine." I gave the younger girl - a pale girl with blonde, curly hair, a firm look. She crumbled quickly, despite an imploring look from her sibling.

"Good girl," I grinned at her while I fixed the elder one with a hard stare. "I'm a guest in your home. Show some fucking manners."

The girl reddened and averted her gaze away from me, clearing her throat but having nothing to say in retort. Good. I nodded at her before letting out a sigh. "My Mum has been through a lot of crap. You need to be nice. To her and to me - and not just for your Daddy's sake. Got it?"

She didn't have the chance to reply as Mum, Graham and the younger sister returned with wine, plus crackers for us to pull. The rest of the day went pretty well after that - I ended up fiercely debating politics with Graham, who seemed a bit taken aback that I was so outspoken. It was when he started downplaying fox hunting where I stepped in, putting him in his place. Mum didn't take sides, though I sensed that she was both proud and surprised with how confident I was.

That was the last time I saw his daughters. They were at their Mum's (Graham and her have been divorced for years) for New Years. Mum, Graham and I were out for dinner that evening, which was OK, but again I found Mum's new boyfriend to be obnoxious and condescending. Still, he is doting around Mum and seems affectionate to her. She deserves to be spoilt and looked after, after everything that happened after Ian died. Anyway, this Graham is lucky to have her - my Mum's a MILF!

OK. Onto the major event...

The main thing that happened over the holiday was my evening with Jess, between Christmas and New Years... I'm still fuming about it! When I arrived at hers (after having to get the bus - so annoying), she had clearly made an effort - cooking us dinner, a bottle of red wine already out and she had dressed up, in a silky rose-pink dress.

"Kayla, I really need to apologise to you. How it went - when I, you know, told you my secret... It wasn't how I wanted it to go. I've been thinking about it ever since. I... I can't actually stop thinking about it. About you...." She coughed nervously as we sat together on the sofa, after eating the chicken alfredo pasta she'd prepared. I put my glass of wine down and gave her a look.

"I never thought I'd say this Jess, but you're sounding eerily like your brother...." She recoiled at this but I continued. "Ben was obsessed with me. He probably still is..." I couldn't help let a chuckle out, which Jess frowned at. "Er, anyway. I get it - you're into me. You're gay - and to be honest, I always knew that deep down. On both counts. I'm not being cocky; I'm just used to people getting infatuated with me. The only difference this time is that it's a girl."

Jess took a gulp of wine and a heavy breath. "The way you talk.... I don't know if it's that you've changed or... Maybe I just didn't see it before. But someone has to tell you this... and I feel I can, as a friend..."

I was confused and couldn't hide it. "Wait, I thought you fancied me. So are you my friend or just another loser, like your brother?"

"Just another...?" Jess shook her head and sighed. "No, that's not it. Look, someone has to tell you this. Yes, I do find you attractive; I like being around you. I don't know what exactly it is I want..."

I scoffed. "Yeah, that's pretty fucking clear."

"...But I do know that you need to hear it. That... you're becoming kind of.... Well, not a nice person, a good person, to be honest....I mean, I never thought I'd say but you're kind of a...bitch..."

"HA!" I couldn't control this, as I grabbed my wine for another gulp and fixed with with a steely look. "Who the hell are you, to call me a fucking bitch?! I don't give a shit what you - someone who isn't comfortable with their own sexuality - think about me. Who the HELL are you to judge me? You befriended me, in a misleading way, not ever being clear or open with me. Jess, you're exactly like your brother. Get on your knees."

Jess looked hurt and confused. "What...?! You want me... on my knees?"

"Yes, you heard me, Jess. Get on your fucking knees. I want to show you something," I motioned for her to get off the sofa and do what I said.

"I... I don't get.... Look, Kayla, can't we just talk this through... I'm sorry what I said. I just felt I needed to say.... OK, you are... you've been through a hard time with everything, with what happened..." Her voice trailed off as I clicked my fingers sharply.

"You're not listening to me. You said I wasn't a good person. You called me a bitch - if you believe that, then let me show you up close and personal what that really means. On your knees. Now!" I said with such authority, that I was relieved her Mum was out. My tone was so commanding that Jess was at a loss for words and awkwardly slid off the couch to kneel before me.

"Kayla, I am sorry. But... what's this... going to prove...?" She gave me a pleading look, which I ignored.

Lifting my bare feet up, I placed one over her shoulder and then the other one in front of her face, so my soft sole hovered over her. "This has been a long time coming Jess. I want to show you what you are - a fucking loser. You're nothing to me - you don't help me; you're not even fun anymore. You're actually worse than Ben - at least he's tried going out with someone else, rather than just pine after me. It's pathetic!" I told her harshly, feeling my heart race with excitement.

Jess sniffed, letting out a small sob. "Why... Kayla, why are you... doing this? We're friends... We are, you know deep down..."

"Save it. You ruined our friendship the moment you betrayed me. Why can't I just have someone be a decent friend and not want to get something out of it. You don't deserve anything other than my bare foot in your face. This is the closest you'll ever come to having something intimate with me. You think that I'm not a good person, that I'm a bitch - so let's have it your way. Kiss my foot, loser!" I actually felt Jess's tear moisten my sole but also felt her lips purse against it; I'm not sure if it was out of fear or lust that she surrendered to me. But it felt good, making it clear to her that she couldn't just keep up this facade.

I'm sick of it. Sick of people not being open with me. At least Steve gave me full disclosure the first time he confessed at my feet what he wanted. Still, even HE felt like he was in control - asking for my feet to be sweaty, then complaining it was too much. Punishing Jess for having no transparency in our relationship was completely fair.

She kissed my foot, while I steadied her head with my other one. Her eyes were flooded with tears and her breath was ragged between her kissing and sobbing. I found myself smirking. This so-called 'friend' of mine didn't seem to mind when I was taking advantage of her brother, or of Ryan. No, each time she'd supported me - how convenient! I told her all of this, forcing her to apologise, in between her meek foot kisses. Soon, I got her to lick with her tongue, asking what tasted better out of my foot sweat and her own tears!

Of course, it was almost inevitable when Ben came in to see his sister slathering away, with Sarah on his arm.

"Oh, hi Ben!" I called out cheerily, winking at him and ignoring the girl. "Jess is getting a great taste of my feet! Do you want a go next?"

Sarah looked like she'd seen a ghost; her mouth hanging open while Ben stood there, similarly transfixed. Jess let out a groan as she clocked her brother and his girlfriend. With a final sob, she wrenched herself away and sprinted up the stairs, slamming her door behind her.

I passed in thought, trying not to smile at Ben's confused face. "You might want to get a towel - just to get rid of your sister's saliva first..."

Sarah turned away, a look of disgust on her face. "I'm going back to my parents. Ben, are you coming?"

He definitely hesitated. For more than a couple of seconds before hastily retreating with her. But that look in his eye, there was definite hunger in it. No doubt he was jealous, lustful, outraged - mixed up to say the least. After they departed, I considered checking on Jess but why should I? Mum actually text messaged me at that point to say her and Graham were en route home from dinner, and could pick me up on the way back. So that decided that one - a tortuous journey on the bus, expensive taxi or free lift. No brainer! Anyway, Jess brought this on herself. Had she not been so dishonest all this time, not to mention damn rude...

Unsurprisingly, we haven't been in contact since. And that was a good few days or so ago. I was surprised that Ben and Sarah were still dating - and it was entertaining to see his expression when he witnessed his own sister being my bitch. Did he actually know at all that his sister was gay? He had shown his jealousy before, when Jess and I were getting on so well in the summer.

There's no loss, not on my part. Just another faux friend - a pretender who never truly liked me had my back. No, I'm better off without Jess in my life. And Ben has been out of it for months anyway. Maybe he'll ask me for another picture of my feet on MSN. Maybe Jess will too!

I'm heading back to Bournemouth soon. I honestly can't wait to see Paul again; someone who actually appreciates and likes me for who I am.

Love,
Kayla

Entry 77: 15th January 2004

Dear Diary,

Well, I honestly thought I'd be happy to be back in Bournemouth. In a way, I am. My room is better than the shit one at Mum's; being around my foot pets is always an ego-boost but there have been a couple of things that have seriously pissed me off.

Paul is away. We had one quick afternoon together when he dropped the bombshell about this English professor's conference up north. For over two weeks! He's got several different events in Manchester, Sheffield, York... and is powerless to get out of it. Of course it's frustrating not to see him - during those couple of hours together, we fucked twice. And in between, he sucked on each of my toes, while using his fingers to stimulate me... Yeah it was fucking fantastic!

The other downside to him being away is what's happened in his absence. Janki and Amy are such meddling little bitches...

They have gone straight to the Head of English at Bournemouth Uni - Stewart Thompson - the only one with more authority than Paul! They've got signatures from over forty students to sit an exam so we can have an overall grade for the English Language elements of our course. How they managed to get that many dorks to do this... I'll never know. Anthony was one of them, for sure. Their reasoning - explained giddily by Amy afterwards - was that we needed one overall, definitive mark to help decide for those who were integrating English Language into their second and third year studies. Otherwise, these mini-assignments and tasks were meaningless. I wasn't, definitely not! But I had zero choice - the exam was confirmed!

Of course the two of them were shrewd as Stewart, being a huge fan of Latin apparently, readily agreed and was more than happy to organise it. As we would be missing several seminars and lectures with Paul's temporary absence, Amy and Janki had the idea for that to be scheduled revision time. So of course, without Paul around to consult, my mind went to... Anthony! As soon as I whispered in his ear at the end of a lecture, "Foot pet...?", he was game. This all happened a couple of days ago.

Being back in his room was familiar yet strange. But I soon got into the groove of dominating him again. It was so fucking easy. First off, I made him kneel at the end of his bed, with the first module's textbook in front of him, my socked feet dangling in front of him. The idea was that every time he explained something I understood, he would be allowed to take a whiff of my feet. For each module (seven in total) he could do this for, that would allow a deep sniff of a bare sole.

Generous, huh?! Of course the total loser agreed - what choice did he have! What I didn't expect was how fucking useless Anthony was at explaining stuff.

"So, the, er, afore-mentioned prefixes... the general etymological rule is interesting, see, as, um, it's not morphemic in nature..."

Bla bla bla. That may not be exactly what he said, but it was something like that...

"Speak English, seriously!" I would give him a light kick to the side of the head, which the dork probably enjoyed more than he should have. "Try that again. In simple terms!"

It went something like this for half an hour and I was getting frustrated. This guy is so knowledgable but hopeless at communicating information in easy-to-understand-terms. So different to Paul!

So, I had to change tact. Instead of me being there in person, I set him an assignment to do for the next couple of hours. I'd then return, ready to check over his work. A double-sided page summary, for each module with the key, relevant points that I actually needed to know. This would need to be handwritten and with specific examples. For every successful page I could actually make sense of, he could then have a sniff of each socked foot. If it was done within two hours, then he would be allowed five minutes of bare sole sniffing...

He was FAR too keen with this deal (that was kinda tragic) and got straight to work, while I used the time for some kickboxing practice. Ryan was used to dropping everything at a hat for me, so of course was ready for his latest pummelling in his bedroom: a full hour of high kicks, with spinning back kicks (still mastering those) thrown in. By the end, I didn't even have to instruct him - he lay, exhausted, on the floor while licking every part of my feet clean, me leaning back on his bed, getting comfy. To be fair, I was going to shower afterwards anyway, but the pre-shower, from his tongue is definitely necessary!

The session had raced by, including the foot-licking. After a cheery goodbye to the beaten Ryan, who merely raised up a weak hand from the floor, I raced back just in time for Anthony's written pages. Only he wasn't ready...

"Five more minutes? I made it clear what you had to do..." I looked at him coldly. It was only five minutes but I had to stand true to what I'd promised. "No bare feet for you!"

Anthony let out a whimper. "I'm nearly... Please that's not... not fair, for me to not get your bare feet.. I've been... I haven't stopped thinking about them, not for weeks, being without them..." He looked so pathetic that I found myself softening. "Please, Kayla, please find some lightness in your heart....!"

I folded my arms but thought of a compromise. "I guess you can have one minute of my bare feet. But that's only 'cos I'm feeling kind! AFTER I check your notes..."

He gratefully accepted this, thanking me, like the pathetic creature he was. I loved how easily he accepted increasingly bad deals - a hopeless negotiator! Hastily finishing off the page he was on, he took a deep breath before handing it over. I read through each page, frowning. It sort of made sense... but it was still unnecessarily complicated.

"What the hell does morphemic even mean?" I gave him a sharp look. Before he could reply, I held a hand in front of his face and shook my head to silence him, telling him I'd read on. The next couple of pages were even worse.

I closed my eyes in despair at the last page. It was clearly rushed and full of his useless ramblings. Dropping the papers to the ground, I made what I thought about them pretty clear by stamping my foot on them. Anthony hung his head in shame. For a moment I felt a little bad for him - in the past, I had always let him sniff my feet... he had always come through when he had written essays for me, done the entire assignments while I took the credit. But this was useless - no good to me whatsoever.

"What can I say..." I shook my head. "I'm disappointed, Anthony."

"Anthony...?" He whined. "But you mean, you don't need me... Please! I can try harder! I can do better!" He knew by the mention of his real name, that was it. He wasn't fit for purpose for this.

I shrugged. "Well, there aren't any more English Language modules I'll be doing, so that was your last chance. Bye, Anthony." As I headed towards the door, he said something that made me freeze.

"I'll pay you!" He practically shouted. "I'll pay you for your feet!"

I cocked my head to the side while he blushed. "I'm not a whore, Anthony. You can't buy my feet."

Then an idea popped into my head. It made so much sense. My mind racing and a giddy feeling about me, Anthony watched on as I took off my trainers, then my socks. The freak licked his lips, like I was going to give him my bare feet there and then, haha!

"How much would you pay? How much Anthony, for my socks?" I smirked at him, holding the soft, slightly damp white ankle socks in front of him as I stepped forward so he could get a closer look and whiff.

"I, er, your socks... I mean... I meant with your feet.... But your socks, erm, I..." He let out a nervous laugh and took a breath.

"It's simple. How much? Per sock?" I stared at him, enjoying his flustered state.

Clearing his throat, he tried and failed to look me in the eye, staring at the ground, at my bare feet, instead. "Ten... pounds?"

I sighed. "Really? For socks that I've been wearing today?" I pouted at him. "My feet have been inside them for hours, you know..."

"Twenty... er... thirty pounds!" He blurted out.

"Per sock? Thirty pounds? Done." I giggled at him. "Wow, you are a great negotiator, Anthony. You have cash on you?"

He shook his head, promising he would go to a cashpoint today. I told him damn right he would and there would be an extra ten pounds charge, for getting my socks early, before being paid.

"Well, at least I've got something out of the last few hours. You have - a new pair of socks. Enjoy!" I sneered at him, dropping them to the floor while he quickly scrambled them up, leaving me to walk out with my trainers in hand. "You can pay me the seventy quid during our seminar tomorrow.

So it ultimately was a waste of time, but the socks thing made sense. I wasn't selling my body, not selling my feet - but selling some old socks. Ones I've had for years, which I will not miss. And 70 quid the richer for it!

I am panicking though. The exam is happening in a couple of days and I've tried, going through the information again and again. I've even cut back on kickboxing training. Seriously, if Paul were here then this exam would not be going ahead. The idea of my record having a blemish on it... after Paul has made it clear I'm the standout student, my whole world would come crashing down. If only Anthony could've been a better teacher - he was so fucking useless!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 78: 18th January 2004

Dear Diary,

So the exam is done. And how do I feel about it? Pretty good, to be fair! I ended up getting help from an unexpected source...

Yesterday, I was starting to brick it. Sitting near Amy and Janki during our non-Paul seminar, which meant Language revision, I was practically snarling at their conversation.

"Well Anthony's gonna score 100% because he's a genius," Amy gushed in her fake-sweet American accent. "Studying with him at his yesterday was so awesome. He's, like, the smartest guy I know!" I smirked at this, thinking back to him hastily giving over the £70 a couple of days ago, subtly leaving it, wrapped in a hand-written note, thanking me and apologising for not being more of a help with the exam prep.

"Yeah he is! But so are we - we put time and effort into all of those mini-assignments last term, Ames. We know our stuff. It's only those losers who bluffed their way through that'll be in trouble..." Janki sniggered. She turned around and caught my eye. "Oh, hey Kayla. You wanna borrow some of my revision notes?"

Giving her a hard look, I briefly replied that I had aced all of the previous Language assignments, so didn't need the help. Anthony looked up from where he was sat a few chairs away, trying and failing to ignore me. Janki looked smug as she exchanged a smirk with Amy and assured me with a all the authenticity of a plumber's estimate. "Oh, yes Anthony told us how well your last study session went. Such a shame you two aren't working together anymore. Anthony, you can work with us any time from now on, honey."

Dylan sat next to me and rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't worry about those two. Getting high grades is like their fuel and sustenance in life. "It's just a stupid fucking exam. As long as you don't fail it, it's not going to make much difference, is it?"

I glared at him. "It does make a difference. Every exam and assignment affects your overall grade - don't you care about how well you do?"

He shrugged. "Not really. The first year counts as like, ten percent of the overall degree. If I get 50 overall, or 60 overall it's like one grade point. I'll still get a degree and I'm not aiming for a first. A 2:1, or a 2:2 is fine by me," He let out a yawn as he scratched at his messy black hair. I was both impressed and annoyed with him at the same time. "Plus..." he added before I could interject. "Latin, prefixes, language origins. It's just rules and systems - once you get the code, the rest comes pretty easily."

I considered him. He was good-looking, if a little too pleased with himself. Unlike most of the other first years I met, he was actually intelligent and not bad company. I swallowed my pride and asked if he'd help me prepare for the exam, to which he shrugged and agreed.

And how was studying with him compared to Anthony? It couldn't have been more different. He actually managed to make Latin and Olde English a little bit interesting. Yep! I never thought that would happen! I went back to his room after the study session so we could have some space. Dylan just explained things so well - so, so logically. I found myself picking up what I needed to and things were actually clicking into place, like a fog was lifting. I actually realised a newfound respect for Anthony too; he was an expert in something that was certainly not just tedious and dull. It had a system to it, like Dylan promised, and I was learning. After a couple of hours, of back-and-forth debate, questions from both sides and copious notes, I felt like I was ready. Well, much more ready than I had been until then.

"Dylan, honestly - you're a life saver," I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck as we sat together on the floor, which he seemed surprised at - gently packing my back as I squeezed him. "What can I...?"

"Do in return?" His voice was almost exasperated as I continued to hug him. "Nothing. This was helpful for both of us - I don't need anything from you, Kayla."

There was something strange about how he said it. I pulled apart from him and met his eyes - he didn't have to spend so long with me, and it was definitely more for my benefit than his...

"OK, I've got to get ready for my date," he suddenly announced, as though picking up on what I was wondering. No. It would never work - Dylan annoys me too much, winds me up and we would drive each other mad, no doubt. He'd been patient and helpful with revision, but that's it. I took that as my cue to leave, feeling buoyant and positive for the first time about this stupid exam. A study session when I didn't end up selling my socks to a foot loser - a massive contrast to Anthony indeed!

I even went to the gym for a kickboxing session last night too, so confident was I for the Language exam. I was chatting to April, in between practising kicks on Ryan, who had been reduced to a human dummy for each of us. Her demonstrating the kick on him, me then copying hers. She showed me an axe kick, which nearly knocked Ryan out! We couldn't control our laughter, April even commenting on why he even bothers to turn up to the sessions.

"He's the gopher boy, remember?" I giggled while April shook her head at him, as he meekly rolled up mats. "Plus, I think he has a thing for you...?"

April snorted. "Fat chance. The only thing he would be useful for would be as a human foot rest!"

Her comment stayed with me for a while. I'm intrigued about April and want to find out more; she's a few years older and much easier to talk to than the idiot students (apart from Dylan, after his help, to be fair) that I have to encounter.

So, I felt good going into the exam. I sat next to Dylan, who gave me a reassuring smile. By the end of it, I even had time to spare, checking back over the last page and looking around for the last couple of minutes. Anthony was scribbling still, Amy had her head in her hands, which made me grin and Janki was glaring at me.

We're getting the results soon, plus Paul is back in a couple of days! I really can't wait to see him... he's got some making up to do!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 79: 24th January 2004

Dear Diary,

37%! Thirty seven fucking percent! I am SO angry right now and can't even bring myself to look at Dylan, let alone confront him. I can't decide if he's inept or useless, or actually deliberately sabotaged me, along with Amy and Janki. Those two bitches were crowing about their scores. "98% each! Woohoo!" while I fled the room, red-faced and needing to scream. I even saw Stewart, the Head of English, walking over to them and shaking their hands.

They must have loved it. Their unbearably smug faces were just salt to the wound. They even beat Anthony - who I overheard tell them he'd got 92%, as I stormed past them. Amy was very close to him, wrapping herself around him while he stood stiffly and tried to catch my eye. I had NO time for them. Any of them!

I've phoned Paul, berating him for being away and allowing his to happen. Maybe I was a bit too harsh but I don't care. When he's back, I don't know if I even want to see him. My overall average is going to take a knock; I was so proud of my 90% or better in every single assignment. Yes, that matters to me, even if doesn't to Dylan. The total fucking bastard.

ARRRRGH!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 80: 29th January 2004

Dear Diary,

Things have settled down. And I think it will be OK. Paul came back a few days ago and kept to his word. He apparently met with Stewart and wanted to moderate the papers, changing my grade from 37% to 87%. He's updated it on the official Bournemouth system too, and even physically on the paper. I felt grateful but suspicious a the same time - what if this got me into trouble? Paul assured me it would be fine; Stewart wouldn't even check our grades - and none of the other tutors would have seen my paper.

So, of course that made me feel better. I relented, after more apologies, and flowers, plus him taking me out for an expensive dinner. Then a night at a beautiful hotel by the sea. So we're good. But I made him work for it! At one point, he was licking my feet, while I pleasured myself. That was a wonderful combination! With my foot pets, I'd never thought of combining the two things together, as it's always been about the control and the power - for me to do anything sexual would undermine that. But not with Paul.

So I could look Janki and Amy in the eye again, telling them that I didn't care what grade they got. They smirked at this, happily telling me that Stewart was so happy with how the assessment went, that he's considering integrating English Language elements to ALL Eng Lit modules. Fucking great!. I've spoken to Dylan about it, too.

"So, how did you do? Hopefully better than me... 52% in the end," He told me with a shrug.

I glared at him. "Good job that I had to do an all-nighter, going through ALL of the revision again, in my own way. Yeah, I got 87% which is my lowest score so far. And that was only because you wasted some of my time...." I made sure to say this in earshot of Janki, who was blatantly listening in.

"87%... well, that's... great!" He frowned. "But, I thought I helped you? You were really grateful for it, Kayla. I don't get you."

"Don't bother," I told him coldly. "Next time I need any revision help or anything to do with English, I won't bother wasting my time with a deadbeat like you."

I stormed away while he weakly called after me. I ignored him, pleased that I'd taken him down a peg. Who the hell does he think he is... what he explained to me was clearly wrong and I am NOT going to forgive him for it!

Speaking of losers, Steve came over the other day. I knew that freak couldn't stay away for long! He had been messaging me on MSN (I haven't given him my phone number, as I'd rather not), begging me for another chance to serve at my feet. So, after a kickboxing session at the gym, a one-on-one with April, I went straight to Steve's place...

"Extra sweaty for you, loser," I spoke to him with disdain as I took off each trainer, revealing my bare feet and watching him gulp nervously. "I've been kicking ass for ages without socks today. You've got some making up to do, after last time."

"Yes, er, Goddess..." He murmured, clearly enjoying being demeaned verbally.

I smirked at him and lifted a trainer to his nose. "First of all you can have ten minutes of inhaling each of my sweaty kickboxing shoes. Say thank you, after each breath. That will go some way to earning you the privilege of my feet again..."

He nodded meekly and bowed further down, taking my trainer in both hands and taking a deep whiff. He spluttered immediately and groaned, but thanked me, continuing to inhale the heady stench. They really fucking reeked - I've had the same pair of trainers for a while now and they have had hours of my sweaty feet inside!

Steve seemed to have learned his lesson from before, realising none of this was on his terms. That he was just a pawn in my game - that I was not here to fulfil any fantasies. He continued to sniff away, letting out weak murmurs of displeasure, but thanked me every time. I lost count quickly and actually switched to checking my phone, messaging Paul as my pet sniffed away.

Finally, the 10 minutes were up, and he could move on to the next trainer. Steve already looked red-faced and beaten, but he was dogged, to be fair to him. The 'thank you' after each sniff kept him well and truly grateful, having the desired effect of conditioning him to appreciate how beneath me he was. By the time he had completed the second trainer, I patted him patronisingly on the head, with one of my shoes, before stretching back on his bed, where I was lying down and raised up a foot.

"Now you've earned the pleasure of my feet, bitch. You can.... SMELL my foot. I want to hear a "Thank you, Goddess Kayla!" after each whiff. Got it?" I smirked at him, wiggling my toes and feeling my sweaty sole practically drip with perspiration.

"Smell.... I... thought I could.... lick?" Steve asked quietly. Big mistake Steve.

"Lick? LICK?!" I laughed down at him and casually slapped him in the face with my damp, dirty bare sole. Steve let out a yelp and quickly bowed his head, starting to apologise until I silenced him. "You seriously don't learn your lesson, do you. Oh, my pathetic little slave... I was going to ask for 10 minutes of smelling of each sole, but after THAT... You can be my human footrest again. For an hour..."

Steve whimpered but nodded, knowing it was the only thing he could realistically do. He positioned himself on all fours while I stretched out contentedly, letting out a "Ahhh!" to show how relaxed I was. I berated him some more for daring to ask such a request. That he was back to square one again for tasks, and that maybe I shouldn't bother with him as a foot pet any more.

I had another idea; ordering him to fetch me some masking tape, I decided to wrap this around one stinky trainer to his nose. A good few layers of tape, so that his nose was fully buried into the insole, the tape around the back of his head, he was forced to continually suck in my acrid trainer stench, while being my foot rest.

After twenty minutes, his soft whimpering was turning into full on, desperate sobs as he dropped to the ground. Letting out a sigh, I removed the tape, while he sucked in some oxygen, his face blotched and beetroot-red as he spluttered and whimpered, face down on the floor. OK, maybe I'd pushed it a bit far, but he was so fucking weak, so useless.

I was bored of him by then and he was pretty much passed out, so I left him to recover. He hasn't sent the usual grovelling messages on MSN since then; maybe he's realised that sweaty kickboxing feet are more challenging than he thought!

To be fair, foot fetish guys like Steve and Anthony are just the easiest to break.

I just remembered that Gabrielle called me a couple of times earlier. She sent me a text asking me to call her, but why should I? She's so damn bossy and I'm still smarting from what happened at the end of the summer. I know she mentioned her concerns about Ross before, but the more or I think about it, the more I've thought it's simply not my problem. I've got enough going on without dragging up my unwanted past.

Love,
Kayla

Entry 81: 11th February 2004

Dear Diary,

I've had so much of my time taken up with kickboxing lately - with that and everything else, there's been little time to write.

The tournament is next week, eek! I'm feeling good about it though. Between the one-to-one sessions with April, various private beatdowns with Ryan and the weekly group sessions, I'm feeling confident. Even Harriet, the girl who I beat in the final before Christmas, has been giving me tips and helping with my technique. I've noticed though that the guys in the group have all left, apart from Ryan. We were girl-heavy to begin with - maybe they feel emasculated or getting much attention. It's not our fault that we - as in us girls - are just better!

April and I had a brilliant night out a few days ago. She is a lot of fun and such a confident, powerful woman. She's very striking - British Dad and Thai Mum and has always lived in England. So she gets plenty of attention from guys, but she's very adept and deflecting it, or firmly telling them 'no'. She's not gay though; after what happened with Jess (no word from her - not surprised), I just felt like it was worth knowing this. She's had boyfriends before but has given up meeting the 'perfect' guy, after a few bad experiences. She's 25 and totally unbothered about being in a relationship. She even left with a guy at the end of the night, while I went back to Paul's. Apparently, he was a 'good fuck' but she's ditched him already. Good for her!

Paul is tricky to get hold of, literally! His wife is away a LOT but also seems to be back too often. It's annoying that he's not just around when I want him to be, and I feel like I'm at his beck and call. Like going back to his on the night out with April - he happened to text me at 11pm, obviously wanting some late night action as his wife was away until the next morning. Yes, I did go to see him, but I didn't feel good about it. Still, I love going to his house. It's huge - so much bigger than my student digs and Mum's hellhole!

He told me he LOVED me the other day. I nearly said it back but challenged him on it.

"Hang on, if you really do love me, why are you still with your wife?" I crossed my legs at the ankle, while he massaged them - something he is excellent at, by the way. "Do you love her, too?"

He rambled for a while before taking a breath. "OK, the short answer, darling, is "No". I haven't been in love with Veronica for a while, to be honest. I love you - I want to be with you."

Does he really love me? I'm not naive; this could be a fantasy - I can't take the risk of fully trusting Paul. So I simply told him that if he doesn't love, he shouldn't be with her. That he should be with me, if that's what he truly wants.

So, in the meantime, I'm not fully committing to him either - I told him this, that if he really wants us to be exclusive, he would need to tell his wife the truth. Until then, I'm free to see who I want!

Ooh.. A VERY funny thing happened last a couple of days ago...

It was my birthday - my 19th. Yeah, I didn't want to make a fuss and Paul was busy that night, so I agreed to the girls in the dorm taking me out to the Student Union bar. Hardly thrilling, but I appreciated them doing something for me. I think they're all a bit in awe of me - whenever I speak they all go silent and can barely look me in the eye! Anyway, I was at the bar with Angel, who was getting the round in. A guy kept looking at me. He was handsome and well-built to be fair, cute stubble and deliberately messy hair, which suited him.

"Is it... Kayla?" He finally walked closer, a curious look on his cute face, while I looked blankly at him. "You know, well, knew Tom. Right?"

I blinked. "Tom...?"

The guy pulled a face, rolling his eyes briefly. "Tom. Tom Evans. You had a thing with him, right? He told me you were pretty...rough with him. Before he quit Uni. You're mental, you know that. Fucking psycho..."

He shoved past me, making me spill the drink slightly that Angel had just bought me. What a fucking prick, right?! Apparently it was Sam Pedant - on the first football team (Angel knows everyone it seems) and, clearly, a mate of Tom. It wasn't long until I encountered him again...

Later on in the night, I noticed him chatting to Angel. She is objectively attractive - light blonde hair, cute face but I also know she's naive and that this guy was friends with Tom - the same guy she had complained about. Rather than confronting him, I had a MUCH better idea. Taking Angel to when side after she went to the ladies' room, I told her everything...

It all played out so, so damn perfectly, and Angel was in on the whole thing. She'd hooked him in and was walking back with him, arm-in-arm together to our dorm. I stayed patient, heading off several minutes after them, picking up my camera from my room, then loitering outside Angel's room, until I heard my cue, my name being called...

Thrusting the door open, I nearly laughed at Sam's surprised cry, Angel straddling him in just her bra and panties, Sam already with a clear bulge in his boxers. Angel held the idiot's legs steady while I, already barefoot and wearing a small nightie, skipped along to the end of the bed and flopped down so that my bare legs were wrapped around his neck, squeezing him in a head scissors.

Sam was strong, making us wrestle with him for several minutes, but he was no match in the end for my head scissors. Since kickboxing training, my legs are more powerful than ever! So he at last flopped to the side, flailing his arms, which Angel soon caught so that he was well and truly trapped. His resistance crumbled quite quickly after that, especially as Angel started to lightly graze her hand along the crotch, the two of us laughing as his bulge started to get bigger...

"No... don't...!" He called out, sounding a little desperate. "Crazy fucking bitches..."

"You really don't help yourself, loser," I giggled, angling my legs away after I had released the scissor hold, overpowering him so we could sit next to one another, our legs stretched out so our feet started rubbing in his face. To be fair to the idiot, he had some fight in him and it took a good few minutes or so of relentless foot smothering, until he was flat on his back as we each held on to an arm, our bodyweight on his legs.

"So easy to tame," I sighed down at him, while Angel giggled, moving a leg back to lightly prod her sole against his hard-on. "Are all first year boys so fucking pathetic?"

I then asked Angel to pass me my digital camera - I had left it by the door when I'd arrived. Sam had dropped his arms by the sides, not even trying to fight us by now so it was easy keeping him steady by then. He was clearly humiliated but turned on at the same time. The best combination for 'alpha' pricks like him.

Angel took photos of my feet over Sam's face, his boxers yanked down to reveal his dick, which he let out a small protesting moan at, but didn't stop us. We even did a few of us together, Angel expertly turning the camera around so we could get our grinning faces in, our feet over his body in different positions.

"So, what is it, Sam? You want to crawl out of here, like Tom did with me, or you want to go a step further and we finish you off?" I smirked down at my latest defeated foe, Angel now sat next to me and giggling, him defeated with our feet in his face. We moved them away slightly, so he could breathe in some air.

"I... I'll... Oh God...." He let out a huge sigh, closing his eyes in defeat. "Finish me.... off..."

We both laughed down at him, shaking our heads in how much power we held over this guy who had been so cocky before.

"You heard him, Angel. Let's finish him off. It's my birthday after all and what better way to celebrate... Let's see how long it takes for.... this guy to pass out under our bare feet...!" Angel gasped but was game - once again, going up in my estimations! I pinched his nose with my big and middle toe, while she pushed down hard with each sole, against his mouth, cheeks. All over his stupid face.

Sam was struggling with increasingly rapid breaths, his face turning purple - a bit like Steve's was the other week when I taped his head around my stinky trainer! I was loving it, holding his nostrils tight with my toes and using the other foot to cover that one, so he really had no chance to breathe. I'm not sure how long it took, but at some point Sam passed out. When he went still, his arms becoming limp, we quickly removed our feet and high-fived when we confirmed he was still breathing. We didn't want to do any real damage, after all!

We took some more photos, then woke him up by pouring some water over his face. Coughing and spluttering, he groaned as we sniggered at him, eagerly showing some of the photos on the small display screen of my camera. Putting his head in his hands, he merely groaned as we dismissively kicked him off Angel's bed, ordering him to crawl out of here. He did so, shuffling weakly forward and only just having the wherewithal to grab his shirt and jeans on the way out.

So he did crawl out of there after all - HA! It was so much fun and I loved chatting about it with Angel afterwards. I've never 'shared' a guy like that before. The closest I've had was when Jen joined me to rest her socked feet on Ross's back, last summer. That was it!

What a birthday! Angel and I haven't spoken about it since and I don't even know if there's going to be any follow up with Sam... We'll see!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 82: 14th February 2004

Dear Diary,

It's Valentine's Day and I'm fucking annoyed. Paul and I were having a great date. He'd taken me out for dinner - a lovely Greek restaurant, where we were just having the best time. He was holding my hand, telling me how he was planning on talking to Veronica - his wife - about ending the marriage. When his phone went, I honestly thought it would a brief chat - that he'd shut her down.

Of course not...

His wife was back earlier than expected and she was wondering why he wasn't at home. He promised that he'd meet up with me for lunch tomorrow, which I already told him not to bother with - I was done being having our plans cancelled, not being able to see him... I've made it clear that until he ends it with his wife, we are done!

Instead, I messaged Ryan for some late night kickboxing practice. He messaged back to say that he had his girlfriend round, which I just saw as a challenge. It wasn't my problem that he should have got rid of her - it was clear by now that my kickboxing took priority. Watching her storm away, shouting that it was over to Ryan, after I arrived and straight out asked him if he was ready, didn't make me feel sorry for him, to be honest. I felt a bit bad for her, which just made me kick him with extra venom!

"THAT'S for making your girlfriend... ex-girlfriend feel humiliated...." I yelled as smashing him with a roundhouse kick.

"And THAT'S for not making ME the most important thing... you should have got rid of her as SOON as I messaged you!" I had pulled off a crisp axe kick, glaring at him as he weakly struggled to his feet.

I pinned him down with a bare foot to the chest. "You think I WANT to be spending Valentine's Day with you?" I sneered at him while he sank his head back down on the floor, closing his eyes. I thought about what I'd said for a moment - actually, I must have done, as why would I have come there? Of course I didn't articulate that to my kickboxing bitch - he didn't need to see any self-doubt. So I let him back up, pulling off a few more kicks before feeling like I'd had my frustrations dealt with. I was about to get him to lick my feet before a text from Angel changed my mind.

"I've got Sam over in my room - he's kissing my feet like a little bitch. You wanna join? Hehe! xxx"

It wasn't the IDEAL Valentine's evening, but it was fun. I was enjoying thrashing Ryan but having my feet kissed, along with Angel's, by this jock-prick was highly satisfying.

I was impressed - again - with Angel. She had taken his phone number on the Student Union night out, summoning him to come over to hers. She'd had no Valentine's plans but he did! A bit like Ryan, those romantic intentions for Sam had been ruined. The idea of him ditching his date and heading to Angel's, immediately forced to kneel before her and kiss her feet was hilarious. I loved it! Apparently he had been complaining, which made me roll my eyes, before I spoke down to him.

"Sam, is this your dream Valentine date? Kissing two girls' feet?!" I snickered, while we both stared challengingly down to him. Sam was looking frustrated, clearly not happy to be at our mercy. "To be fair, you've got my guts than Tom. He left Bournemouth like a sissy little bitch after he kissed MY feet. You've got stamina, good for you!"

"Yeah, nothing to do with the... pictures you've got... on me..." Sam muttered between kissing my bare sole.

I was expecting some rebelliousness. These 'alphas' never just surrender easily. This is why it's more fun, in a way, to demean and humiliate them than foot guys like Steve and Anthony. Neither of which I've seen recently, by the way.

"Angel, this is the perfect example of using negative reinforcement. This loser, who is literally kissing our feet thinks it's OK to speak up. It's not..." Pulling back the leg of my foot Sam was not kissing, I slammed my foot hard in his face.

He let out a sharp cry of pain, clutching his nose, and leaning forward to gulp in some air. "All I said was... Arrghh!" Another slap from my foot, this time across his cheek so my nails lightly cut against his eyebrow.

"It's basic operant conditioning," I told Angel conspiratorially before turning back to Sam. "Apologise for speaking up. Twice."

He did so, before moving on to him thanking us for letting him kiss our feet, which made Angel giggle and Sam turn red with anger and embarrassment. Sam was soon reduced to a silent, if reluctant, foot bitch. We ridiculed him, while he did as told, knowing that the photos on him were more than compelling a reason to obey. The irony was that we took MORE pictures of him, which he was powerless to prevent.

I considered moving on to foot licking but decided not to. No, if a new project like Sam it needs to be slow, deliberate. I want also to break Angel in gradually to being a domme like me - that needs to be systematic!

When we were done with him, we made him thank us again before meekly crawling away from us. I wonder if his date forgave him for ditching her, and what she would think if she knew the truth! HA!

Love,
Kayla

Entry 83: 23rd February 2004

Dear Diary,

Things with Paul are not panning out the way I thought they would. Coming back from his one-bed flat, after pretty disappointing sex, I'm getting less convinced than ever that him and his wife no longer being together was the right thing for us.

Yeah that's all over. At first, he'd made out to be this daring, romantic hero, standing up to the wife that he didn't love, to be with his one true soulmate. When he excitedly called me to explain it was over, I felt elated. It was a loveless marriage and it FINALLY meant he would stop discarding me at the last moment and be unavailable for days at a time. So, I was full-on straddling him, loving the sound of him moaning in ecstasy, well into the night when a sound at the bedroom stopped us both, Paul literally quivering under me...

"I was just coming back for... Oh," An attractive, blonde woman stood at the door. I recognised her at once. Veronica... "This must be the delightful Kayla."

I rolled off Paul and stared at her, keeping a poker face as I greeted her in response, while she met my gaze steadily.

"Kayla, you are welcome to this worm of a man. Paul, my lawyer will be in contact after the weekend. After that, I want you out of here. I own this place and it's me who's initiating the proceedings after all..." She looked inscrutable as she glanced at her fingernails before fixing her husband with an icy stare.

I turned to him. "I thought you... hang on, she ended it with you?"

Veronica laughed. A creaky, brittle quality to it - it was not pleasant. "Oh, sweetheart, I wouldn't believe anything this man tells you. He had it off with another student years ago. This was his final chance and he blew it. I happened to see his phone and saw your messages. Well, at least he's having it off with a fellow Buffy fan - that's something, I suppose..."

His mouth hanging open, Paul couldn't meet either of us in the eye. He stayed silent until she stormed away, his eyes closed in despair. Of course, he tried to twist what happened, but I soon got to the truth, shaking my head in disgust while he desperately kissed my feet, pleading for forgiveness and promising it would all be OK.

Well, to be honest, it hasn't been. He's had to find a small, one-bed flat to rent - not actually far from my student digs. The divorce settlement does not seem to be going well so far; Veronica was the higher earner of the two and owned the vast majority of the house - a small payout was all he got for that. Based on his infidelities - the other student was one in Sussex, who Paul swears had massively exaggerated events and that it taken time for Veronica to believe him - he had a lot going against him.

Going round to his poky flat is nothing like his spacious, fashionably-arranged four bed house. No, this was a comedown all right. Yes, he's around a bit more (though has various meetings with his lawyer, Veronica and her lawyer, bank loan managers...) now, but when he is, he doesn't have the same spark or confidence. A few days ago, he barely lasted a minute when I got on top of him - a bit of movement around his groin and he ejaculated so quickly. I was put out, especially after he didn't offer to satisfy me; I had to force him to use his fingers to get me off, while he sucked meekly away on my toes.

Last night was worse. I had been sitting on his crotch with my feet in my face, giggling at how fun it was rubbing my bare soles against his beard, loving the sensation of the prickles of hair against it when he let out a small whimper, his body convulsing. Yep, he'd come in his pants without me hardly touching him. I brought up the whole premature issue with him, which he got all stammering and defensive about, promising me that it was to do with the divorce. I'm not so sure.

So, I'm not as motivated to see him so much, to be honest. I've been focusing on my studies, where things have settled down and I've got into a good rhythm. Even that Paul doesn't need to help me with - the recent creative writing focus was a lot of fun, which of course I smashed. I've deliberately kept my distance from Janki and Amy, though it annoys me when they pipe up so much, especially during Paul's lectures or seminars. It's like they have to prove how great ideas are. And it annoys me when Paul acknowledges them; I've told him not to, but his point is that he can't show such bias to me publicly. I guess he's right...

We had to work in pairs on a debate project and I wasn't sure who to go to. Interestingly, Amy went straight to Anthony while Janki was trying to entice Dylan in. I think she fancies him as she always laughs too loudly at his jokes. No-one was looking to work with me - I get it; I'm successful and outspoken. Plus, Janki and Amy stir so much shit that others aren't willing to speak to me. When Dylan came over, trying to escape Janki, I mostly agreed to pair up with him, just to spite her. The look on her stupid face was worth it!

Again, to be fair, working with Dylan was fun. We chose "Emma" by Jane Austen from the selected texts. He tried to assassinate her character but I was having NONE of it. I cited her weak father, easy-to-manipulate friends... The debate that we carried out in front of the others in the group went well - I beat him, of course! Though Dylan was a fair loser and even bought me a coffee in town afterwards to congratulate me. Maybe he's not such a dick. We chatted about books, music. It was the most time I've spent with a guy without their being anything foot-related or sexual. Unusual!

The main thing (other than the Paul situation...) on my mind is kickboxing. I've got the tournament in a few days... eek! But I'm looking forward to it. Angel's coming to support me, which is cool. I've been growing closer to her ever since the experiences with Sam. After another couple of tag-teaming sessions on him, I decided to let her have him - he was suitably meek and dutiful with his foot licking (yep that was ALWAYS going to happen!) but she's promised to threaten him with me, should he do anything out of line...

Love,
Kayla

Entry 84: 27th February 2004

Dear Diary,

Well, it's over. Overall, I'm pretty happy.

I made it to the semi-finals, WOOHOO!

That meant winning three straight matches before I got knocked out in the final four. I'm so exhausted from it all that I won't do a play-by-play, which I normally love doing. To summarise, the first match was surprisingly tough; the next was over with one perfectly placed axe kick and the quarter final was a good back-and-forth.

By the time I got to the semis, I was optimistic. Two more wins then the trophy would be mine, and for April's kickboxing club! It was an all girls tournament of course, which was perfect for our group being all girls (apart from gopher-boy Ryan!). He was even cleaning my equipment between rounds and allowing me to practice kicks and punches between rounds. Good bitch!

The girl I lost to was this annoyingly athletic, very good-looking girl called Laura. I found out after (from Angel of course) that she's a second year at Bournemouth and captain of the gymnastics team. Toned, quick and with devastatingly quick feet, I knew I was going to struggle. Again, I can't recall this all in much detail - I'm writing this flat on my back in bed while Ryan is slowly licking my feet - but it was pretty brutal. I got a couple of slight hits in but Laura was too good. She transitioned between kicks so gracefully that I was beaten in not much time at all.

After though, she was very gracious. Having won the final too, she was getting a lot of attention and praise. However, she singled me out to talk to, having heard from April that I've only been learning for several months. So we chatted and have exchanged numbers. Angel told me afterwards that she's one of the most popular girls on campus and has gym eating out of her hand. Part of me is interested; she's got this magnetic quality. But another part doesn't want to get drawn into a popularity contest - that reminds me when I thought I'd befriended Charlotte last summer.

Back to Ryan for a moment. I've needed his foot licking a bit more than usual lately as I haven't seen Paul very often. I haven't seen Steve since he nearly passed out with my trainer taped to him. He inevitably started messaging me again, but I got bored of him and simply ignored a few of his pathetic messages on MSN. He's even offered to do all of my laundry and other chores for me, just to smell my feet again. Hmm, I might take him up on that as I could definitely do without chores! Anyway, Ryan. He's become increasingly devoted to the point that he doesn't need any instruction. Just a look from me and he's on his knees, bowing down. The raise of my eyebrows, and he's licking my soles clean. I noticed recently him looking more neutral about it; it's taken a while but I'm musing how much is that he's just got used to me dominating him, and how much he might be enjoying it.

To be fair, I'd never intended keeping him around for so long. Part of the reason is that it's always fun kicking him around, literally, especially in our kickboxing group. Having him to personally clean my feet is such a pleasure, especially knowing this was the same arrogant prick that thought he could dominate me! But is knowing he doesn't enjoy the torture, make it part of the fun! So if he is starting to like me abusing him... well I'm honestly not sure about that.

I've got no guilt having a jock like Ryan slather at my feet. Nor did I when Sam, or Steve did. Paul has no right to expect monogamy from he, considering how often he was switching his attentions between me and Veronica. He hasn't even asked if I'm doing stuff with anyone else. Strictly speaking, I'm not being unfaithful to him anyway, as nothing sexual has happened between me and any of those guys. Emotionally speaking, the only one I've really got on with is Dylan! And nothing physical has happened there.

Speaking of Paul, last time I saw him, he was more attentive - not just sexually (though he did go down on me, without any instruction) but he also more present and focused. Maybe he's turned a corner as the divorce outcome is becoming clearer. Still, I want him to show that gusto and electricity I couldn't deny before. He's still great at adoring my feet, which is something I am impressed with, as he switches between worshiping them to sex, like it's all linked together. Which is how it should be. It's hard to ignore this voice at the back of my head that's telling me, maybe he is just better off at my feet, since the sex hasn't been so great.

I'm not sure. I'll give him a chance to show that he still has it, that we still have something. I'm going to lie back for a bit longer, enjoy Ryan licking my feet. I might actually get him to recap my victories in detail - telling me each kick I did, in order, in between foot licks. Ooh, I like that idea...!


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