The Making

"I think you've eliminated every ache I've accumulated in my feet over the past week, Rhett. I also think you now deserve a bit of rest while I relax some more. But before that, you may have your kiss."

As I had done the week before, I slowly bent forward to bring my face down to the tops of her feet. With trembling lips, I softly paid homage to them both. "Thank you." I whispered in gratitude.

"You're very welcome." she said from above. "And now you may lie down on your back here in front of me, so we both may enjoy some rest."

As I did, and relief flooded into my knees, and my hands relaxed at my sides, I wondered what she had in mind. Almost immediately she placed both of her feet on my chest, mere inches from my reclining face.

Apparently with a remote control, she turned on her stereo to play some quiet music. We both remained unmoving as such for some unknown length of time. With my eyes cast downward toward my chest, I drank in the beauty of her feet as they rested upon me, and my consciousness entered a place where nothing else but they existed, and I knew beyond all doubt that at that moment in time, there was no place in the world that I would rather be.

At some point I must have been so entranced that I didn't realize that my eyes had closed. I was subtly jarred from this state when I felt her toes softly caressing the side of my face. After tracing them around my jaw and up the other side, she slowly ran them up and around my eyes, across my forehead, and up to rummage around and about my scalp and hair. When she had had her fill of that, she brought her big toe to rest upon my lips, moving it lightly to and fro along them. I couldn't help but slip the tip of my tongue out to taste it. She encouraged me further by slipping her toe inside between them, which I greedily began to suckle.

As I did, I suddenly became acutely aware of her other foot as it gently brushed down my belly, around my groin, and with a feather like touch, lightly stroked up the bottom side of my manhood, which had standing upright and rigid, in tribute and supplication, throughout. I couldn't suppress a shudder and involuntary groan.

"So, were you able to honor my request not to relieve yourself this week, Rhett?" her question came from on high.

"Yes, Sariana." I hoarsely replied.

After a moment, she simply said, "I'm glad."

With those two words, all of my agony of the past week was washed away in exhilaration.

"You like all of this, don't you Rhett." She further queried, as she continued to slowly slide the sole of her foot around my face, and oh so gently run her toes up my shaft.

"Oh, yes, Sariana"

"You would like more of it, wouldn't you? To spend more time with my feet. To do more for them. Care for them more. Pamper them more. Be devoted to them in every way. Wouldn't you?"

"Oh God yes, Sariana."

The stroking with her lower foot and toes became firmer.

"You want even more, don't you. You want to become a slave to my feet."

"Yes. Yes. Sariana."

"I think that under those circumstances, it should be Miss Sariana, don't you agree?"

"Ahhh... yes, Miss Sariana." I moaned in utter submission.

"Ask me, Rhett... Beg me."

"Please, Miss Sariana... PLEASE."

"Please, what?"

Her attentions to my phallus became more insistent and rapid.

"Please let me become a slave to your feet." I pleaded. "I will care for them... comfort them...worship them at all times... I will do anything... and everything for them. Please, Miss Sariana... I beg you."

"I think that I would like that very much, Rhett." She now brought her foot that had been on my face, down to anchor the top side of my pole, while squeezing the underside up and down with the sole of her other foot.

"Yes Rhett, I accept. I accept you as my foot slave. I will allow you to care for my feet in any and all ways that I desire. And I will allow you to worship them whenever I deem that you have earned it."

Her two feet now surged up and down in unison, as the part of me that made me a man was securely imprisoned where it belonged, between them, and I felt any remaining control that I had rapidly slipping away.

"Tell me." Her voice rose. "Tell me Who you are. Declare to me What you are. Swear to me in an oath greater that the one you've already kept. TELL ME.'

"I'm Rhett..." I panted. "I'm your foot slave... ", I was on the verge. "I swear by all that I am that I'll always be a slave to your FEE... AAAARRRRHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Great geysers of my passion shot high into the air, in spasm after spasm, as I bucked and thrashed and cried out uncontrollably, but remaining firmly within her grip. After what seemed almost unending time, the torrents began to subside, until I was completely spent and done. She graciously granted me time to silently recover and come back into myself.

"That was quite an impressive expression of your pledge." she finally spoke. "... if a bit messy." she added with a grin.

I looked up at her in wonder.

Her face grew more serious. "You did mean everything that you said, didn't you?"

I sensed in her voice not only hope that I did, but even a touch of fear that I might not.

"Absolutely." I ardently professed.

She let out a long breath that had not been apparent that she had been holding. "Good." she concluded. "Now that that's settled, you can perform your first new duty by cleaning this up," she indicated, holding one of her cum covered feet over my mouth, "and when you're done with both, we have a lot to discuss."

I had never tasted my spunk before, and it wasn't all that pleasant. But given from where I was licking it, it was more than palatable. After what she deemed a thorough job, we did indeed discuss, although given our new relative stations, it was more than a bit one-sided.

She readily acknowledged that we both had our own lives to lead, but that we would both set aside time together for this new special relationship, "to scratch this itch" that we shared as she put it. She thought that every Friday evening would continue to be an excellent time, but as my service as her foot slave would encompass everything related to her feet, such as the meticulous care of her voluminous shoe collection, and the hand laundering of her stockings and socks, she would give me a key to the house so that I could arrive in the afternoon, several hours before she got home from work, so that I could attend to such, and any other necessary tasks.

She also made it clear that she expected me to continue to honor my original promise of self-denial. While she wouldn't guarantee that events such as had culminated this particular night would occur every time, as it would have to be earned, and would be rewarded only upon her whim, she believed that such a hope and anticipation would be a further inducement to me to perform all of my duties at a peak. Given that I had never before experienced such a mind blowing climax as I had that night, I certainly had to agree.

**********

And so, our new routine was established. I would get to her house each Friday around 3, and let myself in. My first order of business was the care and maintenance of her footwear. She hadn't been kidding about how large a number of boots, pumps, heels, sandals and slippers she had, and kept on multiple racks in her closet. She apparently wore a different pair every day, sometimes probably more than one, and would leave them all in a jumble on the floor, awaiting me to clean, polish and buff them all, before precisely restacking them in their proper place and order. She had purchased a smaller, separate laundry hamper just for her stockings and socks, and I would hand wash the week's-worth, and then set them to dry on a laundry rack in the wash room, to later collect and put all away before I would leave for the night.

She wanted me to remain clothed while I performed these chores until she arrived home, usually around 6. I would greet her at the front door, kneel down to remove whatever footwear she was wearing, and place slippers upon her feet. She would then go to freshen up and change into more comfortable evening clothing while I would await her in the living room with her favorite glass of wine. As she always liked to actually watch me disrobe, I would then do so in front of her upon her return after she had settled into her easy chair. I would then begin to ease out the cares of her week with my vigorous massage of her feet. Unlike the first two times, when she had lain back to luxuriate in my ministrations, now she would most often talk to me as I rubbed, about her day, her week, or anything that came to her mind, and would invite me to discuss mine as well. I was truly humbled that she seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. She would often make me laugh with stories that she told, which greatly surprised me, as I so rarely laughed much before. The time would just seem to fly by before she would call an end to her massage, and have me apply lotion to her feet and legs. It was then time for her weekly pedicure.

She had taught me early on how to thoroughly remove the previous week's polish from her nails, then carefully file each of them to maintain their perfect shape. After placing cotton balls between each toe, I would proceed to meticulously apply the lacquer of her most recently chosen color. It had taken me weeks to master the even application to all of her toes without any falling upon her surrounding skin, and I was thrilled on the day she finally pronounced herself fully satisfied with my efforts.

While I would always begin the drying by softly blowing on them, she preferred to complete the process by further air drying them as she rested her legs and feet upon my back as I knelt on all fours before her. Once finished she would have me turn over to lie on my back, and bring her feet to then rest on my chest.

During this time she would do any of a variety of things, read a book, talk or text with friends on her phone, or often just watch TV or a DVD. One evening, as a special salute to our forebearers, she even took in the whole of 'Gone with The Wind'. When her feet weren't resting upon my face, I could have turned my head to watch along with her, but I was far more entranced by the sight that was planted on my chest.

To many, if not most, it might seem that the hours I would remain as such would be crushing in boredom. Nothing for me could be farther from the truth. It is almost impossible to describe the transcendent realm that my mind would enter, knowing that she was doing things that gave her pleasure, while her greatest pleasure might actually be that she was enjoying them while literally having me underfoot.

These weren't the only joys during these times. Her feet were seldom stationary for any extended period. They would often randomly roam over much of me, as if unconsciously searching for new ways and places to further enthrall me. And it never failed to do so. As she would text on her phone, her toes might find my mouth, and have me lave and suck, to later wipe them dry on my face. My body would thrum as her other foot would glide up and down my thighs, reaching a crescendo when it would playfully alight on my sac. Such touches would ebb and flow, bringing me back and forth from a state of almost unbearable yearning. As our night together would draw to a close though, she would almost always draw forth that final explosion on my desire. Almost always. She never wanted me to come to expect such largess. She had to have something 'to ensure continued exemplary service' as she put it. I ever strove to prove that this would never be an issue.

After my mandatory clean-up, she would allow me to kiss her feet in gratitude, and then dress. As she would see me to her door for my departure, she would always end the night by saying, "Thank you, Rhett."

The very first time I had replied back, "Thank YOU, Miss Sariana."

"No, Rhett." she had stated on that occasion. "When you're clothed, I'm Sariana. It's only when you're naked that I'm 'Miss'".

My heart bounded even more in gratitude.

**********

As the weeks rolled by, I found it easier and easier to withstand the tension of my self-enforced denial between Fridays. It became such a small price to pay for the far greater rewards that I was granted. This lessening of the almost single-minded obsession that I had been experiencing since the night we had met, helped me to clear my mind and refocus on all of the other aspects of my life. Indeed, it actually seemed to sharpen and enliven them, particularly my interests in technology creativity, mine and others, and in my various charitable concerns, all of which had been flagging for some time. It was as if I was being repurposed with a new energy.

I also began to wonder more about Sariana, and her life beyond those few hours that we shared each week. Yes, we talked on a great number of topics during those times when I massaged her feet, including some superficial elements of our lives. But did I really know much of her at all, her hopes and dreams, what made her happy and content, apart from that particular facet which ensnared us both together for that short time each week. And I was surprised that I really did want to learn these things, even as I clearly understood and believed that I had no right to such knowledge except of that she might wish to impart.

Still, there were certain mundane things that began to mystify me. One small one in particular was that she never ate anything while I was there. It didn't seem that she would have time to eat anything substantial before she got home from work, as I was able to do before I arrived there hours earlier. Maybe she would have her dinner late, after I left, or she got by with a big lunch. Neither of these seemed to me to be a good situation, so I resolved to investigate at least this small matter a bit the next time I went.

I had never actually been in her kitchen before, as there had been no need to do so for the completion of my explicitly charged responsibilities. But I had never been given any prohibition against it. Yet it was with some trepidation as I then did so. Entering, I found more than a few used and uncleaned dishes and utensils in the sink and on the counters. Her fridge and freezer were filled with ready to eat, microwaveable meals, and her cupboards only with prepackaged edibles and little else. Looking into her kitchen trash bin, there were only the remains of such.

Being something of a gourmet myself, who enjoyed concocting and preparing my own meals, one of the few personal things in which I took pride, I suddenly felt the great need, at least this one night, to do something like that for her. As I had come a few hours earlier on this occasion, I believed that if I marshalled my time crisply, I could do so. Without shirking in the quality of my regularly assigned duties, I did not dawdle in my usual prolonged enchantment with them. Finishing then well before I usually did, I was able to hurry out to a local market to purchase all that I needed to make something fast but, I hoped, good enough to be to her liking.

Having seen that many of her pre-prepared meals were seafood oriented, I made a main dish of jumbo shrimp oreganato, with sides of fresh spinach sautéed in olive oil and garlic, and a baked potato stuffed with fresh dill-infused sour cream. I was successful in having it all done just in time to greet her at the door as she arrived home. As I removed her mid-calf high boots and placed on her slippers, she quickly sensed that something was different.

"What is that... very nice smell?" she asked, seeming not sure if she should be annoyed at the possible variance to our routine.

"I, ah... well," I hastened, poorly, to try to explain. "I've noticed that you never eat dinner the nights that I'm here, Sariana. I eat before I come, and maybe you do so after I leave, but I worry that you might not eat at all, and I don't think that that's good. So, I took a chance and may have overstepped my place, but at least for tonight I tried to make you a home cooked meal."

A long moment passed during which she appeared bemused. Finally... "You're right. I usually do grab a small bite after you leave." She paused a few seconds more as if trying to explain. "I'm usually too hyped up anticipating our evening together to notice how hungry I might be." Another few seconds. "But something smells so delicious that I'm suddenly ravenous, and I think we can delay our usual 'activities' a bit so that we can take care of that."

"I hoped you'd say that. Thank you. Everything is about ready, and I'll get it on the table."

"Okay, let me go change while you do that."

When she returned back to the dining room, all of the food was set out before her. She quickly noticed the single place setting.

"Well, I guess you did say that you eat before you come." She offered. "And I can serve myself, Rhett, but we don't want you idle as I do. So, why don't you crawl under the table and worship my feet while I eat."

I couldn't conceive of anything that I would rather do.

My oral adoration was further stimulated by her occasional comments while she ate, which were clearly intended for me to hear.

"Absolutely scrumptious." was one.

"The best home-cooked meal I've ever had." was another.

And, as she was finishing her dinner, "You know, after my feet, the next best way to this girl's heart may be through her stomach. And right now, I'm getting the best of both."

After several more beats, "Well slave, now that I'm done, you're going to have to work awfully hard for the rest of the evening to try to surpass all this."

I did try to the best of my abilities. And I was exquisitely rewarded for it at the end. Before I dressed to leave for the evening, I completely cleaned up the kitchen and put away all the cleaned and dried stockings and socks. As she walked with me to the front door, she stopped me for a moment.

"I can't thank you enough for that fabulous meal tonight, Rhett."

My heart jumped.

"I was wondering if you'd like to make another next Friday."

"With great pleasure, Sariana."

"There is one thing, though." She conditioned.

"What is that?" I responded with a touch of concern.

"As much as I enjoyed your worship while I ate," she continued, "I've frankly become very tired of always eating alone. So, I think that I would like it very much if we dined together next week."

It had been pure heaven for me as I had adored her feet, but this, of a sudden and to my surprise, seemed all the more alluring.

"With even greater pleasure, Sariana." I avowed.

She graced me with one of her dazzling smiles as I left.

**********

And so, our Fridays now always started with our sharing together another sumptuous dinner which I had made. We would talk and often laugh throughout, and the conversations would continue through her foot massage. Besides my meal preparations, I began to also do a number of other small things before she arrived home. I had noticed that her bed was never made, so I started making it. Next to the smaller one with her socks and stockings which were my assigned charge, her larger laundry hamper always seemed full, so I took to adding that to my washing, her delicates with those I already hand washed, and the rest in the washer and drier. I always made sure to fold and put them all away when done. Along with any that I used, I also cleaned and stacked away any other dishes and utensils left behind. And I tried to straighten up any of the rooms that needed it. It was small things that I did, but I had the time for it, as she clearly did not, and I was happy to do so. Some few Fridays after I had commenced these efforts, as we ate dinner together, she looked at me pointedly.