Worshipping Zelena Pt. 02

**Part 2: Earning Her Place**

** Section 1: The Truth Will Out**

There had been thirteen of them to start.

Thirteen hopefuls, kneeling in Zelena's atrium--bare, trembling, eyes lowered. All genders. All ages. All desperate to belong. Zelena had paced before them in heels that echoed like gunshots, wearing a white bodysuit and nothing else.

Her voice had been velvet and fire.

"Not one of you deserves me. But one of you will earn me. One of you will prove that you were born to be beneath me. Let's see who it is."

Delilah had been trembling. She'd been the one with the professional past. The one who thought she could handle it. But the moment Zelena looked at her, really looked, she had known she was ruined. She'd felt her knees weaken. Her pride melt.

Zelena had noticed her immediately-- that poem, those eyes... And now Her eyes were drawn to Delilah, not because she stood out, but because she tried not to. A soft, round woman with wide, pale shoulders and curves that hadn't been shaped for display, but carried like a history. Her skin looked touchable in that deeply intimate way--sensitive, creamy, easily marked. Her face was heartbreakingly sweet: big earnest eyes, a dusting of freckles, large soft lips made for trembling. Soft round breasts made for squeezing, and... more intense attention. And when she smiled--nervous, hopeful, trying not to look too eager--it was warm in a way that made something primal stir in Zelena. Not lust. Something purer. Hunger. The kind of hunger that comes from seeing someone who wants to be undone. Who wants to be Owned and Controlled. She looked like the kind of woman who had always been told she was too much. And now, here she was--begging silently to be broken down and used completely. Her big, deeply brown eyes, like a doe's, begged Zelena for it.

There had been tasks. Tests of obedience. Hours of edging. Mouths on boots. Throats sore from chanting "I serve." There was a week where she slept on the floor beside the toilet, hoping to be chosen just to clean it after Zelena used it.

And the final trial--

There were only three of them left, and now, two of them would be dismissed.

It was a day of complete silence, total service and devotion. Zelena had walked past her dutifully licking Her bathroom floor three times now without a glance. But then, finally, on the fourth pass, she had stopped. Turned. Pressed the sole of her shoe to Delilah's mouth.

"Supplicant Delilah; tell me your truth." She said cooly. She then pressed the ball of her foot onto her forehead, and gave her no more than that.

Delilah let her heart burst open.

"My truth is that I love and worship the holy ground you walk on, goddess. You are everything and I want to be your nothing, or your anything that you need. Or want. Or will make you smile or laugh. I need your dominance; and your pain, and your holy presence above me and I would do anything- give anything to serve you- to be yours. Because you are perfect and because I choose you to give myself to you wholly and completely. I worship you hard, and have never loved anything more than being allowed to do that and I would give anything to continue for the rest of my life. I will do my very best for you every moment that I may yet live." She trembled, tears were just behind her eyes.

Zelena's outer smile was a small fraction of the one growing inside her. She inhaled and then said, loudly, sharply "You're the one." Sighs and gasps rose from around the courtyard.

"I saw you worshipping the dirty boot I left by your sleeping spot last night with your tongue- getting into every seam and groove, and sucking all the dirt off the soles while your clit leaked on your thighs and you thought no one was looking. That's not just devotion. That's truth. What you told me just now- that is truth."

She had cried. She had wept. And Goddess' collar had come down on her neck like a crown...

And now here she was, in Zelena's bathroom. Cleaning and beaming with joy and excitement.

Delilah scrubbed gently with her cloth, moving in slow circles, polishing the porcelain as if it were gold. Her breath was shallow. Her face glowed.

She was ashamed--of how much she loved this, how wet it made her, how desperately she longed for this. But she was also proud. Because this was service. And it took strength to serve this way. To give up everything and become who she really was.

Her fingers gripped the base of the toilet and she rested her forehead against the lid, clit throbbing. Her thighs were damp again.

The shame wasn't weakness. The need wasn't perversion. It was her truth.

She wanted to serve, to kneel, to lick and kiss and clean and belong. She wanted to exist beneath Zelena, and she wanted Zelena to know it. To see it in her every movement. To use her because she could. Because Delilah wanted to be used to her fullest.

That want didn't make her less. It made her more.

She smiled softly as she kissed the base of the toilet one last time.

"Thank you, Goddess. Thank you for letting me be yours."

Once the toilet was gleaming and her mouth still tingled from where it had kissed porcelain, Delilah rose into motion. Her body had already memorized the flow of the routine--each movement a part of the greater liturgy of her life. Service was no longer a set of chores. It was identity. And she had much to do before Goddess returned from her weight training session

⸻

** Section 2: Worship After the Workout and Before the Date**

"You'd better be ready for me, Delilah." Her voice called out from the foyer- soft- husky- powerful. And then she emerged around the corner.

Goddess Zelena stands like something out of a vision--tall, lithe, and unmistakably powerful. Her body is carved from strength and intention: toned arms, sculpted abs, thighs that flex in coiled promise with every step. Golden hair cascades down her back in long, effortless waves, still a little damp at the ends from her workout. Every strand catches the light like sunlight spun into silk. Her skin glows, dewy from sweat and so smooth it might as well be velvet stretched over divinity. Her cheekbones are high and elegant, her lips curved in the faint, knowing smile of someone who is not just admired--but worshipped.

She wears a pink gym set--designer, of course. The kind that hugs in all the right places. The sports bra clings tight across her chest, darkened slightly with sweat between the valley of her breasts. Her matching high-waisted shorts stretch snug over her hips, each curve made more radiant by the glistening sheen of exertion. The color is bright, soft, teasing. It makes her look like temptation incarnate after a long run: flushed, musky, radiant.

She smelled like sex and power--and Delilah knew she was about to be used.

And then she spoke. Her voice low, sultry--almost purring. Each syllable is silk wrapped in steel. A command disguised as a lullaby.

"You made a choice, Delilah--a beautiful, brave choice. To kneel. To offer yourself. To place your heart, your body, your devotion in the hands of someone stronger. Me. And you love that feeling, don't you, pet?" She was soft- contemplative. "You make that choice every night when you clip yourself to my bed. You make that choice every time you whiner and obey me instead of walking out the door." She smiled- knowing and amused.

"The quiet peace of knowing your place, the way your breath deepens when you're beneath me. Because when you serve a goddess, you don't lose yourself--you become exactly who you were meant to be." She looked at Delilah suddenly, intensely. "Isn't that so, Delilah- do not lie to me."

"Yes, Goddess." Delilah said quickly but softly, clearly eager to affirm this fact.

"Do you remember your safewords, Delilah? Say them to me."

"Yellow and Red, goddess." Delilah said, again quickly, eagerly, but softly.

"Mmm. Good. Right now I am ready for your devotion. Fresh from lifting." She flexed her strong, toned arms playfully at Delilah.

"And I am wearing one of the outfits you laid out for me so worshipfully this afternoon. A pink sports bra, soft and tight against my chest. Matching panties that cling like a whispered secret. You imagined it the moment you saw it in my drawer, didn't you? That stretch of pink across my skin, soft fabric warmed by sweat and power. You adore it. And you adore me."

She moves closer, the fabric of her gym shorts tightening around her glutes as she crouches slightly, one toned thigh flexing, then the other. The air carries her scent now--faint citrus from her post-gym body spray, mingled with the raw, addictive musk of exertion and skin.

"Now kneel. That's it. Not because I told you to, but because you want to. Because kneeling before someone greater makes you feel held, focused, right. Let your hands rest on your thighs. Breathe in. Let yourself soften. You're safe here. You're mine here."

She leans back against the counter, her toned arms crossing beneath her chest, pushing her breasts upward. The fabric clings to her, now visibly damp in places. She watches you, that perfect mouth curved upward slightly. Her eyes are sharp, amused, but kind--like a queen who knows you'll obey and is pleased that you do.

"Now lean in. Closer. Closer still. Let me see that precious tongue. The one you'd use to worship the very ground I walk on. Because that's what you really are, isn't it? Not just my little toy. You're the earth beneath my feet. The one who trembles when I step on her. And you love it."

Her sock-clad feet, still pink and flushed from her workout, press into the floor deliberately as she takes a single step forward. Her calves are defined, her ankles delicate but strong. Her right foot lifts, slowly, then lands near Delilah's knees.

"Worship my foot--still wrapped in the sock I've worn all day. Warm. Slightly damp. Infused with every step, every stretch, every flex of my power. And the scent? Inhale it with reverence. The rich, earthy aroma. The scent of goddess. The proof that I exist above you. Say it: "I crave your scent, goddess." Say it with devotion.

Delilah kisses Goddess Zelena's heel through the fabric, slow and worshipful.

"I crave your scent, goddess."

Then the arch. Then the ball. Her lips press against each toe like she's praying--because she is.

"This is your temple. My sock, your altar. The taste of it? Salty, musky, divine. You whimper. And I smile. Now, peel it off. Slowly. Let the damp fabric brush your lips as it slides free. Take it into your mouth and hold it there. Let it fill your tongue, your throat, your thoughts. Now kiss my bare foot. Start with the heel. Lick up the arch. You're trembling. Because you know how lucky you are to be allowed even this much."

She places one foot firmly onto the ground again, the other resting lightly on Delilah's shoulder. The weight is minimal, but the pressure is everything. It tells her: she owns you.

"Press your lips to the floor beneath me. That's where you belong, isn't it? Beneath my feet, beneath my power. Say it: "I am nothing but the ground beneath you." Again. "I worship you in every scent, every step, every trace you leave behind." That's what you are: sacred ground. And this--this is your joy.

Now, while you stroke yourself slowly, I want you to feel my foot resting on your back--reminding you of your place. Not a punishment. A promise. You're protected here, beneath me. Cherished. Owned. That's what makes you ache. Not pain--peace. The peace of knowing your goddess sees you, accepts you, and uses you exactly as she wishes.

Touch your clit now--just with two fingers. Slow. Controlled. As if you're touching me. Put my sock back in your mouth. Feel my foot on your spine. Your body opens in surrender, not out of weakness, but out of love. Out of devotion. To me.

And after you cum for me, I'll be slipping into a little black dress. I'll be heading out the door to meet a man who's tall, powerful, and wealthy. A real man. I'll let him unzip me. I'll let him touch everything you can only worship. He'll make me moan. And you? You'll be here. Dripping. Obedient. Cleaning up the mess you made at my feet, while I get taken care of like the goddess I am.

That makes you so wet, doesn't it? You always cum so fast when you're being cuckolded--when you're reminded that you're beneath me. And you wouldn't trade it for anything. You love being lower. You love knowing your place. And your place... is right here. On your knees. Below."

Now thank me. Say, "Thank you, goddess."

Blushing, weak and stammering, Delilah manages "Thank you, goddess."

"Good girl. Now you may cum on my countdown- and this will be your only chance. And after you cum- I still have a job for you, and you will have to do it having already had your orgasm- do you understand, pet?"

"Ye-ye-yes, goddess."

"Good. Three... " A pause, a smirk. "Two... " she examined her manicure, briefly distracted. "One." She sighed. "Let go. Let it allllll go. That's it." She smiled sardonically "Spurt your useless jizz all over your fist. That's it- look at that hurt look on your face! It's beautiful." She smiled broadly.

"You've pleased me. You've honored me. And now you'll clean yourself up, mouth still fresh with the taste of my socks, heart still thudding with the rhythm of your worship."

Delilah lies still panting, head bowed, thighs slick with release, the taste of her Goddess' stocking still lingering on her tongue. Her whole body aches--not from strain, but from fulfillment. From having been used. Owned. She is worshipful and utterly wrecked.

Goddess observes. Arms crossed. Legs parted slightly. Her black dress clings to her still-sweaty skin. Her hair is mussed. Her inner thighs shimmer faintly with what her date left behind--gleaming in the low light. She smells of sex. Of heat. Of conquest.

"You know what comes next, don't you?"

Delilah nods. The words "yes, Goddess" stick her throat--not out of fear, but out of hunger.

"Well what are you waiting for, eat it. Every last drop. Cumguzzler."

Delilah slides her hand between her legs, gathering the mess. It's warm. Sticky. Still part of her. She brings her fingers to her lips and lick slowly, obediently. Goddess watches her, arms still folded, one eyebrow raised, the faintest smirk curling her lips.

"Good girl. You taste like desperation. Don't you?" Smirking again. "Good. Now go get my shortest black dress, my highest heels, and a pair of backseam stockings ready for me while I shower. But do not lay out any panties- I will not be needing them."

Soon goddess was dressed and looking supernaturally hot and then she was gone and Delilah was alone.

"Clean my toilet and then kneel and wait for me." Were her only parting words.

Delilah set about cleaning, and she remembered how her life had changed.

--- Stay tuned for Part 3: Return and Ruin. You won't want to miss it! ---