At Her Feet Ch. 02

In the bedroom, Lacey curled under the covers, heart still fluttering, legs aching with a tension she didn't quite understand. Her skin was flushed, her breath uneven, as if she'd just sprinted up the stairs instead of walked.

She lay on her side, hands tucked under her cheek, eyes staring into the darkness, but the world behind her closed eyelids was blindingly bright.

Did that just happen?

She bit her bottom lip hard, feeling the sting. Natalie's feet had been in her lap. Not once, not briefly-but for the whole tv episode. Her beautiful, perfect, soft soles. The faint scent of lotion and leather. The little pink toes she'd admired too many times in secret.

And then Natalie had told her to touch them. Had given her permission. No, more than that. She offered. Teased. Toyed with her. And Lacey had said yes.

Her cheeks burned just remembering it.

Every detail swam in her mind like a fever dream; the warm pressure of Natalie's arches against her thigh, the way her toes flexed slightly at her touch, the almost imperceptible sigh she'd made halfway through the massage. The way her yoga pants had clung to her toned legs. The way she smirked when she called her weirdo.

The nickname alone made Lacey shiver.

She shifted under the blankets, thighs pressing together instinctively. She was soaked.

The problem wasn't just that she was aroused. She'd been aroused before, plenty of times. But this was deeper. Realer. Arousal from the core of her being, not just her pussy. It coiled around her like a leash, wrapping tighter every time she thought of Natalie's voice, her feet, her smile.

She hadn't expected to feel like this. Not just turned on but obedient. Compliant. She wanted to kneel. She wanted to see her smile.

Maybe even serve.

It scared her a little. It thrilled her more.

She sat up with a frustrated groan and reached to grab her laptop. She needed a distraction, maybe some mindless code review to pull her out of her own head. But her fingers fumbled against the empty nightstand.

Her laptop wasn't there.

Confused, she scanned the room. It wasn't on the floor, or by her bed. A flicker of unease bloomed in her chest. Then she remembered.

She'd left it on the kitchen counter.

And it had been open.

"No no no no-"

She scrambled out of bed, heart pounding, and ran out into the hallway in her oversized sleep shirt. The apartment was silent except for the low creak of the floorboards under her bare feet. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and froze.

There it was.

Sitting innocently on the counter. Still open. Still lit.

She approached it like it might explode.

Her stomach dropped.

The website was still up, MousePadFeet, and open to her comment thread. Her username was visible. Her replies. Her fantasies. Right there, glowing in the dim kitchen light like a neon confession.

She gripped the counter with both hands, breath short, vision narrowing.

Natalie had seen this.

She must've seen it. She had come home before Lacey that day. Her laptop had been right there. Lacey hadn't closed the browser, hadn't even shut the lid. It was the only explanation.

Natalie knew.

And yet she had still offered her feet. Still teased her. Still let her touch them. Still smiled. Still called her weirdo with that voice that melted her bones.

Was that teasing? Curiosity? Pity? Or something else?

Lacey didn't know whether to cry or scream. Her body was trembling. Her pussy throbbed from the memory, from the embarrassment, from the insane cocktail of shame and thrill and the hint of something impossible.

She knows.

And maybe... she's okay with it.

She snapped the laptop shut and hugged it to her chest, breathing hard. Her mind was a tangle of desperation, humiliation, and something warm and dizzying.

She returned to bed, tossed the laptop on the floor, and curled into a trembling ball under the sheets. Her pillow smelled faintly of shampoo and tears. She pressed her thighs together, trying to will the aching heat away, but it only pulsed harder.

She didn't touch herself.

She couldn't. For now.

The next morning, Lacey forced herself into a new routine. Brushed her teeth. Pulled her hair into a neat bun. Made eggs she didn't eat. Logged into work and stared at Jira tickets she couldn't process.

She heard Natalie's footsteps descend the stairs and nearly jumped.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Natalie said, casual as ever, sipping from her floral mug.

"Morning," Lacey said too fast. She didn't look up.

She felt Natalie glance at her, then walk past toward the laundry area. Barefoot, of course. Lacey could see the curve of her heel, the arch of her sole, the flex of her toes as she moved across the wooden floor.

Don't stare. Don't stare. Don't stare.

Her mouth went dry. She pretended to be deeply fascinated by her screen.

Work was impossible. Every time she tried to focus, she saw toes. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard but typed nothing. Her cursor blinked at her like it knew.

She wanted to crawl under the table and kiss Natalie's feet.

She closed her laptop at 4:00. She couldn't take it anymore.

That evening, the tension swirled tighter. Natalie returned from work at her fashion house, heels clicking down the hallway as if to mock her.

She looked radiant.

Her loose blouse tucked into wide-legged linen pants, her braid unraveling from the day, her feet bare and slightly red from a day spent in stilettos.

Lacey's eyes clung to them.

Natalie noticed, but said nothing.

They made dinner together-stir fry and jasmine rice-and sat on the couch with wine glasses, watching some trashy dating show. Lacey barely tasted her food. Her heart pounded in her chest so loud it was hard to hear the television.

She swallowed twice. Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

"Hey..." she whispered.

Natalie turned to her, smiling. "Yeah?"

"Is it... okay if..." Lacey's voice shrank to a whisper. "If I touch your feet again?"

The pause was excruciating.

Then Natalie's smile widened. Slowly. Wickedly.

"Hm. I don't know." She raised an eyebrow. "You seemed pretty into it last night. Might be dangerous."

Lacey's face flamed red. "I-sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I'm teasing," Natalie said with a soft laugh, leaning back. She lifted both legs and let them flop lazily into Lacey's lap. "Knock yourself out, weirdo."

Lacey's breath caught.

Her hands shook as she reached out.

And then they made contact.

Warm. Smooth. Still faintly scented from the lotion Natalie used. Lacey cradled her friend's feet in her lap like sacred relics, her fingertips tracing the gentle swell of the arch, the pads of her toes, the delicate veins beneath the surface.

A bolt of pleasure pulsed through her core. She was already wet.

With slow meticulous care, she began to massage. Thumb circling the ball of the foot. Knuckle pressing into the sole. Every movement deliberate, loving, almost devotional.

Natalie let out a pleased hum, head tilting back, eyes fluttering closed.

"God, you're good at this," she murmured.

Lacey's heart soared. Her pussy throbbed.

She worked deeper, using her whole palm, switching between feet with careful attention, as if trying to memorize them with touch. Her eyes flicked up now and then-Natalie's lashes were long, her chest rising and falling softly.

And her nipples... slightly visible through her loose white tank.

Lacey swallowed hard.

She wanted to kiss them.

She wanted to worship them.

But most of all, she wanted to bury her face into Natalie's feet and never come up.

Her hands trembled with restraint. Her thighs pressed together tightly, her whole body vibrating with hunger. She rubbed slow circles into Natalie's instep, watching her sigh and squirm slightly.

She wanted to moan.

She nearly did.

But she kept it in.

Barely.

The show ended.

Lacey didn't move.

Natalie did.

She withdrew her feet, flexing them playfully. Then, with a sly grin, she used one foot to gently pat the top of Lacey's head.

"Thanks for the massage, weirdo," she said, voice rich and honey-smooth.

Lacey's brain melted. Her mouth parted, but no words came out.

Natalie got up and walked off, hips swaying, braid bouncing.

Lacey stared after her, stunned and throbbing.

She sat there for a long time, hands still resting where Natalie's feet had been. Her lap was warm. Her panties were drenched. Her heart was nowhere to be found.

She had never felt so alive.

And she already knew what she'd be doing tonight, once the lights were out and the door was closed.

Alone, panting into her pillow.

Imagining the weight of Natalie's soles pressing into her face.