Podcast with a Dominatrix Pt. 04

I woke up with a strange tightness in my chest. The shame from last night hadn't left. It lingered like a scent on my skin. My face still remembered the feel of her sole pressing against it, the slight stickiness of sweat, the soft curve of her arch. The way I breathed in those feet.

What's worse was how my body had reacted. The warmth that spread between my legs. The way my breath had quickened. I didn't want to admit it even to myself. That I liked it. That i liked the whole act. That her feet casual, unbothered had made something inside me light up.

It terrified me. Was I one of those freaks in the comment sections? The ones who wrote things like "Queen, please smother me" and "Let me be your footrest." The thought made my stomach twist.

But the thought of doing it again... That was worse. Because it didn't make me sick. It made me curious. It gave me burtterflies.

I shook it off and got out of bed. Did my usual stretches, trying to distract myself, trying to feel normal. I made breakfast oats for us and black coffee for her. The usual I make.

Amira was still doing yoga, her body long and graceful in the morning light. She moved with ease, her sports bra clinging to her, sweat glistening on her skin. I pretended not to watch. But I did. Her feet were flexing against the mat. Her long, toned, slightly red soles from the pressure.

She always asked me to take photos after her workout. Just her feet with different angles, different filters. Her OnlyFans page had a small but loyal audience, and they love the raw, no makeup foot content she makes, at times with me as her slave.

"Lora," she called without looking up.

I turned quickly, a little too quickly. I needed to stop reacting like that.

She wiped her forehead with a towel and said casually, "Since yesterday, people have been asking for videos of you serving me. Like, actually serving me. They really liked the little clip you let me post. Are you down to do another one?"

I paused.

Of course I wanted to. I was looking forward to it, a little too much but I couldn't let her know that.

I shook my head. "I already did one yesterday," I said flatly, trying to sound bored.

"Please," she said, pouting slightly. "It'll bring us a lot of followers."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine." I tried to make it sound reluctant. Like it was a favor. Like I wasn't already picturing the heat of her sole against my cheek again.

She grinned. That excited spark in her eyes again, the one she gets when she's about to try something new.

"Let's make this one more interesting," she said. "While I'm doing yoga, I'll introduce myself and you'll just... be there. Like my servant. My little sub or something like that. Just to make it look realistic."

I swallowed. My throat was dry.

Realistic.

She positioned herself in the center of the mat, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her thighs were slick with sweat. Her feet a little red at the heel, slightly shiny were right in front of me. She motioned for me to sit beside them.

"Okay, starting in 3... 2... 1... start."

Her voice changed slightly. Smoother, more confident.

"Hi, fans," she said, beaming into the phone. "Good to see you."

She arched her back, subtly showing off her figure. "I'm here to show you my morning routine. I've been doing yoga for an hour now. It's a bright, sunny day... and Lora's here, smelling my feet."

She looked down at me and gave me a light kick.

I hesitated just a second and then leaned forward, pressing my face into her sole. The smell was stronger today. A bit salty. I tried not to breathe in, but I did. And when I did, something in me trembled.

I rubbed my cheek along her arch, letting her foot rest across my face. I didn't dare look up at her.

"See?" she said, her tone light, amused. "She's enjoying serving, aren't you?"

I froze.

My instinct was to pull back say no, joke it off. But instead, she gave me another light tap with her toes.

I nodded. Slowly. Like it meant nothing. Like it wasn't costing me everything.

"Great." She smiled into the camera.

I immediately pulled away, trying to act casual. I couldn't let her see how my hands were trembling, or how my body was reacting beneath my clothes.

Because if she ever knew the truth that I wanted to be beneath her. That I liked it. She would never see me the same way again.

And worse, maybe she already did.

We had just finished breakfast when Amira casually mentioned, "Sofia's coming tomorrow. Just for a day or two." It wasn't the first time Sofia would be staying over. She had visited plenty of times before. But back then, things were... different.

Now, our dynamics have completely shifted. I serve Amira all day from cooking to cleaning. And then there's my online alter ego, the anonymous submissive who kisses and sniffs her feet on camera. I'm terrified Sofia might see even a glimpse of that side of me.

She's probably two or three years younger than us and smarter, prettier and effortlessly charming as well. She has this quiet resentment towards me, as if I've stolen Amira's attention. To her, Amira isn't just a sister, she's a role model, almost a benchmark for success now that the podcast and OnlyFans are taking off. But she also respects me a little for being with her sister, probably till now.

And I also find myself liking her. She's sharp, curious and emotionally neglected like I was growing up. There's a weird empathy I carry for her.

While I returned to dusting the shelves, Amira was busy uploading her latest video. She watched me work, smiling.

"What?" I asked.

"You didn't even wipe my foot sweat off your face before eating breakfast," she said casually, still grinning.

I froze. Embarrassment hit me like a wave.

"what the fuck, Amira!" I tried to sound grossed out, quickly walking to the sink to wash my face.

She burst out laughing, a deep, uninhibited laugh.

At least she doesn't know how much I liked it... how much I crave that smell.

"Put my phone on charge," she said while lounging on the couch. Her casual commands have started feeling more authoritative. Every day, her dominance inches closer to something undeniable. And my submission, it's teetering on the edge of being discovered. I need to be more careful.

Evening came. She went for her walk. The only real downtime I get. But lately, I've started looking forward to it for... other reasons.

After her runs, she often comes back sweaty and playful, tossing her drenched socks onto my face as a joke or maybe not a joke. I wanted her to do it again and I remain in my bed pretending to sleep, only to have her socks on my face. It has become a kind of ritual.

So I lay down and pretended to sleep, heart pounding in anticipation.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. There's no sign of her.

And then finally the soft creak of my door opening.

My breath caught in my throat. I kept my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

I felt the sole of her bare foot press against my cheek. It was damp, a little warm, sharp with the smell of sweat. The scent hit me like a drug, sour and overwhelming and I didn't pull away.

Then I heard it. Click a photo.

She switched feet. The same thing, press, scent, click. My heart was racing. I couldn't tell what turned me on more, the contact or the idea of being captured like this or the fact that she didn't even ask. I felt my face a little wet with the sweat and the smell was too strong, stronger than her socks.

And then came the socks. She rubbed them all over my face, the thick, sour scent wrapping around me like a fog.

Was she trying to addict me to her smell? Was there a bigger plan? To turn me into something deeper than just a submissive or to make me crave her feet like a need?

She left the room. Her socks still on my face.

I slipped one into my mouth and gagged myself with it. I don't know why. Something inside me had shifted. The taste was harsh salty and sour but I didn't stop.

I'm changing. Day by day, I'm sinking deeper.

My eyes remained closed, still gagged. I slid my hand into my panties and then suddenly heard the door creak again. My heart nearly stopped.

I opened my eyes but nobody was there. Just silence.

Later, while preparing dinner, Amira came into the kitchen and showed me her phone.

Onscreen was a photo of her foot on my face, posted on OnlyFans. It was already viral.

"What the fuck, Amira?" I said, trying to sound angry, trying not to let her see how turned on I actually was.

"Look at the likes," she said, smiling. "And the new subscriptions."

"Yes, but you should've asked me first," I said, keeping my tone sharp.

"Sorry," she said, still smiling. "I will next time."

And yet, as she walked away like it meant nothing, something twisted deliciously inside me.

I'm really excited about the next morning and I don't know, a part of me wants to do it in front of her sister. Is that so fucked up? Has my fantasy reached that level? I want both of them to humiliate me with their feet. It's so fucking weird.

The next morning, I'm cleaning the house. Amira went out to pick up her sister, Sofia. She's been to our place plenty of times before, but I've never cleaned the house just for her. This whole giving, attentive, service-oriented behavior, it's so new to me.

They came back after having breakfast outside. Amira was in her yoga gym wear, and Sofia was dressed casually, top, pants, and white sneakers. She's prettier than Amira. I don't know... there's something in Sofia's eyes that feels different now. She's looking at me differently.

"Hi, Lora," Sofia said.

"Hi. Good to see you after a long time," I smiled.

"Hey, can you make a cold coffee? The weather outside is fucking hot," Amira said casually.

"Of course."

They exchanged a glance and smiled. It was pretty obvious, she was trying to assert her authority in front of her sister.

I made them cold coffees and served them.

"Pass the remote too," Amira added.

I did. Again, that look between them smiling. Almost like I was some joke they were both in on.

They sat on the couch, watching TV. Then Amira asked, "Hey, is there something to eat in the fridge?"

"Let me check."

A part of me wanted to do things for her. Not just because she asked, but because of the way it made me feel useful, quiet, watched. I was starting to crave that feeling.

And then there was Sofia. The way she looked at me a little confused at first, almost amused. It sent a strange thrill through me. Like she was trying to figure me out. I saw it in her eyes when I jumped to obey Amira's softest commands. She was shocked to see but also curious.

"There's nothing. I can cook something for you guys," I offered, too quickly.

Amira didn't miss it.

"Yes! What do you want, Sofia?" she asked, a playful smirk tugging at her lips, sarcasm threading lightly through her voice.

"Sandwiches would be good," Sofia replied, hesitant, like she wasn't sure if she was part of the game yet.

I made them without a word. No one asked me to.

I spent the whole afternoon serving them both. Making small trips from the kitchen to the living room. At first it was Amira. Then slowly, Sofia began slipping into it too. A "Can you pass me the sauce?" here. A "Get some napkins?" there.

They didn't say anything. But I could feel it. A little shift.

Sofia had started to see me differently, not fully understanding what she was stepping into, but playing along anyway.

She was testing me, observing and giving small orders just to see if I'd listen.

And I did. Every time.

Later, I was resting in my room after all the work. Amira came in, looking a bit hurried.

"I haven't posted anything on OnlyFans today," she said. "A big part of success in this line of work is consistency."

Butterflies stirred in my stomach. What would she post now?

"I was thinking of posting a photo like yesterday... people really liked it," she said.

"Not again," I replied, trying to sound disinterested. "I've only just come to terms with the whole smelling thing..."

"I know this is a lot. But it's the career we've chosen," she said, she seemed in a bit of a hurry. "Better be fast... or else Sofia might come looking for me and you'll have to do it in front of her."

A chill passed through me. The idea scared and embarrassed me. Doing it in front of Sofia? I wasn't sure I was ready for that.

Still, I agreed.

She told me to lie down on the bed. I lay down there.. she came in quietly and without a word, climbed onto the bed and then onto me. She sat on my belly. Literally sat on me. Not like she was hovering politely or testing boundaries. Her full weight sank down, her body settling with the kind of casual authority that made my breath catch. She didn't ask. She didn't need to.

And then... without warning, she lifted both her feet and placed them squarely on my face.

It was overwhelming. Skin against skin. The scent of her sweat from the day still clinging to her soles. A humid, almost intoxicating heat. I closed my eyes and breathed in like it was something sacred.

And then click.

I heard it. The camera shutter on her phone. Not once. Not twice. She took at least ten photos, maybe more. From different angles, adjusting her legs to capture the way my face was completely swallowed by her feet. I didn't move. I couldn't.

The pressure of her sitting on my stomach, steady and unrelenting, did strange things to me. It made me feel both trapped and cared for. It made me feel small. Like this was exactly where I belonged. My body flushed with confusion and desire. How had I become so submissive?

Had it always been inside me, waiting for someone like her to draw it out?

"Thank you," she said finally, her voice soft but deliberate.

Still seated firmly on me, she stretched slightly, exhaled, and murmured, "Ah... this feels great."

She looked down at me with no amusement and hesitation now. Just calm, quiet ownership. As if this wasn't new to her. As if I was the one who had just caught up.

And I stayed there. Under her. Breathing her in. Feeling the strange and thrilling truth of what I'd become.

Then she stood up.

"But gotta go," she added, and left.

Evening brought with it the quiet itch of anticipation of our ritual. The ritual of a private humiliation where Amira would come home after her run, damp socks clinging to her ankles, and press them against my face while I pretended to be asleep. She never said a word while doing it, never acknowledged it. But she did it. Repeatedly. And I let her.

But tonight was different. This time, both of them had gone out Amira and Sofia.

I lay curled on the bed, face to the wall, limbs loose but heart racing. I imagined the shape of her foot, the scratch of the sock fabric, the sour trace of sweat. I hated how badly I wanted it. I hated how it made me feel like an animal, like something beneath language. Like a puppet whose strings she pulled whenever she liked.

But she wouldn't do it in front of Sofia. No way. She had been hesitant even during our last OnlyFans shoot, pulling back when Sofia walked into the frame by accident. That's not something you do in front of your sister.

Still, I waited.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. My phone screen blinked.. they'd been gone nearly ninety. I had started to believe she wasn't going to come at all. Maybe she forgot, maybe she changed her mind

And then, the front door creaked open.

There were soft footsteps.

I turned slightly, careful not to move too fast, and closed my eyes. Pretending to sleep had become second nature by now something almost meditative. The trick was to keep my breaths even but not too even, relaxed but not limp. It had taken practice. Shamefully, I had practiced. I had to.

And then the scent hit me first.

That damp cotton musk. Salted skin. The faint but distinct note of city dust clinging to her from the run. It hit somewhere behind my eyes, short-circuiting thought.

Then came her nearness. That quiet weight in the air when someone is just above you. Watching me.

And then I felt it.

Her sock still warm, still damp brushed my cheek, then pressed lightly against my face.

My eyes stung partly from the sour smell, partly from something else. A rush so sharp and humiliating I couldn't name it properly. Shame or maybe Lust.

It was pathetic but It was perfect.

The shiver it sent down my body was precise, like someone dragging a single fingertip along my spine. It pulled me back into myself. Centered me in my skin.

Then I heard

"What the fuck are you doing?"

It was sofia's voice. A sharp whisper, more like she was startled.

My blood turned to ice. My stomach twisted like I was falling from a great height.

Why was she doing this in front of Sofia?

Amira didn't say anything. She didn't even flinch.

Instead, her hand came down across my face, steady and firm. She pressed the sock harder against my mouth, cupping her palm over my nose. I gasped, my breath catching in my chest. I couldn't move.

I didn't know if I wanted to move.

Then came a sound

A giggle.

"do with your socks," Amira said, her voice low and casual.

"You're so mean," Sofia replied, half-gasping through her laughter.

And then another sock pressed against my cheek. They were smaller, lighter, softer and damp. It was Sofia's.

Amira guided her gently. "Rub it a little... down."

And she did.

I felt the rough cotton of Sofia's sock scratch across my lips as she dragged it, slowly and unsure, over the curve of my mouth.

"Ew," she whispered, almost to herself.

The whole thing felt... unreal. Like I was watching it from outside myself. A scene from someone else's dream.

But it was happening.

Amira let it happen. Was letting Sofia join. Was guiding her.

"She'll wake up," Sofia whispered. A tiny tremor in her voice now.

"She won't," Amira said smoothly. Almost proudly. "She sleeps like a baby."

But I didn't. I hadn't.

She knew. I was sure of it now. She had to know this was all a performance. That I wasn't asleep at all.

Maybe this was a test or a punishment. Her way of calling my bluff. A silent revenge for something.

She must have seen me yesterday how I had gagged myself with her sock the moment I thought no one was watching. She must have.

Sofia laughed again, but it was thinner this time. Nervous. "This feels so wrong."

And then Amira moved.

She slid one bare foot out of her sock and pressed her toe cool, damp, intimate right onto my lips.

Not in a rush. But firmly. Deliberately.

"She has such soft lips," Amira murmured. She sounded like she was talking about a new pair of shoes. She pressed her toe in a little more, testing the texture of my skin.

"Ew." Sofia wrinkled her nose again, but there was no real protest behind it.

"Wanna try?"

There was a pause. I felt it more than I heard it. A shift in the air.

And then Sofia's foot touched my cheek bare this time.

Then her toe pressed against my mouth.

Not just resting there. Pushing, trying to slip inside.

I flinched.

I had to else it would be crystal clear that I was pretending.

They paused.

"Okay, that's enough," Amira said, quickly.

"Yeah," Sofia replied, her voice tinged with something I couldn't place. Disbelief and Excitement

"We'll save something for the podcast," Sofia added.

I nearly gasped.

The podcast?

Amira's voice was lower now, almost unreadable. "Let's talk outside."

Their footsteps retreated.

I lay there, face hot, heart thudding like I had just run ten miles barefoot myself. They knew or at least Amira did that I was pretending. That much was clear therefore she didn't talk in front of me. This wasn't an accident. This was staged, designed.

And they were talking about the podcast.

What did that mean?

What were they planning?

What was I becoming?

I didn't have answers. Just the fading scent of feet on my lips, the chill of the room, and the bitter thrill still pulsing through my veins.