Black Feet Matter Pt. 01

Finally, Monique's toes released my nose, and I felt her coiling my hair around her hand. My head was lifted up, so I was dangling up above her foot as I watched her rest it on the floor. Next, she lowered my head towards her socked foot. "Kiss my foot," she said. "Kiss it just like you demanded I should kiss yours, you uppity bitch."

"Never," I screeched, while feeling helpless, my face hovering above her foot. "I'm not kissing your disgusting foot, skank."

Monique responded by pushing my face down onto the top of her toes, and steering my head back and forth in an attempt to force my lips all over her socked foot. "Come on, pucker those lips, bitch," she said with a laugh. "I wanna hear those lips smacking my foot."

I clamped my lips shut, but even though I wasn't willingly kissing her foot, the humiliation was enough at just being manhandled in such a way. While she ground my face into her sock, my senses became overwhelmed by the intense stink and I was forced to think of Monique working all morning cleaning my house. The way the sweat had pooled in the armpits of her shirt and collected on her forehead. No doubt the same had occurred in her socks, and here I was, having my face rubbed all over it. I'd be devastated if Eric walked through the door during the assault, and that only heightened the absurdity of what was happening.

"Fine," Monique said. She lifted my head back up, then released my hair and I dropped down unexpectantly, my face bouncing on her foot then onto the carpet.

It was at this moment I realised I was in complete fear of Monique because I'd pushed her too far. All of the protection that beauty, wealth and status offered had gone. She no longer cared about any repercussions and therefore she'd strode straight through the social barrier that had been shielding me so well.

She was bigger and stronger than me, and I could see by the determination and grit within her glare that she was fully intent on making me suffer for my past transgressions against her.

While I lay there, I saw Monique removing her sock, before her bare foot was revealed. Her toes were painted with a chipped-red polish and appeared in dire need of a pedicure. I knew what was coming, but still, I was exhausted from her attack and the humiliation of actually sniffing her foot. As she knelt down next to me, I let out a mere whimper before she stuffed that stinking sock into my mouth. She then burst out laughing as I tasted the disgusting, sweaty flavour for the first time. "Put a sock in it," she cackled to herself. "Maybe this is the best way to shut you up."

She held a hand over my mouth so I was unable to spit it out, and while doing so, she fidgeted with the sneaker and sock of her other foot. Seconds later, the hand was removed and a second sock was forced into my mouth. "Put another sock in it," she said, again, that cackled laughter followed. She then set back and looked at me with a smirk on her face. I tried to say something in response, but having my mouth filled with sweaty socks muffled the words, which only brought further laughs from her. "Much better," she said while patting my head. "Now I don't have to listen to your taunts and insults."