Don't Judge the Judge

"What would your husband think if he saw this?" She said while I bobbed upon her big toe with vigour.

At those words I felt a renewed fight to resist; a sort of realisation of the depravity I was allowing to happen. I tried to pull away but Emilia was having none of it. She leant forward, grabbed a handful of my hair and held me securely in place, her toes safely nestled in my mouth. If anything, she only provoked me so she could enjoy suppressing my reluctance. I tried to speak, but she pushed her toes in just a little bit further to silence me. "Shh," she said. "Just suck them like a good girl, you know you want to." Her words were strategically chosen; encouraging and reassuring.

I melted and sucked her toes like a content baby.

She stroked my cheek in approval and parted her knees, leaning in so our faces were close. She knew she'd tamed me once again. "Look me in the eyes while you suck my toes," she urged me, and I did, seeing nothing but satisfaction looking straight back at me. It was tough not to look away in shame, but I held her gaze; Emilia wanted to enjoy this moment to the full, and I was willing to let her.

As I slowly moved my lips back and forth on her toe, maintaining eye contact as ordered, I saw deeper beyond her satisfaction. Those brown eyes looked at me with superiority, and I looked back into them with acceptance. We saw in each other a new understanding between us; that she was above me. I may be her superior in age, experience and wealth, but it was all irrelevant, because here I was sucking her toes. I suckled gently to let her know I understood; she merely smirked in response.

The next day at work I felt a sense of dread as I waited for the court to clear. I'd lay awake in bed next to my husband all night, my face and mouth no doubt reeking of Emilia's foot sweat.

All day Emilia had been flexing her feet in front of me, but she hadn't once mentioned what occurred the night before. Whereas I was nervous and on edge, Emilia seemed at ease. It was as if she did not have a care in the world. Maybe she didn't; she wasn't a foot licker after all. What did she have to be ashamed of?

I felt embarrassment every time I thought about it. Her subjugation of me had been intense and brutal. She'd steam-rolled through any resistance before I'd had the chance to fully understand what had happened and the consequences that may result. A lot of it was blurred in my memory. I'd been so weak and let her humiliate me so much, but it had felt right deep down inside. I was caught in two minds. What was clear was that I'd let this thing go way beyond the levels of acceptability between two people working together, especially with my highly respected position. And the photos, oh the photos. Why had I let her take such pictures of me like that? Of the two of us. She had documented every depth I'd sunk to.

"Emilia. I need to speak with you," I said to her when we were finally alone.

"What is it, Judgey?" She smiled mischievously.

I cringed at her calling me that in public. "Can we be serious for a moment please?"

Her face softened. "Sure, what's up?"

I felt a little more at ease by her reaction. "I'm a bit worried about what you're going to do with those photos. They could be a big problem for me if they got out."

"Relax." Emilia kicked off her shoes and propped her feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankles. Her soles immediately drew me in, their texture so smooth and soft, blemish free with minimal sprinklings of wrinkles. She wiggled her toes seductively. "I'm not going to blackmail you or anything if that's what you're worried about. Look at you, do I really need to?" She waved one of her feet around and giggled as I followed it with my eyes. "I can get you to do whatever I want, whenever I want with these babies anyway. We both know that now."

"Will you show anyone?"

She shrugged. "Probably not, but who knows? Maybe a friend or something, but it won't be anyone that will come back on you. You have my word on that. I'm not a bitch. I just took them for my own enjoyment and the whole thing was a real hoot. As long as you fulfil your pedicure duties and be a good little foot girl for me when I need you; we're good, Judgey."

I blushed at her words, though I felt optimistic that our secret was safe for now.

Emilia took her phone from her handbag and opened the gallery, flicking through the countless humiliating photos she already had of me. I could have snatched it from her and smashed it to pieces, but in all likeliness, she'd backed them up somewhere. She stopped on one photo and held it up to me. "Quite a collection I'm building up of you, huh? This one's my favourite," she said.

The photo in question was one of me on my knees, eyes closed and licking her foot in sheer bliss. Her face was visible alongside me, contorted in laughter while she held me by my hair. Just one look at that and there was no doubt who was the one really in charge around here. I looked away in shame. What would the other judges think if they ever saw that?

"Get your mouth on my feet right now," Emilia suddenly said out of nowhere.

"What? Here?" I asked in shock. I'd come to her to have a frank discussion, and here she was once again, ready to belittle me. Why did I let her get away with it? I looked around the courtroom. It was empty, but still, anyone could walk in and catch us. "Please, not here Emilia."

"Do it."

Refusing didn't seem an option at this stage. Even if she assured me that she wouldn't share the photos, the doubt still existed in my mind. I bent over the desk and wrapped my lips around a couple of her toes. They were awkwardly crammed into my mouth, but I wasn't going for elegance. I just hoped to appease her. The sooner she was satisfied, the sooner my public torment would end.

"Look at me," she said, and once I did, I heard that familiar click of her camera. "Good girl, that was perfect."

She kicked me away just as the janitor pushed his trolley into the courtroom and I pretended I'd dropped something on the floor. I figured that was the end of my humiliation with his interruption, but Emilia's foot appeared on the floor inches from my face. I looked up into those amused brown eyes and saw her mouth the word kiss. I did it quickly, placing a light peck upon the top of her foot, just above her purple toenails before the janitor reached us. Seemingly satisfied, Emilia placed the ball of her foot on my forehead and pushed me away.

"Found it," I lied. I pretended to put something in my pocket and made my way for the exit.

"See you soon, Judgey," Emilia said after me in a raised voice.

I cringed as I passed the janitor, his confused face making me wonder if he'd witnessed every detail.

Days passed without seeing Emilia and her feet. By luck, she wasn't down to sit in a single one of my hearings; the other judges being the lucky ones to enjoy her presence.

By Friday night I was feeling a bit depressed and desperate. On the one hand, I loved Emilia's feet and it was tough to be away from them. Part of me also revelled in the way she treated me with them, but I was a proud woman. It hurt my pride to be such a success in my career, but a wimp when it came to her. I moped around the house when I wasn't at work and in Emilia's presence; a week away from her was a long time. My husband noticed, and we'd argued over my change in attitude. That was how I found myself upset and parked outside Emilia's apartment. I'd hesitated for half an hour about knocking on her door. Eventually I found the courage.

Emilia answered the door wearing nothing but an oversized night-shirt, panties and a pair of slouch socks. She yawned as she leant against the door-frame. "Hey Judgey," she said. "What's up?"

"Could I come in please?"

Emilia rolled her eyes and wandered off into her apartment. I closed the door and followed. She was already sitting on the sofa when I reached her. I dropped to my knees before her. It felt right and appropriate.

"I miss you, Emilia," I whined. "I haven't seen your feet in over a week."

Emilia was surprisingly understanding and candid. She stroked my cheek with her thumb and wiped a tear away. "You're so needy," she said encouragingly.

"I know it's pathetic. I feel like a right loser sometimes, but that's what you and your feet do to me."

"Aww, but you're MY loser."

I was actually a bit taken aback. I thought she'd be reassuring, but instead she only confirmed my fear, but in her own way. "You really think I'm a loser?" I said, aghast. I was on the verge of a flurry of tears again.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. You're useful to me, right? How would my feet be all nice and pretty without you to take care of them? You don't just pay for my pedicures anymore. You're my foot licker now too. You should take pride in that. It's not just anyone that gets to care for these feet."

I sniffled at her words. How tragic I was; a grown woman sobbing on her knees at a young girl's feet. "But, you could ruin me at any moment with all of those photos you have and the things I do for you. I just feel so overwhelmed. It's hard for me to deal with everything I've done. It's so wrong, but I know I can't say no to you. I can't resist your feet at all. Could you delete the photos at least so I feel a bit better? Please, Emilia?"

Emilia rolled her eyes. "Oh, that again. I'm not deleting those photos, so stop going on about them. I like looking at them too much when I'm bored. Just accept they're mine. Even if I did delete them you'd just let me take some more, so what's the point? But I've already told you silly, I'm not going to ruin you or anything. Think about it. Why would I do that? Who's going to look after my feet if I don't have you? I'm intending to have you pay for my pedicures for a very long time. And I like that it's you, a judge at work that does it. You all think you're so high and mighty you see, and you need this to remind you you're not. You know I never even went to college? All of your expensive years of education and you're just my foot licker. The sooner you accept it and work out these little tantrums the better. You can't just show up at my apartment like this desperate and needy. I'm going to have to train you to come only when you're summoned."

Despite the bluntness of her words, I found it hard to disagree with anything she was saying.

Emilia's expression was sincere, and she patted the cushion at her side. "Tell you what, come over here," she said. "I know what you need."

I tentatively sat next to her and watched as she pulled one of her slouch socks from her feet. With one hand placed on the back of my head, she held the sock against my nose. Our eyes met and she nodded her head ever so slightly while pursing her lips. "That's it, breathe in that stink."

My head dropped to rest on her shoulder as she began to delicately stroke my hair. With every breath I felt a little more content and relaxed, my worries seemingly disappearing. "That's a good girl," she cooed. "That's my Judgey. Breathe in the smell of my feet and think about where you belong. You know this feels right, you love that smell, don't you? Don't fight it, take a deep breath." She rubbed the sock against my nose and I breathed loudly at her command.

She gently patted the back of my head and urged me to sniff again and again. Whilst I did, she continued shaping my thinking. "What if everything in your life was just leading you to your true purpose: serving my feet. Without your career, you'd never have met me. So be proud of what you've achieved. That's the real reason you go to work every day now. That's your true responsibility; keeping my feet looking pretty. Don't forget that."

She was good, she knew exactly what to say. With the smell of her stinky stocks clouding my mind, her words were reassuring and just what I needed to hear.

"Tell you what," she said. "I know just what you need right now. You want to lick my feet while I watch my TV show? It starts in a few minutes."

"Yes please, Emilia," I mumbled without meeting her eye.

"Then tomorrow, how about you come to the salon with me and watch me get my pedicure? Then maybe afterwards we can pick out a new pair of shoes for me. Sound good?"

"Yes, Emilia." I sniffled. I knew Emilia's shoe purchaser had just been added to my list of responsibilities.

"Okay, now come take off my other sock," she said, while propping her feet on the footrest. "I'll let you do whatever you want to my feet, okay? You can slobber over them all you want." She smiled.

I began to peel off her other sock, eager to get my first taste of those feet in over a week.

"But first tell me what you are," she demanded.

"I looked up at her and saw that she was filming me with her phone. My shoulders sagged and I accepted my fate. "I'm your foot licker, Emilia," I said while blushing, right into the camera.

"Aww, don't be ashamed," she teased while wiggling her toes. "I'm not judging you, Judgey."

Humiliated, embarrassed and with a face redder than her nail polish, to the sound of Emilia's taunting laughter; I licked her feet like the hopeless foot licker I was.