Graded and Served Ch. 01

Cristina sits down on a chair by the table, with me scrubbing right before her feet. I don't dare look up. She's clearly drilled into me that I'm supposed to look down whenever in her presence, and right now, it feels so natural...

As always, one of the boots rests down on my outstretched hand, pinning it to the floor. I squirm a little, but promptly complete my side of the ritual -- I lean forward, placing tiny, unassuming pecks of affection and worship all over the boot that's squishing my hand.

"That's a good boy," Cristina says, and the words send a shiver of pleasure through me. To me she looks and sounds so radiant and splendid, superior in every way.

"How has your day been?"

"Good, Mistress Cristina," I answer in between kisses. "I've done all the chores."

"Good! I knew you'd make suitable slave material when I took you on."

Uncertainty creeps into my voice at the word... it resonates so profoundly within me, ringing both so true and so wrong to my ears. It's not what I'm supposed to be! I'm just a roomie who contributes to the rent by doing the chores!

But then, why am I worshipfully kissing her boots?

I gulp, my mouth suddenly dry. "S-slave?"

"Shut up and lick my boots," Cristina says, her voice almost bored, like any objection on my end is some annoying holdup she can brush aside without effort. "Polish them like you do my floors, while I tell you how things are going to be."

I whimper like a puppy under the cutting disrespect oozing from her words. She doesn't see me as anything other than a bootlicker. But every time I entertain the thought of disobeying, it's like her mouth is back to my ears, whispering incessantly... whispering of promises and threats, of pleasure and pain.

I start lapping at her left boot like they're ice cream. I do it with such vigour that the flap every time my tongue performs its duty is loud as a gunshot. In its wake, the saliva makes the black boot look so shiny, I can almost see my reflection in it.

That almost makes me proud.

"We're progressing to full-on slavery now," Cristina says, with a matter-of-fact tone she might use to tell me it's raining outside. "Why should I have to lift a finger when I have someone like you to do it for me?"

It makes sense. I hate admitting it, but it's true. I feel so inferior to her, I have no choice but to openly acknowledge her superiority. She's pretty much taken the dominant role in our friendship and there's no going back.

I can't answer, not while busy licking her boots. But she doesn't mind.

"You know, I always thought of gender roles as outdated, but in a twisted way I'm starting to see the appeal. We need to get you some proper garments... maid."

The sound that escapes my sound is closer to a girl's moan than to even a whimper. God, I sound like I'm being fucked. When did I get this pathetic?

In my peripheral vision, I'm aware of Cristina sliding her foot right out of the other boot. I wince -- she's not wearing socks! The sweaty scent hits me from here. I redouble my efforts on the boot -- at least the leather smells neutral.

But Cristina isn't interested in my preferences.

Her naked foot slaps me -- strong enough to send me careening to the floor. In the bare moment that her sole touches my cheek, the clammy sweat immediately clings to me. It feels like I must have a footprint of sweat stamped right into my cheek.

Cristina's naked foot descends on my face. She grips my nose between her toes, twisting hard, laughing as tears fill my eyes at the scent. It's pungent and it invades my nostrils, which my fetishist brain loves, even as my rational mind tries to tell me that it's disgusting.

Shortly thereafter, I feel pressure against my lips.

It's the heel of Cristina's boot.

This final humiliation makes my spine writhe like a maggot's. She wants to facefuck me with the heel of her boot! And it's only a matter of time before I acquiesce. With her naked toes dominating my nose, it's only a matter of time before I have to breathe through my mouth.

"Suck", she says, and it's one simple command, so confidently spoken, so authoritatively given, that it makes my cock jump to full hardness. It's a complete reversal of what anyone would think might happen between two straight roommates of different genders.

She's asking me for a blowjob.

Eventually, defeated, my lips part. They spread open like a blooming flower, and Cristina's heel plunges right past my teeth, sliding over my tongue, and down towards my throat. Meanwhile, her sweaty toes keep mastering my nose, the scent by now driving me completely harmless and stupid.

"Oh Marcos, if only I'd known from the start that you'd make such a perfect slave," Cristina says as the heel begins descending up and down, fucking my slutty mouth. "All those years, wasted pretending that you were my equal... such a silly notion. Well, I suppose we'll just have to make up for lost time."

I moan around the heel, giving my best impression of the slutty serving girl she's slowly moulding me into.

"All you'll ever be good for is do my chores, lick my boots, and follow my every command. If I hadn't put you in your place, then some other girl would have. Just be glad that it was me, a friend that you can trust. Thank me."

And just like that, the heel slides out of my mouth. I look up at her through a haze of tears, confused, especially with her toes still clamping my nose shut.

She wants me to thank her?

Cristina looks at me like I'm too stupid to count two plus two, and to be honest she's probably right.

"Thank me for putting you in my place," she repeats, slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Thank me for enslaving you."

"Thank you, Mistress! I'm so lucky!" I say, meaning every word -- even though, with my nose shut in between her toes, the words come out high-pitched and ridiculous. Cristina must find that endlessly amusing -- she snorts, then breaks out in hysterical laughter.

"Alright," she says, as her boot descends back towards my mouth. "That was nice, but you're at your best when you don't talk, and I know exactly how to shut you up. Get your mouth where it belongs, bitch."

And I do, distending my face and sealing my lips into a little o around the heel, like the girls I've seen in porn when they give blowjobs. I slobber and gag and gurgle as I let her boot facefuck me.

I really am so lucky.

Were it not for Cristina's crushing victory over me, who knows what I would have done with my life. This outcome confirms what I've always known on some level, I suppose.

Competition truly is healthy.