Mia's Foot Cult Ch. 03

Mia merely smiled, her gaze locked onto the worshipper's face. She could read the desperation in his eyes, the hunger for her touch. It was a hunger she knew well, having fed with her feet similar appetites of others she enslaved.

The desperate desire to taste Mia's feet was a driving force behind their obedient devotion, guiding their tongues with unerring precision. The room hummed with the collective anticipation of Mia's worshippers, their pleas blending seamlessly into a symphony of sultry whispers.

"Mia," a voice broke the quietude, "your feet are sublime." Her gaze shifted toward the speaker, a sultry smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Of course they are," she purred in response.

Mia leaned back in her chair, watching the frenzied activity below with a smug grin. Her feet were the center of attention, the source of their obsession. The thought sent a surge of power coursing through her veins, her heart pounding with triumph.

"You're all mine now," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "No one can ever take you away from my feet."

Her words hung in the air, a promise of eternal ownership. The foot slaves, their faces flush with lust, responded with fervent nods and pleading looks.

"Now stop. Second row." Mia said sternly. All six of the worshippers looked in horror, their treasure -- her divine feet -- being taken away from them. But they had no choice. They had to obey their Goddess.

The second row of Mia's foot worshippers was different then the first: there were 4 girls and only two boys in it. Her pheromones naturally always had stronger effect on men, but she already found out that, despite that fact, women weren't immune to her charms. It's good that second row consisted of mostly girls. She will experiment with that.

One of the girls, Sarah, was tall and athletic. She had a long brown hair and hazel eyes. She was usually popular and outgoing, but now she was nothing more than another one of her mindless foot disciples. She looked at Mia's gorgeous feet, her mouth watering with anticipation.

"Alright, girls. And two boys," Mia said, her voice dripping with dominance. "You know the drill. Three of you will worship my left foot, three of you will worship my right one," Mia instructed her second row. "Let's start the show. Sarah, Alison, Hannah, go to my left foot. Patrick, Sylvia and Mike, you guys go right. And remember: lick hard" commanded Mia, her voice a husky whisper that sent waves of excitement rippling through the second row of foot worshippers.

The four girls and two boys scrambled to comply, their faces flushing with anticipation and lust. Sarah, Alison, and Hannah eagerly positioned themselves around Mia's left foot, their tongues darting out like hungry serpents seeking their prey. With practiced precision, they began to lick and suck at Mia's soles, savoring the faint traces of sweat and scent that clung to her skin.

Sarah, Alison, and Hannah couldn't resist the allure of Mia's left foot, their tongues dueling for the privilege of tasting her divine essence. Their heated competition was fueled by the intoxicating blend of desire and desperation, their actions driven by the primal urge to claim victory in the game of submission.

Patrick, Sylvia, and Mike, meanwhile, competed for the privilege of pleasing Mia's right foot. Patrick, a muscular guy with short blonde hair that always wanted to be Mia's boyfriend, that yesterday asked her to go with him to a party he organized specifically for her, the party that she ruthlessly ignored, desperately sought to prove his worth.

He pushed his tongue past his competitors, diligently working to taste Mia's divine right foot. He didn't mind the challenge; instead, it excited him. He relished the idea of proving that he was worthy of the honor.

"Mia," Patrick breathed with an edge of desperation, "I want to show you how much I appreciate your gift."

Mia merely smirked and wiggled her toes, her gaze never leaving his face. She knew exactly what she was doing, and the effect it had on her slaves. Every movement, every word, every glance -- each calculated to push them further into their state of ecstasy. It was a delicate game she played, one where she controlled every aspect of their existence.

"Mia," the petite girl with short red hair named Sylvia stammered, her voice cracking under the pressure of her infatuation. "Your feet are truly divine."

Mia smiled, her gaze sweeping over the gathered worshippers. She could feel their lustful intentions, their unwavering devotion to her feet. She reveled in the power she held over them, her influence absolute.

Mia watched their expressions, taking note of the raw desire burning in their eyes. How delicious it was to wield such control, to bend these individuals to her will. They were hers now, utterly devoted to her feet. "My dear slaves," She said. "You have been chosen to serve me, to adore my feet with the utmost reverence. Appreciate it."

Her words hung in the air, a testament to her authority. The room was silent, save for the muffled sounds of their tongues lapping at her feet.

Mia watched her foot slaves, enjoying the spectacle of their adoration. She knew they would do anything to please her, to earn her favor. It was an intoxicating power, one she wouldn't trade for anything.

And then all this pleasure was stopped at once, in a moment. Mia lifted her divine feet up, out of their reach, although they tried to follow her, bending their necks and extending their tongues as far as they could, so they could once again taste her divinity.

But no such luck. Mia lifted her legs so high, that the six worshippers could only fall on their face before her. Then, with tears forming in their eyes, they looked with confusion at their Goddess.

"You want to continue, don't you, my slaves?" Mia asked them. They all quickly confirmed their desires to her.

"Then beg. All six of you." Mia said coldly. "Beg for it. Beg me, your Goddess, to allow you to smell, lick and taste my feet once again."

All six of them didn't hesitate for a moment, their gaze locked upon Mia's mesmerizing feet as if hypnotized. They wanted nothing more than to continue serving. And although they wanted at once shower her with their pleas, they didn't quite know how to use their words right at this moment, too amazed, too emotional, too out of their depths. They were afraid of offending their Goddess with begging that would be considered subpar by Her. All of those thoughts raced through their minds in a split second but after a very short moment one of the kneeling girls mustered enough courage to speak first.

"Please, Mia," Sarah pleaded. "I need to continue licking your foot. Please, Goddess!" She begged, her voice quivering with desperation. "Please let us continue to serve you!"

Mia, the embodiment of beauty and power, simply smirked at the humble entreaties of her loyal slave. Her eyes gleamed with mischievous delight as she gazed down at Sarah, Alison, Hannah, Patrick, Sylvia, and Mike -- the six foot worshippers who had fallen so hopelessly under her spell.

"And the rest of you?" Mia asked five other kneelers, for Sarah was already audibly begging.

They all immediately started groveling, the same as their colleague, to allow them to continue worshipping Mia's divine feet.

Alison and Hannah, the two girls who had previously been devoting their lives to Mia's left foot alongside Sarah, began to plead with earnest desperation. "Please, Mia," Alison implored, her voice wavering as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'll do anything. Just let me taste your feet again." Her words echoed the sentiment shared by Sarah and Hannah, both of whom remained kneeling at Mia's side, their faces awash with sorrow and longing.

"Please, Mia," Hannah pleaded, breaking under the strain of her emotional turmoil. "I'm addicted to your scent. I can't live without it." The two worshipping girls exchanged a knowing glance, their bond strengthened by their shared devotion to Mia's feet. They knew the other was thinking the same thing: their lives depended on Goddess's mercy.

On the opposite side knelt Patrick, Sylvia, and Mike, their faces equally desolate as they awaited her decision.

Patrick, with his fiery determination, was the first to speak. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat. "Mia," he uttered, his voice strained but steadfast. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Your feet are like a drug to me. I crave them. I need them."

Sylvia, a petite redhead with enchanting green eyes, chimed in, her voice trembling with urgency. "Mia, we all share the same addiction. We can't get enough of your feet. We need them, Goddess. Oh, Goddess, please, grant us your mercy!"

Mia, the epitome of beauty and power, studied her captivated audience with a mix of amusement and admiration. She knew full well the extent of her influence over them, the irresistible allure of her intoxicating, heavenly feet. As her slaves begged for permission to continue their worship, she savored the exquisite power she possessed over their every action.

"Very well, my eager servants," Mia finally conceded, her voice an ode to seductive dominion. "I shall grant you access to my divine feet once more. But only on one condition..."

The six foot worshippers, their faces alight with hope, hungrily awaited Mia's demands.

"You must all perform a feat that proves your unwavering loyalty to me," Mia declared. "A test of endurance and devotion that will separate the weak from the strong." Her words struck a chord within her slaves, igniting a firestorm of competitiveness.

They had all experienced the euphoric effects of Mia's feet, and they knew well the consequences of disappointing their goddess. They were determined to prove their allegiance, to demonstrate their unwavering devotion to her feet.

"What do you propose, oh Goddess Mia?" Patrick, the brawny football player, inquired, his gaze fixated on her right foot that was still hovering above him, out of his reach.

Mia, the ethereal beauty, took a moment to deliberate before presenting her demand. Her lips curled into a devilish grin, revealing a hint of mischief beneath her composed exterior. "Very well, my keen pupils," Mia teased. "I shall present you with a contest of strength, skill and tenacity."

The six foot worshippers exchanged anxious glances, their eagerness bordering on desperation. "What kind of contest, Goddess?" Mike, the good looking dark-haired boy questioned, his tone conveying the slightest trace of apprehension.

Mia, the divine temptress, paused to study her eager subjects. "A fight," she proclaimed, her voice reverberating with anticipation. "The two boys, Mike and Patrick, will fight with each. The four girls, Sarah, Hannah, Alison and Sylvia, will fight with each other as well. Two fighting groups and only one winner from each. You will beat yourself to a bloody pulp, just for the chance of, once more, tasting my holy foot sweat". Mia's voice rang clear in the room, her tone as commanding as it was sensual.

There was a shock in the eyes of six worshippers. But they desperately wanted to return to Mia's feet. And they would do anything for it.

"So, I repeat, in case you are too infatuated with me to remember. Patrick will fight with Mike. Sarah, Alison, Sylvia and Hannah will fight amongst each other". Mia stated matter-of-factly. They all stoop up from their prone positions and started to look at each other. "Whoever wins in each category gets to taste my holy feet again. The losers will be out of the picture of my foot lickers."

"Prepare yourselves!" Mia's command echoed through the auditorium, striking a nerve within her worshippers. The tension mounted, thickening the air with anticipation. The four girls eyed each other warily, their hearts pounding with anxiety and exhilaration. They knew that this fight would determine their future, their access to Mia's feet hanging in the balance.

No one wanted to lose this opportunity, the chance to taste the essence of their goddess. Each participant's gaze burned with determination, the flames of passion flickering wildly within their eyes.

"So, boys," Mia cooed, her voice silken and sultry. "Are you ready to prove your worth?" Patrick and Mike exchanged grimaces, their resolve steeling in the face of their Goddess's expectations. Their competitive spirits ignited, their fists balling tightly in anticipation.

"Yes, Mia," Patrick gritted through clenched teeth. "We're ready." Mike nodded, his eyes narrowing with focus. "Just tell us when to start."

Mia's sapphire eyes danced with anticipation as she surveyed the eager contestants.

"Begin!" she ordered, her voice like a thunderous crackle.

With a roar, Patrick lunged towards Mike, his muscles flexing as he swung a devastating punch. Mike, however, was not unprepared. He wasn't as big or as muscular as Patrick but he was still in a very good shape -- and he was definitely more agile. He sidestepped the blow, countering with a jab aimed directly at Patrick's exposed ribs.

The air escaped Patrick's lungs in a grunt, but he refused to succumb to the pain. Instead, he launched himself forward, wrapping his burly arms around Mike's torso and forcing him to the ground.

As the two wrestled furiously, the crowd watched, their breaths caught in their throats. Every punch, every kick, every painful cry resonated throughout the auditorium, fueling the building anticipation. "Fight! Fight! Fight!" they chanted, their voices growing louder with each passing moment.

The tension between the two contenders escalated, reaching unprecedented heights. The pair grappled ferociously, neither willing to yield an inch. Patrick, fueled by desperation, rained punches upon Mike, but the latter's evasive manoeuvres proved too swift for his blows to land.

Meanwhile, the other four contestants stood in a circle in a different part of the auditorium's podium, their eyes locked on one another, scanning for any sign of weakness. Sylvia, the petite redhead, threw the first punch, aiming straight for Sarah's jaw.

Sarah deflected the punch with ease, her years of dance training providing her with exceptional agility. Alison, observing the unfolding battle from the periphery, seized the opportunity to strike a surprise attack. Hannah, ever vigilant, leaped into the fray, her lithe form cutting through the air like a razor-sharp blade.

The four girls traded blows in desperation, determination, and rage. Each attempted to assert dominance over the others, their bodies aflame with the heat of competition. The air crackled with the intensity of their struggle, the physicality of their conflict amplified by the electric atmosphere.

As they battled, both parties poured everything they had into defeating their opponent. Fists flew, knees buckled, and sweat cascaded down their brows, each drop representing the purest form of determination. Yet, neither party gave an inch, their will and spirit undeterred by the mounting exhaustion.

After a while, favourites were starting to emerge. Mike and Patrick had beaten each other severely, both of them with visible injuries. But it was muscular Patrick that was coming out on top. One last kick to the head, and finally, Mike fell down on the floor. He didn't lose his consciousness but he had no strength to fight anymore. Patrick was victorious.

As for the girls, Sarah had managed to stay on her feet after a grueling match with Alison, Hannah, and Sylvia. All the girls had exhausted themselves, their bodies battered and bruised. Despite their best efforts, the intense physicality of the fight had proven too much for some. Hannah, Sylvia and Alison lay defeated, their bodies spent and broken.

"I'd say congratulations are in order," Mia said, her voice filled with satisfaction while looking and Patrick and Sarah -- her two winners. "You've shown remarkable tenacity and perseverance. You will get to worship my feet some more right now", Mia announced, her voice like a soothing balm to their wounded bodies. "With four of your other classmates from the last row", she added.

Patrick and Sarah's faces turned sour. They thought they won the chance to worship her feet for themselves, that each would be worshipping one of her foot. But it wasn't to be.

Also the slaves from third row, all of them being overlooked in this new scenario, groaned with disappointment. They would have to wait the longest to worship their Goddess. But it was their Goddess's decision -- they could not question it and they knew it. They didn't even dare.

"Before we begin again", Mia stood up from her big chair and took few steps towards four of her beaten up minions that were laying on the ground. "I have something for the losers", she looked at Sylvia, Hannah, Alison and Mike, who were still just laying there. Mia positioned herself in a rather equal distance from every one of them and then... she spat on the floor.

"That's your treat for giving it your all. You're welcome", said Mia coldly, and then returned to her seat, her provisorial throne, her hips swaying seductively and her bare feet leaving marks on the ground.

The defeated Sylvia, Hannah, Alison and Mike, awakened by the possibility to taste the heavenly spit of Mia, started to crawl to it, in the hope of lapping it up. Exhausted, they couldn't stand up, but they crawled to the spit of their Goddess with all they had. The race was on.

Sylvia, Hannah, Alison and Mike, defeated yet desperate to appease their Mistress, hurriedly inched their way toward the spot where Mia had spewed her godly saliva. The four worshipers, their wounds fresh and painful, disregarded their aches as they scrabbled across the cold, unforgiving floor. Each crawled closer and closer to the delectable droplet, their minds consumed by visions of the sweet nectar of the gods.

As they dragged their bodies across the cold, unforgiving floor, their desperation intensified, morphing into a potent cocktail of lust and avarice. Palpable energy radiated from the four worshippers. The crawl became a frantic dash, the remaining vestiges of self-control dissipating instantly. Sylvia, the petite redhead, led the charge, her slender fingers clawing at the concrete beneath her. Hannah and Alison followed closely behind, their eyes ablaze with unquenchable hunger. The air was charged with anticipation, the silence punctuated sporadically by the soft thuds of their bodies hitting the cold floor.

Mia, the imperious ruler of their destinies, gazed coolly at the desperate figures before her. She allowed a small smile to play across her lips, watching as they fought tooth and nail for the privilege of consuming her spit. Their voracious desperation pleased her immensely, fueling the intoxicating sense of power swelling within her chest.

"Look at my little puppies fight," Mia murmured softly, her gaze lingering on the melee before her. Sylvia, Hannah, Alison, and Mike, defeated yet desperate, scrabbled for the precious spit that dripped from their Mistress's lips.

"So desperate for even my smallest drops," Mia mused, her words tumbling forth like liquid silver. "It's quite adorable, really."

Finally Sylvia, the petite redhead, was able to reach the angelic spit of her Goddess before anyone else. Just mere inches before Mike.

The boy's eyes expressed his horror and enormous disappointment, as he watched, inches away from the redhead's face, how she immediately started to lap up Mia's spit with her tongue, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. However, her happiness was not to last long. As soon as she tasted the spit, she realized it was no ordinary saliva. It was imbued with Mia's uniqueness, her mind-destroying chemicals and pheromones, causing Sylvia to become overwhelmed with lust. Her heart raced, and her breathing quickened. Both of her hands immediately reached to her pussy, almost like she was struck by lightning.