Three's a Crowd Pt. 01

"You want to see them, don't you?"

I swallowed a mouthful of saliva. "I...umm...if you want."

With that, I was startled by Jasmine snapping her fingers. "I don't think I like your attitude, bitch boy." She nonchalantly flicked her finger towards the end of the bed and her shuffling feet as they freed themselves from her blanket. Her soles bared in my direction, she crossed her legs at the ankles and blinked at me expectantly. Immediately, my eyes were transfixed and suddenly, all that mattered was taking in the soft beauty of Jasmine's gorgeous soles. All the while, I stood in the doorway, almost drooling as my eyes were kept glued to the bottom of her feet. I took in all of the intricacies of her skin as her toes gently flexed and her insteps wrinkled as she shifted position for comfort. "I think you need a reminder of who the boss is."

"I don't," I said unconvincingly, my eyes never wavering. "I know who the boss is."

"Really?" she asked in a girly, teasing voice. "Tell me who that is then."

I swallowed nervously. "It's you, Jasmine. You're the boss."

"Then you better kiss my feet and apologise right now," she said, before looking down at her phone and returning to whatever she was doing. Such was her sense of control and expectation regarding my capitulation, that her disinterest was mockingly evident. It was as if she knew I was going to drop to my knees and kiss her feet, even while I remained standing and awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. Just like that day she'd known I was going to do all of her work for her at the restaurant. My suggestion that she moved out was nothing more than a mild blip in her day, because we both knew that I was putty in her hands whenever she revealed her feet or exerted her bratty ways over me.

Despite knowing that Barbara had insisted I stand my ground and serve Jasmine with her notice to leave, I couldn't deny the stirrings that were re-emerging within me. Whenever Jasmine treated me in this way, with such apathy and disdain, it would ignite something within me where I would be left fighting the urge to resist her nonchalant, entitlement. I loved that she knew I desired her feet so much. It was like a secret between us, and she'd never told anyone else about my weakness for her feet. Instead, she used it to her advantage on a daily basis, and she'd ensnared me as her willing foot slave for the past two years because of it.

I glanced back down the corridor, convinced that Barbara must have been watching from somewhere. She was still pretty oblivious to the true nature of my relationship with my housemate, and if she discovered the truth, then there would be all hell to pay. Still, her soles were like my own personal tractor-beam, and I couldn't resist their pull, my thoughts all over the place as I stumbled into her room, and dropped to my knees at the end of her bed. Once I was up so close to her soles, I knew it had all been worth it. Her toe rings were so pretty, and I licked my lips at the thought of feeling their coolness on my tongue. It didn't matter what Barbara thought anymore, because all that was important was Jasmine getting her way; as she always did.

"That's it," she said in a cheery, sardonic voice, still without looking away from her phone. "Down where you belong, like the little bitch boy you are. Now apologise for even suggesting that I move out." She wiggled her toes teasingly. "Kiss my perfect feet and apologise."

I remained hovering at the end of the bed, sweat beginning to trickle its way down my spine as I nervously considered the best course of action. I'd been through this scenario a hundred times before, and I'd always be as hard as a rock. The very first time I'd kissed Jasmine's feet while admitting she was the boss, all while still wearing my manager's uniform, I'd felt a spark run through my entire body. She'd deliberately made me wear it, even though the event had taken place in my apartment, and while down on my knees, I'd been overcome by all sorts of female domination fantasies. All thoughts of having a girlfriend had gone out of the window and I'd felt like that was what a relationship was supposed to be like for me. I wasn't capable of dating a girl on parity, I could only ever be at her feet, serving and pandering after her, and Jasmine had realised my potential. She hadn't just friend-zoned me or pushed me aside, she'd found a useful place for me in her life, one that I seemed to enjoyed and could thrive in. I almost felt like an idiot that I had wasted so much of my youth running after girls that were so far out of my league. How I had offended them with my nice-guy behaviour and creepily smothered them in my attempts to win them over. I should have been begging at their feet for them to make use of me, just as I was about to do with Jasmine.

While she completely ignored me, I nuzzled my face into the sole of her foot, almost mewling in defeat and snivelling subservience. I buried my nose into the warm, sweaty groove beneath her toes, built up from hours of her laying beneath the humid, stuffy blanket, and in response, they naturally curled and clutched at my skin. While I breathed in their light, girly scent, my thoughts drifted to how I had once been this young girl's manager, yet, now here I was, breathing in the smell from her feet while she lived for free in my apartment. I practically waited on her hand and foot, while she lazed around my place and lived without a care in the world. But what did she have to worry about? I didn't charge her rent and I covered all of the bills and expenses. She basically had it made, but for that very reason, I loved being used by her. It had been the perfect arrangement for the past two years, but now, I had a girlfriend, as much as a surprise to myself as anyone else. This situation simply couldn't continue with another woman in my life, could it? However, as I breathed in her foot stink, that stance was becoming less solid. I should have known that as soon as she tapped into my submissive desires that I was in trouble, and I actually lamented that Barbara had abandoned me to confront Jasmine alone: I didn't stand a chance.

"You're the boss, Queen Jasmine," I whined, while breathing in the vitalising odour from between her toes. Simply admitting such a thing made me shiver with pleasure as I caved in my conviction. It was something that often occurred between us. I was constantly down at Jasmine's feet throughout the week, grovelling and apologising for trivial things. For taking too long to prepare her breakfast or for not cleaning up after her to her satisfaction. "I'm so sorry for suggesting you move out."

"Good boy," she whispered, while her phone clearly held more importance than me: her eyes never leaving it. Her casual indifference towards me only tapped into my subservient manner. The more she treated me as if I was an irritation, an annoyance that she merely had to tolerate in order to mooch off me, the more I wanted to be taken advantage of by her. It was the same way she had rolled her eyes at me or tutted back when I was her manager, whenever I'd ask her to do something. I was just an annoying older guy that was making her day harder, by actually expecting her to do some work. She'd soon shown me the error in my ways, however, and in a short time she'd reduced me to nothing but her workplace lackey. Now, I'd become a full-time servant in my own home, and all to Jasmine's benefit.

She glanced over the phone, and offered me the briefest attention. "Now, kiss it," she said, while pushing the ball of her foot against my lips. "Kiss it and show me how grateful you are that I choose to live here."

I whimpered as I placed my lips against her wrinkled sole, and softly kissed it, feeling that exciting feeling of surrender flowing through me as it always did. However, there was something else tingling me on this occasion. It wasn't just the fact I was submitting to Jasmine, as I always did, but rather, I was doing so against the wishes of my girlfriend. Barbara had explicitly told me I was to ask Jasmine to move out, and what was I doing? Grovelling before her and kissing her feet. If Barbara was to walk out, she'd be shocked to her core, confused and devastated by witnessing such a pathetic, snivelling scene. But that scene was my reality, and had been so for the entirety of my relationship with her. It had been a miracle that I'd hidden my servitude of my housemate for this long. However, as I was down on my knees at Jasmine's feet, breathing in their divine stink while I planted a series of adoring kisses all over their length, I contemplated if my relationship with Barbara had been the lie all along? This, right here, was my true calling in life.

"See, you don't want to stop doing this, do you, James? You like doing things for me, right?" I felt a shiver run down my back, and suddenly Jasmine's black-painted toes dipped beneath my chin, raising my face until our eyes met. There was an adorable little smile on her face as she batted her eyelashes and said, "You like doing things for me, right, bitch boy?"

I licked my lips excitedly, and immediately, I was transported back years to the sight of Jasmine wearing the restaurant uniform, leaning against the counter, and playing with her phone in the same way she always did whenever I was humbling myself at her feet these days. She had been more concentrated on texting whoever she was talking to, rather than cleaning any of the dirty tables out in the lobby. That's where I had been, sweat trickling down my brow as I wiped the table clean in my shirt and tie. It had been a couple of weeks since she had started the job, and gradually, over our shifts together, she had been doing less and less work, whereas I was doing duties unbecoming of a manager. Working my fingers to the bone with tasks that I hadn't been expected to perform for years, but had suddenly become a daily routine, ever since Jasmine's realisation during her probationary review that I was nothing but a pushover.

Some of the other staff had even made teasing comments, saying how I had been smitten with the new girl, and how I had basically become her simp. Of course, it had been terribly embarrassing, but still, it was had to resist her intoxicating magnetism. She just had a way of making me feel good whenever she offered me the tiniest crumb of approval. A flutter of her eyelashes, a minuscule smirk of her juicy lips, or the way she'd turn and offer me a glimpse of her peachy arse. It was like I had been constantly secretly rewarded for doing her work, and hopeful for that to continued, I had thrown myself into the task.

As I had finished up with the lobby, and deposited a tray of empty burger wrappers into the trash can, Jasmine had momentarily glanced up from her phone as I passed her at the counter. There had been a grin on her face, a sparkle in her eyes; her entire expression the picture of amusement. She had been the new girl, after all, the bottom rung of the ladder, and yet, there she had been relaxing, while her manager scurried around and did her work. She had seemed so at home with the situation, so used to having an easy life because of her looks, that I had been helpless and putty in her hands. The worst part had been...she knew it. "You like doing things for me, right?" she'd teased leaning her velvety butt against the counter, her slip-on shoes crossed against the tiled floor. It had been a sentence I was going to become very familiar with, though at that stage, I was too shy to tell her the truth. I had blushed and cringed while bending to her will, but I had never, ever vocalised the truth behind why I was doing it: because I liked it.

On that occasion, I hadn't answered at all, instead, I'd merely reddened and pretended I had something to do in the office. However, once alone, I had found myself hard as a rock beneath the desk. Being used as a lackey by a girl so much younger than me, especially one who had barely been at the restaurant five minutes, whereas I had worked my way up through the ranks...well...it had been strangely exciting. I knew I'd been entering dangerous territory, with her being my employee and all, but I couldn't resist her compelling pull. Jasmine had been different to all of the other girls that I became infatuated with. She hadn't rejected or ghosted me; she'd allowed me to remain in her orbit and please her on a daily basis. I knew all I had to do was keep getting in her good books, and perhaps, she'd see the potential in me and our interaction could turn even one day turn romantic. That had been the end goal, hadn't it? I hadn't just been doing all these things because it had given me a cheap thrill. That had just been an extra bonus, surely? I mean, I had the goal of becoming her boyfriend, still, hadn't I? The more she had smiled at me, licked her lips, winked and teased me, the more I had accepted that the humiliation of following her around like a lovesick puppy was worth it. Everyone else that had been poking fun at me was just oblivious to the truth of my relationship with Jasmine.

Jasmine's toes slapped against my cheek and brought me back to the current situation. "Quit daydreaming," she said. "I asked you a question, dummy." She lifted her foot and tapped me on the nose with her cute big toe. "You better not be fantasising about us dating again. You know how things are, right?"

"I'd never think that," I said. "I know I can never be your boyfriend, Jasmine."

"That's right," she said with a smirk. "You'll never be my boyfriend. You're just my bitch boy, and that makes you happy, doesn't it?"

I nodded. When she'd first moved in, I'd deluded myself into believing that if I treated her like a princess, that our relationship would progress to something more romantic. With us living in the same apartment, eventually, she'd succumb, and realise that us dating wasn't so far-fetched. However, during that first week in my apartment, Jasmine had swiftly put me in my place, and while she'd settled in, she'd made it clear that we would never be a couple. "You're going to be my slave," she had bluntly said during those early days, while I was down on my knees as she applied her make up. "Nothing more. We will never date. You will never know what it's like to take me on a date, like the guy I'm meeting tonight will. You know that?"

"Yes," I'd said excitedly, while cowering at her feet, one placed on my back commandingly while the other was offered beneath my lips.

"If you really want me to live here with you, then this is how it will be. You'll be a slave to my feet, and I'm going to milk you with them as much as I can. I'm going to use you, and that's why you wanted me to move in, right?"

I had felt like I was in a dream, and had agreed while planting kisses all over her pretty, little feet. The same feelings were still running through me at this moment, as I kissed her feet devotedly, two years later. It was as if my devotion to Jasmine had never wavered since my initial submission to her.

"Good. So, just go back to kissing up to my feet and apologising. This is my home as much as it is yours, right?" She giggled to herself. "Actually, it's probably more mine than yours by this point." She lifted her leg up and arched her foot so its shiny ball was right in my face. "Tell me the truth, you like doing things for me, don't you?"

"Yes," I moaned while leaning in and placing a flurry of soft, affectionate kisses along the length of her sole, starting at the ball and working my way down to her heel. "I'm sorry," I mumbled against her skin. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It felt so damn good to grovel, to give in to her, to celebrate her getting her way once again. As my kisses progressed, I upped my slavish commitment, dragging my tongue all over her sweaty skin and probing between her toes.

"Ohhh, tickles," she said while cooing and encouraging me. "That's a good boy. Make love to my feet because this is the closest you'll ever get." It was the same rejection that had plagued me through my life, but God, Jasmine just knew how to make that rejection feel so damn good.

Ever since I'd first met her, and had been taken in by her spunky attitude and natural confidence, I'd spent endless hours fantasising about kissing her soft, pouty lips. I'd imagined her looking up to me as her manager and being completely awestruck and eventually realising what a catch I was. That over time, as I helped her out and made her life easier, she'd come to accept that I would make a wonderful, loving boyfriend for her. That making her life easier was just a part of a relationship with me, and I would do everything in my power to worship and adore her. From the way I'd treated her at work, she'd realise, that I'd treat her even better at home.

I'd been correct in my assessment, and Jasmine had indeed realised all of that, however, the 'boyfriend' aspect had evidently never been an option. She wanted all of the other treatment, but actually dating me was something that had never crossed her mind. She viewed me as a guy to be used, not to have sex with, and I now accepted that role with all my heart.

"So, do you still want me to move out?" Jasmine's eyes were squinting in my direction, almost challenging me to defy her. As I remained kneeling at the foot of her bed, my nose still intoxicated with the invigorating scent of her light foot sweat, my tongue still tingling from the delicious flavours I'd extracted from between her toes, my mind was completely hypnotised by her resolute femininity and I could barely conjure a coherent thought. In my hesitation, her lips curled slightly into a smirk, before she placed the ball of one foot against my cheek and nudged me away. "I didn't think so," she said. "Now, why don't you be a good boy and make me something to drink. This whole waste of time has left me parched."

"Ugh, yes, Jasmine," I stuttered, while nervously crawling towards her the hallway.

"And Jaaaaaaames," she called after me, which left me frozen. "Give your girlfriend a kiss from me." She poked her tongue out, flapping it up and down obscenely. "Maybe she'll be able to taste my feet too."

She was cackling as I closed the door behind me, and I left Jasmine's room in a daze, my whole body buzzing with the exhilarating feeling of submission. Whenever I'd give in to Jasmine and allow her to boss me around, I would be filled with a pleasurable sensation that surpassed all others I'd ever experienced. Even my fumbling sexual encounters with my own girlfriend couldn't compete.

I stumbled towards the living area, and crashed down onto the sofa. My thoughts replaying Jasmine's words over in my head: imagining kissing Barbara and her recoiling at the taste of Jasmine's toe sweat. My cock was rock hard in my jeans, and I felt embarrassed that my girlfriend had trusted me to do the right thing, and instead, I'd been sent away with an erection induced by my own capitulation. While I sat there, rubbing its length through the material, my thoughts were entirely on my housemate; my girlfriend almost a distant memory. Even throughout our six months together, my infatuation with Jasmine had remained, and now, while on the brink of taking the next step with Barbara, that obsession remained resolute.

I'd never stood a chance, and my crazed lust had gradually festered its way into our working environment further. After having received some complaints from her colleagues, most focused around how Jasmine wouldn't get her hands dirty like everyone else and felt like the work was beneath her; I had started rostering myself into working alongside her on the front counter in a kind of hybrid team-member/manger role. I had played this off as being necessary due to our staffing issues, however, having an excuse to be around Jasmine had been the true motive. Therefore, while Jasmine was busy serving customers, I'd get around the other mundane tasks, moving between stations and keeping everything clean, on top of serving customers with her when things got extra busy. I had tried to play it off like I was just being a good manager and keeping a close watch on things, however, it was painfully obvious that I was basically Jasmine's lackey to anyone with half a brain.