Full Marks

RUTHLESS
(1,772 words / 8 mins)
/ ♂

A caring and devoted slave helps recognize his goddess’ achievement by being put through a devious torture.

[Foot Fetish (Socks), CBT, Impact Play (Trampling)]


When Angelica’s final exams came onto the horizon I knew it would be tough. I knew it would mean long nights of studying and sacrificed sleep, I knew it would mean stress and worry and all the support I could give her. But it was a surprise how blissfully, beautifully hard it would turn out to be when she finished them.

Our relationship had blossomed the previous summer, as she relished the brief time off before the last year of her program. She was gearing up for what she always knew would be the hardest semester of her education, but even by then it was already worth it knowing how far completing it would take her, and what it would equip her to do.

Becoming a licensed medical professional would enable her to affect the lives of thousands, or more, and I embraced the opportunity to enable her. Whenever she pulled an all nighter I was there in the morning to make her coffee, whenever she spent hours making flashcards I was there to turn them over and quiz her. When she was worn out and exhausted I’d rub her body and put salts and oils in the bathtub. Whatever I could do to mitigate the strain and promote her wellbeing.

So when she finally texted me that she had gotten her last results and that I should come over for a night in to help her celebrate, I was ecstatic. I was as proud of her as I had ever been, only with a gratification and a relief added into it that was overwhelming, and when I knocked on the door to her apartment I hardly even knew what I’d say.

As it opened I saw a relief and an accomplishment, and a pride on her face that I had been so longing to see, and been looking forward to for months, ever since the first time I had seen it as ambition. And I was overcome again. She solved the problem of my tied up tongue though, as she raised her chin and spoke.

“Bow,” she said, making a complete sentence out of such a simple command, and I fell to my knees on the doorstep and looked up at her.

She put one confident hand on her hip and raised the other, and she snapped her fingers and pointed down to the tan suede moccasins on her feet, and I took one last look at the magnificent sight of her face before collapsing on top of them and starting to kiss. I kissed all over the tops of them and along the fuzzy cotton lining around her heels, and then back up the bunched up slouch socks on her ankles, and down again.

I rested my forehead against the thick, white cotton of them, my lips pressed against her shoes, and I waited until she was satisfied. When she snapped her fingers again I rose back to my knees and followed her beckoning finger, crawling inside and waiting until she turned on her heel and walked into the bedroom.

She ordered me to sit up on my knees at the foot of the bed as she closed the door behind us, and she had me put my hands on the back of my head. She pulled off my t-shirt and rubbed her hands along my torso and up my back, the sensation making me alive to her entire presence, and then she stood up to grab the hair on top of my head and make me look up at her.

I swooned as my eyes drank her in again, and I trembled in place where she wanted me, and then I heard her slip out of her shoes. She held one up to my face and slowly guided it over my nose and mouth, and the strings on the top of it tickling against my forehead.

“Smell!” she said, and the thick, sweaty scent that accompanied my obedience hit me so hard that I flinched and shuddered into her grip.

She tossed it back to the floor, undid the buckle on my belt and yanked my pants down to my knees, and then she slowly tugged my underwear up into me before pulling them down as well.

My stiff, eager cock stretched and strained into the air, and she grinned as she gently took it in her hand and squeezed, softly at first and then harder, and then harder, and then harder. My lip quivered and I pouted along with my barely contained groan, and she smiled and kissed my forehead as she laid it, dripping, on the bed.

I listened as she stepped behind me and lifted the backpack that contained her textbooks onto the desk, the weight of them dropping, even carefully, onto the table with a deep, dull thud, and when she came back alongside of me she was carrying them all in her arms.

“Put your hands down on your thighs.”

Each one was heavy and thick, and as she shifted the heaving stack in her arms she slipped the piece of printed paper off of the top and set it down on the nightstand. She looked at me and smiled again, and then her smile broke wide into a wicked and devilish grin, and she looked back down at the paper.

“Advanced Endocrinology… 94 percent.”

She looked at me again, briefly, and then she smirked as she took the top book from the stack and casually tossed it onto my dick.

I grunted as it hit me, flinching forward into the shock of it, and she snickered as she glanced down again.

“If you think that’s a lot you should imagine what it took me to absorb it all.” She grinned to herself. “Sit up.”

I got back into position and she reached up with her socked foot to scoot the book into place after it had bounced against me on the mattress. She placed it back on the floor and cocked her hips, looking down at the paper again.

“Clinical Pharmacology… 96 percent.”

She paused and tossed the book a little harder this time, letting gravity bring it down onto the first one.

She laughed over my grunt this time, and adjusted the stack again with her foot.

“Ooph, this was a tough one… Surgical Anesthesiology… 97 percent.”

The book flew from her hand and came slamming down on the others, and she was already smirking as I groaned. She leaned down with her hand this time to reset them, and she whispered coyly against my cheek. “That was a hefty one.”

She cleared her throat lightly as she stood back up and pulled my head up by my hair again, and I braced myself as she read.

“Clinical Methods…,” she paused. “93 percent!”

A nudge of her knee straightened that one and she bounced on the balls of her feet as the load in her arms lightened and the weight on my cock grew.

“And finally…,” she said, turning it with her wrist, looking it over nonchalantly and cocking her head in the direction of my whimpering. She looked at me sideways and made me wait. “History of Epidemics… 100 percent!”

A flick of her wrist and it came falling down onto the rest of them, and she put her hand on my arm and stepped onto the bed and crouched to adjust them one last time. She steadied herself and stood back up, and then she slowly lowered her socked foot straight down on top of the stack and pressed.

I groaned louder now, and then louder still as she put her hands on my shoulders and stepped up on top of them, giggling as she balanced, the weight of her and the weight of her knowledge grinding down on my cock down and pressing it into the mattress.

With strength and with poise she whispered, “Hold my calves,” and then she carefully raised up her chest and stood, holding her head up high and gazing proudly around the room.

She took a deep breath and bent back down to put her hands on my shoulders again, and she lowered her lips to the top of my head and kissed, and I felt her grin and snicker as she whispered, “Hold my ankles.”

I breathed as she positioned, ready for the final humiliation, and then she gradually began thrusting her legs, bouncing up and down faster and faster, until I had reached up for the curve of her ass and pulled her chest into my face, whining heavily into her, and she laughed out loud as she lost her balance and stepped back down onto the bed.

She stood over me, grinning, her pride shining down on my endurance, and she casually tipped the stack off of me with her foot. She raised it up to my face and stepped down on it, lunging gently into me and wiggling her ankle, the grimy wetness of her sweat pressing hard into my nose and forehead, and then she stepped back and began undoing her pants.

I breathed heavily and she gave me a wink, and then she sat down on the bed and pulled them off before reaching into the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled her socks up high and adjusted the pillows, scooting her crotch down toward me, and then she smiled happily as she stretched out her legs and held her feet back in front of me.

She wiggled her toes and let me look at the stained, discolored imprints of her soles in her thick, sweaty slouch socks, and then she tapped the button on her vibrator and buried my face as she guided it between her legs.

Her moans rang out instantly, and she rocked her legs back and forth, feeling my weight pushed forward against them, the way she had trained me. She purred at me to sniff, to breathe deeply and worship her stink, as she gasped as she watched me and I heard the toy quiet and get loud again as she slid it in and out of her. She moaned harder and deeper, her legs twitching and tensing against me, and then finally, with a last, gasping breath, she came.

She laid there and breathed for a moment, the toy switching off again, and then she lowered her legs to the bed again and sat up.

A smirk grew across her face, something even more wicked and scheming than before smoldering in her eyes, and she said, “That’s one. You’re going to give me an orgasm for every one of those textbooks.”


© 2019

(2)This story appears in
HARSH: The Collected FemDom Erotica, Vol. 2.


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