Life Changes (Chapter 6)

It was still unreal hearing the woman’s normally angelic, maternal voice twisted into this callous attitude, but the sight of her twin bare feet propped up in front of me, each nearly triple my own height alone, was real enough to make up for it. Her feet pitched forward, her soles aimed squarely for me, prepared to drop like a ton of bricks and bury me in the ottoman fluff. Hastily, I stumbled forward, though I had no idea what she expected specifically. Still, I had a rough idea, based on my previous time with Kayla, and that time I’d caught Grace “using” David. Taking a deep breath, I squatted in front of my future mother-in-law’s nude heel, stuck out my tongue, and pressed it into the heavy curvature of semi-dry skin.

            “EXCUSE me?” Grace barked. Her foot jutted forward suddenly, only by a couple of inches, when her heel impacted me, soft yet firm though it was, I felt like I’d been struck by a punching bag at twenty miles an hour. I flew back several inches, dazed, and flopped on my back, suddenly finding myself looking up at Grace’s balletically pointed foot hanging over me like a UFO. Shadow darkened her sole wrinkles, the warmth of a day’s work and time spent cooped in those stockings now mustily wafted down over me.

            “I’m s-sorry…” I whimpered, though I didn’t know what I was apologizing for.

            “Were you really going to start the after-work routine with a tongue bath? Two years of practice, and you still can’t keep it straight, David? The Transmogrifier must have really shrunk your pea-sized brain down, too,” Grace droned. Her toes waggled in warning. “Really, it’s not complicated at all, but I guess I’ve got to go over it once more with you. I have no idea how I got to be so charitable, but here we go. Licking comes later. First, I just want kisses. Soft, quick kisses to act as a massage on my poor tired feet. We’ll work up toward the bath. Are we clear?”

            “Yes! Please, I’m sorry, I just forgot, and-”

            “I don’t want your excuses. I just want your obedient little lips kissing every single square inch of my feet. Get to it now.”

            I heard that much loud and clear. Trembling, I crawled toward Grace’s gargantuan peds as they slid to a vertically-propped position again, impatiently waiting my service. Muscling past the profoundly shaming awkwardness-factor of having to kiss the feet of my fiancé’s own mother, I puckered up and pressed my face into the mattress-like mass of Grace’s heel again. After leaving the first smooch, I moved efficiently on one fraction of an inch to the right and did the same. The balmy aroma became apparent immediately, albeit not as offensive compared to what I’d already experienced in this terrible arrangement. Her skin wasn’t nearly as unpleasant-tasting as Kayla’s, either, a bit stagnant and flavored of expensive perfume that tickled my throat, but thankfully not drenched in gunky sweat to scorch my gullet. Flecks of stocking-grunge were polka-dotted along the entire wall of sole flesh and tucked into the creases, but even these weren’t a terrible burden to kiss over. All things considered, this objective was manageable, and given that Grace wasn’t a gym-rat like her elder daughter, if I had to pick my poison, I knew I’d go for the older of the two women and her less-sweaty feet every time this week. Not that I would have the choice, of course.

            “Why are you going so slow today?” Grace complained, after I’d planted a couple dozen pecks on her giant foot. My head slammed hard into the spongy padding of her bare heel when a lumpy object smacked me in the rear, causing me to face-plant. After extracting my features from the cushy terrain, I turned around to see Grace’s opposite foot flattened to the stool, and her big toe arched upward, having sucker-punched me in retaliation. “We’ve had this conversation so many times before, David, and every time I think it’s gotten through your little skull, you prove me wrong again. For the hundredth time, I want those kisses to come fast and hard. No dawdling, no breaks. I’m not looking for some sensitive loving attention. Not from my personal slave. You’ve got a job to do. Do better, before I have to discipline you even more severely than I already will be.”

            Already? Dismayed at the thought that I’d evidently failed without even realizing, yet spurred on by the threat that it was possible to fail even worse, I went into an adrenaline overdrive. No longer pausing for a breath between each kiss, and ensuring every contact of my lips upon Grace’s tired heel lasted no longer than a blink, I entered a smooching frenzy. Following her directions, I kissed harder and more deeply, even while spending less time at each spot, but the effect was enough to more than double the potency of the whiff and the funky zest invading my mouth. Though less acidic than Kayla’s perspiration, the flowery essence and soapy sting from her baked-on stockings became undesirable in its own right after enough time spent squeezing my lips against that wall of hardy feminine skin.

            It wasn’t long before my neck became sore, and I was still on the heel of her first foot: a whole other appendage to go. In time Grace silently accepted my progress on this lower quadrant of her ped, and let the ovular tower ease onto the instep, allowing me full access to the rest of her foot’s underside. Despite the ache in my shoulders and mouth, there was no room for error here, so I ignored the need for rest and kept at it, moving on my hands and knees onward and upward along the slope of Grace’s sole.

            There was far more ground to cover here, varied in its hilly shapes and doughier texture. Since the arch of Grace’s foot was so much softer, it didn’t feel quite as much like a jab in the jaw every time I leapt in for another kiss, which was a small blessing in the midst of an otherwise trying situation. This was more like slapping my face against a wall of wet clay, as opposed to cured leather. Unfortunately, that advantage was soon forgotten in favor of my mouth’s exhaustion. I could scarcely hold a pucker any longer, after having delivered more than one hundred quick yet aggressive kisses to my in-law’s mammoth sole. I’d had a few intense make-outs in my life, most of them with Ashley, but that bar had now been grossly elevated by this barbaric snogging session with Grace’s foot, of all things. How the hell did David manage this every day? Gradually my form went slack, and I was simply bouncing my ruddy face off the giantess’s creamy, velvety-yielding sole without really kissing. It didn’t take long to receive a performance review.

            “Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable,” she sighed. “It’s like you’ve never had to kiss a foot before in your life. When we both know how very untrue that is. You may think I’m willing to tolerate laziness and contempt, David, but I’m not. A bargain is a bargain. And you’re not keeping up your end right now.”

            Grace ran her fingers in exasperation through her long golden locks, tossing them over her shoulder, then leaned toward the ottoman, and me. Both feet shifted, and I was half-certain she was about to use them to pound me into hamburger, but instead she retracted each off the stool, slamming heel-first into the carpet below out of sight. This left just me, on my knees, looking reverently into the humongous looming countenance of my clearly-dissatisfied new mistress. I saw so much of my fiancé in Grace’s lovely features, which made it all the more unnerving to see them contorted by so much annoyance and even anger over something as trivial as a kissing massage delivered by a helpless four-inch-tall servant.