Themes: foot fetish, foot worship, femdom, bdsm, submission, humiliation, degradation, psychological humiliation, cucking, cuckolding, chastity, submission. Goddess, feet slave,

Link to part 1

Tim stared at Sarah's text for the twentieth time that afternoon:

"Heyyy study buddy! Bio exam's gonna be brutal... meet @ my room? 7pm? 🤓👣"

That footprint emoji. It had to be deliberate. For three sleepless nights, he'd replayed the party scene in his mind – the beer, her pristine white shoes, that honey-sweet command in her voice. Every time he thought about it, his tongue would automatically seek out the phantom taste of leather and submission.

"Just breathe," he muttered, adjusting his carefully chosen blue button-down shirt. After seven outfit changes, he'd settled on something he hoped looked casually presentable. The walk to Greek Row felt endless, each step bringing him closer to what could either be heaven or humiliation.

Sarah's door flew open before he could knock. "Tim! Oh my god, you're literally a lifesaver – I'm totally dying over cellular respiration right now!"

His rehearsed greeting died in his throat. Sarah had traded her cheerleader uniform for impossibly tiny pink cotton shorts that showed off her toned legs, and an oversized USC crewneck that somehow made her look both adorably comfortable and devastatingly sexy. Her blonde hair was twisted into a messy bun, exposing the elegant curve of her neck.

"I, uh, actually made some study guides," he managed, proud that his voice remained steady. "They're color-coded by topic, and I added cross-references to—"

"Of course you did, you absolute genius!" She grabbed his wrist, pulling him inside. "This is why you're my favorite study buddy. I've got snacks and everything!"

Her room was exactly what he'd imagined – fairy lights casting everything in a warm glow, polaroids of laughing sorority sisters covering one wall, and a meticulously organized shoe rack that probably cost more than his semester's tuition. The air smelled like vanilla and something uniquely, intoxicatingly Sarah.

"Make yourself comfy," she said, bouncing onto her bed. "The desk is useless for studying together."

Tim perched carefully on the pink satin comforter, trying to take up minimal space. Sarah immediately sprawled out like she owned the world – which, he supposed, she kind of did.

"Okay, so," she grinned, "explain the Krebs cycle like I'm five?"

"Well," Tim started, finding his confidence in the familiar territory of academics, "think of it like a really efficient recycling plant. Each stage breaks down different components, kind of like sorting different materials..."

To his surprise, Sarah proved to be an engaged and intelligent study partner. She asked precise questions and made connections he hadn't even considered. For almost an hour, they fell into a comfortable rhythm of explanation and discussion.

"Wait," Sarah interrupted his explanation of ATP synthesis, "so the proton gradient is basically like a biological battery?"

"Exactly!" Tim's face lit up. "The membrane potential creates this stored energy that—"

"God, you're cute when you're being all smart," Sarah giggled, cutting him off. "Like, how are you not dating anyone?"

Tim felt his face flush. "I, uh... I guess I'm not really most girls' type."

"Mmm, I wouldn't be so sure about that," Sarah mused, stretching her legs out. "Some girls appreciate a guy who's more... service-oriented."

Before Tim could process that comment, Sarah let out a dramatic sigh. "Speaking of service... cheerleading was brutal today. My feet are killing me." She shifted, extending her legs toward his lap. "You wouldn't mind helping a girl out, would you? Since you were so... thorough... the other night?"

Tim's mouth went dry as her feet came to rest in his lap. Up close, they were absolute perfection – high, elegant arches that curved like Gothic architecture, a masterpiece of feminine design. Her toes were perfectly proportioned, each one slightly shorter than the last in a flawless gradient, topped with a fresh pink polish that matched her shorts. Her skin was flawless, transitioning from a creamy peach to soft pink at the pads of her feet, with subtle undertones that made them look almost luminescent in the warm lighting. Her French pedicure enhanced the natural grace of her toes – each one perfectly shaped and sized, decreasing in a mesmerizing gradient that drew his eye again and again.

"I mean," she wiggled her toes playfully, "you seemed pretty good with your hands at the party. And mouth, for that matter..."

"I... yes, of course," Tim managed, his fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around her right foot. The warmth of her skin sent electricity through his palms. He pressed his thumb into her arch, earning a soft moan that made his whole body tingle.

"Oh my god," she sighed, "that's literally perfect. How are you actually better at this than the guys on the football team?"

Finding a burst of courage, Tim quipped, "Maybe because I actually listen when someone says 'softer' or 'harder'?"

Sarah's laugh was genuine and bright. 

When she laughed at his joke, she scrunched her toes, creating adorable little wrinkles across the tops of her feet that made his fingers itch to trace them.

"Tim! Look who found his sass! I love it!" She flexed her toes against his hands, the movement somehow both innocent and deliberate. "But you're right – you are very good at... taking direction."

His stomach flipped at her tone. Her feet shifted slightly in his lap, and he silently prayed she couldn't feel his growing response to the situation.

"You know what's interesting?" she mused, watching him work her left arch, "Most guys try so hard to be all alpha male, especially around me. But you're just… eager to make me happy, authentically yourself. I'm sure you'd be the first to admit it."

Every few moments, she would flex her feet, the muscles in her arches dancing beneath his fingers, making it increasingly difficult to focus on biology.

"well,... maybe second to admit" Tim joked nervously

Sarah burst out laughing, "That's funny!" she seemed genuinely caught off guard by his humor. "

"But seriously," she pressed her feet more firmly into his lap, causing him to stifle a gasp, "... it's hard not to appreciate a guy who knows his place. I mean, his strengths."

The correction was casual, almost throwaway, but it hit Tim like a physical blow. Sarah's smile turned knowing, and she wiggled her perfect toes against his trembling hands. In one fluid motion, her right foot left his lap and pressed against his cheek, turning his face toward the textbook.

"Now," she said sweetly, toes curling slightly against his burning skin, "about those electron transport chains..."