The Servant's Devotion

I've known Katie since preschool. We’ve been inseparable for over a decade, but nothing could have prepared me for the moment my secret foot fetish collided with our lifelong friendship. That night, when she caught me staring at her socks, I thought I’d ruined everything. Instead, she smiled—and offered me her foot. What started as a nervous confession spiraled into something neither of us expected: her slow awakening to the power she holds over me. Now, I kneel at her feet not just in desire, but in devotion. And she’s only beginning to realize what she can make me do.

The Servant's Devotion

I've known Katie since preschool. We’ve been inseparable for over a decade, but nothing could have prepared me for the moment my secret foot fetish collided with our lifelong friendship. That night, when she caught me staring at her socks, I thought I’d ruined everything. Instead, she smiled—and offered me her foot. What started as a nervous confession spiraled into something neither of us expected: her slow awakening to the power she holds over me. Now, I kneel at her feet not just in desire, but in devotion. And she’s only beginning to realize what she can make me do.

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the sink.

Katie’s foot is still warm in my memory. The red polish I painted last night gleams in my mind like a warning.

My phone buzzes. A photo from her: bare feet on white carpet, toes curled. Caption: Need you after school.

I don’t reply. I can’t. Not after what I did this morning.

I bought the ring.

Platinum. $70. Charged to my mom’s card.

It sits in my pocket now, cold and heavy. Proof.

The bell rings. I walk to class like nothing happened.

But she’s already there, leaning against her locker, one sock pulled up just below the knee. She sees me. Smiles.

“Did you get it?”

Her voice is soft. Not demanding. Not yet.

I nod. Can’t speak.

She steps closer. “Show me.”

I reach into my pocket. Pull out the small black box. Open it.

She doesn’t touch it. Just looks at me.

“You spent that much?”

“Yes.”

“Because I asked.”

“Yes.”

A beat. The hallway noise fades.

Then she lifts her foot onto my shoe. Presses down slightly.

“Kneel.”

I drop.

Her sock brushes my face.

“Good boy,” she says. “Now carry me to class.”

I slide my arms under her legs. Lift her.

She wraps her arms around my neck. Laughs quietly.

People stare. No one says anything.

At the classroom door, she whispers, “Tonight, you’re painting them again. And you’ll kiss every toe before I put my shoes on.”

I nod.

She pats my cheek. “Worth every dollar.”

The bell rings.

I stand. Follow her inside.