I stood in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t a big change, but I could see something was different. The clothes that had fit my body so snug the day before seemed like they had been worn by someone bigger than me and placed back in my drawers now stretched out.

I decided it wasn’t worth wasting too much time dwelling on and concluded that I must just be tired and headed into the bedroom and then into the main hall of the quarters I was living in for the next two weeks.

As I walked down the stairs heading into the den I could hear the television was on and some movement on the shelves that held the vast collection of movies and television shows the Smith’s owned. As I came to the bottom of the stairs I saw Marta who was dusting the shelves and dvd collection while watching the home shopping channel.

“Hello Ethan,” Marta said with a smile on her face.

“You’re looking well rested.”

I gave a pleasant nod.

“Yes, thank you. I slept very well.”

Marta gave another smile and went back to her cleaning.

I turned to my left, away from Marta, and headed toward the next set of stairs which led to the downstairs where my breakfast would be waiting. As I began my decent, I looked back to see Marta almost staring at me. She noticed I saw her and immediately pretended to be interested in her TV show and dusting. I thought little of it and finished my trip down the flight of stairs and made my way into the kitchen.

My breakfast was pretty uneventful. One of the maids brought me a plate with the usual breakfast items such as: eggs, bacon, sausage and two pancakes. To the side of my plate she placed a glass of orange juice as well as bottled water and a small ramekin of syrup for the pancakes.

It didn’t take long to eat and I found my way to the downstairs den where I found the same maid that had brought me my breakfast. She was busy cleaning so I decided not to bother her by turning on the TV and headed back up the stairs in hopes that Marta would be done and I could watch television in there.

At the top of the stairs Marta appeared to have finished her cleaning but was still watching her show while sitting on the couch rubbing her own feet. Through her peripheral, she noticed me and almost jumped.

“Oh, I am so sorry. I thought nobody would be up here for a few hours.” Marta said, noticeably embarrassed by being caught not working.

“No, no, please don’t get up on my account. I was just going to see if you were done in here because one of the other maids is working in the downstairs den.” I told her, trying to help calm the very nervous woman.

“By the way, do you know if Lori has woken up yet or if she is still sleeping?”

Marta looked at the TV as if momentarily distracted and looked back to me, “Oh, uh, Lori is gone. She had a girl’s day with some of her friends planned. Don’t worry, Mr. Smith knew about it and has assigned one of the security guards to be with them. Today is a day for you. And as for me, I am leaving.”

“You don’t need to leave.”

“What are you watching?” I said sitting down at the end of the couch opposite of Marta who was still massaging her feet.

“Oh, just the shopping channel. I like to see all of the things I will never own.” Marta said before laughing.

“I know the feeling.” I said as to show I often found myself in the same boat.

“So, what’s wrong, did you sprain your ankle?” I questioned, now actually curious.

Marta broke her focus on the TV to meet my eyes, “No, nothing like that. My feet just get so tired from working 16 hour days. I just stop from time to time to rub them. I never have time to get a massage or pedicure done.” Marta giggled to herself as the thought of her getting a pedicure amused her.

“Well, I’m no expert, but I have pretty strong hands, if you want I could give you a massage.”

I truly didn’t think anything of it as feet were just always feet to me. But I could see the surprise on Marta’s face as if what I was offering was taboo.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate. You are Mr. Smith’s employee and I don’t think I want to torture you with my feet.” Marta stated, very embarrassed at this point.

“Nonsense, you are one of his employee’s too. And seeing as how I have nobody to hang out with today, I would be more than happy to help.”

Marta was a very pretty woman. She was obviously of Hispanic descent, darker beautiful skin, long black hair, brown eyes, and legs that looked to belong to a model. Marta may not of had a lot of time to herself, but you would never know it by how well she took care of herself. It was even more obvious when she hesitantly placed her feet in my lap.

Her toes were proportioned perfectly going from the big toe and descending down to the smallest. Her toenails remained unpainted and kept filed at what most would consider a perfect length with just some white at the tips. All of this paled in comparison to the wrinkled soles of her feet that turned out to be incredibly silky smooth.

As my hands pressed against her feet and my fingers wrapped around her toes, I found myself taken aback. I had massaged an ex-girlfriends feet before. But Marta’s, though older size 7 feet, as I would soon find out, were infinitely nicer. I worked my fingers into the ball, heel, and sole of Marta’s foot feeling as though I should treat them like they were a delicate thousand year old artifact.

“Mmmmm” I heard Marta moan as my fingers worked their way around her foot and eventually to her toes.

“That feels incredible.” Marta sighed as she leaned back and closed her eyes.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her feet and could barely hear the TV. I had never had a foot fetish, but something about Marta’s feet threatened to change that in me. I was becoming mesmerized by this Hispanic Goddess’s feet. This woman, who was probably twice my age, was unknowingly taking control of my body simply by letting me massage her feet.

The way her sole was just ever so slightly lighter than the upper half of her foot, and how her sole wrinkled as she scrunched her toes began to drive me into a frenzy. Immediately, I became aware of the growing erection in my pants. It wasn’t long before I was no longer massaging Marta’s foot in my hands that I had it lifted in the air and only inches away from my face.

It wasn’t because I didn’t want her to feel my erection. I was sure my jeans would help to keep that under control, it was because I was being drawn to her feet. I wanted them close to my face. I wanted them on my face. I wanted to smell them…to taste them.

Marta’s moans continued as I placed the foot I had been working on back into my lap and lifted her other foot up. I could tell by the moans and her constant toes scrunching and stretching that she was really enjoying this experience at least as much as I was.

I don’t know how it happened or even if it was real, but as I massaged I felt something against my lips. A scent I had never known before filled my nostrils. I felt as if I would have an orgasm right on the spot. I was hypnotized, I must have been.

As the gentle, loving kiss came to a horribly sad end, my eyes opened to see Marta’s foot that I was massaging. It had just the slightest gleam of saliva that ran across several wrinkles of her sole.

My eyes widened. I had just mistakenly taken my daydream too far and actually kissed Marta’s foot.

“Maybe she didn’t notice.” I thought to myself.

 But that’s when my stomach welled up in my throat as I realized, the moaning had stopped.

I sat for what seemed like an hour but actually was much closer to 3 seconds before finally forcing myself to turn my head to the left to see Marta staring at me with a look on her face that seemed to be as surprised as I’m sure mine was.

The surprise soon turned to a smile on her face. I couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad. But what came next would have brought me to my knees if I had been standing or given me a heart-attack should I have been an older man.

Marta pulled her foot from my hands and ever so slowly, moved it toward my face. Her smiled continued as her foot slowly started to cover my vision. I got one final look at Marta’s face before she disappeared behind her foot.

As the skin pressed against my face I heard a giggle.

“So young man, you were enjoying the massage as much as I was?” Marta said with a much stronger tone than I had heard before. She no longer sounded like a sweet lady that kept things in order in a chaotic house. She was a strong woman that had me wrapped up around her finger and knew it.

“I didn’t think I would find a foot boy in the man I was supposed to be working for. But these things happen.”

Marta slowly slid her foot down my face, allowing her toes to run down my forehead, past my eyes and nose, and stop at my lips.

Marta’s other foot was sitting firmly on my crotch.

Marta sighed and wiggled her toes on my lips.

“Since you’re not saying anything or stopping this, I assume you want this.” Marta looked back to me as she spoke.

I hadn’t moved through the whole experience. I just sat there, pitching a tent in my pants and breathing in the sweet foot scent of Marta. Without realizing it, my lips puckered and I kissed the big toe that sat directly on my lips.

Marta smiled and pressed her toes against my lips and pushed her foot forward, causing me to fall backwards on the couch.

“Not now. I have too much work to get done. Get my shoes on.” Marta ordered while pointing to her shoes on the ground.

I couldn’t feel my body, my limbs felt useless. But somehow, I ended up on the ground in front of her and had lifted her socks, offering them to her feet.

Marta slipped her foot into the one sock and as I offered the other, her second foot entered it as well.

She then placed her socked foot against my forehead and pushed me to the ground and laughed.

“This is going to be so much fun. I never thought I would have someone so in love with my feet before.” Marta giggled like a schoolgirl as she spoke.

I sat up as quick as I could and lifted her shoe. On the sole of the shock sneaker, I saw a number 7 followed by small the small letters, “U.S. Women’s Size”. After placing both shoes on and tying the laces, Marta stood and looked down on me who was still sitting Indian Style looking up at her.

“As you are now aware, I have a very dominant side. Unfortunately, because of the asshole and his bitch of a wife I work for, I almost never get to explore it. But they are gone and you have awakened that side of me that I had long thought I had lost.” Marta stated.

“You will be in my room tonight at midnight! I want more attention to my feet. Is that understood?” Marta said with a firm but still good-woman look on her face.

I looked back down to her feet, now inside her shoes.

Was I really going to do this? Was I going to spend all of my time at this woman’s feet? The sane side of me screamed at me to say no. I knew that my asserting my authority, Marta would once again remember that she was working for me, and I could make the next two weeks miserable for her. But the apparently foot-crazed side of me was whispering dirty things into my ear of the wonderful things that would come from submitting to this woman.

I simply nodded my head. And after hearing a giggle and a soft, dark skinned hand run against my cheek, I was left alone in the den with my thoughts.

Needless to say, I was exhausted from the experience and found myself in my bathroom to get a shower and relax. But as I looked into the mirror, I realized that the top of the mirror, which normally kept me from seeing my hair without bending down, was offering me a full view of the top of my head.

Normally, I would have thought little of it, but after this morning’s uncertainty, and my clothes being noticeably looser than they were just a few hours ago, I frantically searched through the cabinets for some sort of measuring tape.

After 20 minutes of searching, I found a flexible 10’ measure tape used for sewing in a box in the closet and measured myself. It was then that my fears were realized. I dropped the measuring tape and backed up to the wall. I had always been just barely shy of 6’. But the numbers 5’8” kept circling in my head.

This is impossible! It has to be!” I whispered to myself.