RING!

The phone went. It was rather late, and Naomi wondered who it could be calling her up. She picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi... Naomi?"

It was Michael.

"Hi..er.. your phone number was in the history club directory. I kinda wanted to talk about what happened this afternoon."

She definitely had him, she figured. She could hear it in his voice. This gave her even greater self-confidence.

"Sure, why don't you come to my apartment," she said, and gave him the address.

He had thought to just talk to her over the phone about this, but she had indicated a personal meeting too matter-of-factly for him to turn it down.

Not too much later her doorbell rang. She opened the door. She was wearing the same belly shirt as she had been earlier, and some shorts. Her legs were uncovered, and her feet were bare. He was dressed the same way he had been before, though somewhat more sloppily.

"Hi Michael," she said warmly, motioning him inside.

He looked up somewhat shyly. Walking in, he looked around him, but not really taking notice of much.

"Take a seat," she told him, motioning toward a wooden chair.

She sat herself down on the sofa, and put her foot up on the coffee table.

She had thought about this, and was enjoying the slight power game she was playing. He took the seat across from her. Seeing her sit down so carelessly, he was somewhat intimidated by her casual treatment of something that was feeling like a horrible lump in his throat. And there was that lovely foot of hers in such plain view.

"What did you have on your mind, Michael?" she inquired, though she was perfectly aware.

He looked back up at her face.

"What made you ask me about GTS, today?" He asked her, regaining his composure while going on the questioning offensive.

"I just had a hunch that you were into that," she answered.

She slightly moved her foot to regain his attention. Naomi had noticed how GTS and foot worship kind of went hand in hand. It appeared to be true with Michael, in any case. His eyes indeed strayed back to her foot. He had clearly lost the initiative.

"And the way you reacted," she continued "definitely confirmed that for me."

He didn't say anything, for a moment. Not knowing what to say. He had made a plan for this dialogue, but his plan was already dashed asunder.

"Michael. Why don't you just kiss my foot," she said more than asked.

She could feel the overwhelming desire within him to do so. If she just said it like that, she knew he wouldn't be able to resist. He looked somewhat shocked, and was about to say something.

"Go on, just do it," she said, encouragement in her voice.

Her mind was now fully trained on his. It was amazing this link she was now able to make between their minds. She'd never had it so powerfully before.

He knelt down on the far side of the coffee table. He leaned over the table, and his lips gently met the sole of her foot. The tingle struck her like a wave of ice-cold water. It was like the feeling in the stairwell, but far more powerful. He could feel it too, and he gave himself fully into the business of kissing her feet. He closed his eyes, and gave into his submission to her.

Naomi, on the other hand, looked at him intently. Her mind was reading his like an open book. The thoughts were so powerful. Though there was an element of shame involved, she could also tell that this is what he had wanted so desperately for so very long. As she continued to study his mind and his foot service, she also noticed something else. He appeared to be a touch smaller than before – certainly smaller than before they had encountered one another in the stairwell. Was this another element of her mind power?

As if by instinct, she reached out to him with her mind. It was as if she was taking ahold of him telepathically, and pushing him closer to her foot. She owned him!! The tingle grew yet more powerful. Her mind clutched his, and it was evident that this was painful to him, but he had no choice but to continue. He did continue, but the pain grew. Was her foot getting larger? After a few more horrible, yet delightful, moments, he passed out.