Anime Mistress And Slave Foot Fetish

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Anime Mistress And Slave Foot Fetish
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(Authors Note: Ay this is porn yall. Like straight up smut. Fun fact. I don't write anything I do while horny ever since Footslave to Sadists cause it makes me write worse in my opinion. But when I haven't been able to write in a month or two, ideas back up and ya boy can't purge them through writing. Hence, this wierd Harley Quinn smut story. It's gross and odd. Enjoy.) "Now be careful with this one! This is where ya always mess it up okay?" Harley said as she wiggled her fingers over the switchboard panel. She wiggled in her seat a bit, feeling the wet slimy sheen of sweat and steam slowly cooking her rump in the heated seat that was being smashed and malformed beneath the wide jiggle cheeks of the clown queen of Gotham. She already knew which button to press but she liked putting on a show. Call it the entertainer in her but she enjoyed seeing his reactions to almost every little thing she did. Then again, that was probably the reason she hadn't just put two in his chest and left him to rot on the side of a freeway overpass. It had crossed her mind sure, but he was still fun to her, and the things he would do to make sure she didn't kill him were also fun. So Harley Quinn decided to keep him around, her own personal entertainment system for whenever the boredom of luls in crime made her long for her days of boring psychiatry. Though…in a way this could be considered an experiment in psychiatry. With that thought in mind and a little giggle at the though Harley stopped playing and pressed down on one button staring longingly through the glass as she held it down. On the other side of the glass though, that was another story entirely. Bound to a chair with bright red ribbon and a red and black diamond checkered panel gag kept his mouth sealed shut, a wide goofy clown smile drawn across it in running red paint, a series of "Ha's" coming from the mouth while there person wearing the gag bashed his head against the padded head rest as tears came from his bloodshot and frantic eyes. Some may have thought he was screaming, and they would be right. No one would hear it though of course, the panel gag did a good job of silencing him, but never one to take precautions, Harley had also been kind enough to give him further gagging in the form of a pair of long black stockings she had folded inside out. She giggled at the memory, watching him bang on the glass as she stuck her tongue out at him when she made him watch the 6 hour jog she took after she told him she would be gaging him with them. The way he begged her to stop running made her tingle just remembering it. Now though, he was trying to knock himself unconscious it seemed as the small nozzle he was seated in front of began hissing anew and a slightly green mist could be seen shooting into the thrashing sweating man's face. It seemed something akin to horse blinders on either side of the padded head rest made it so he couldn't actually turn his head at all, simply move it back and forth. A tiny bit of freedom she delighted in watching him hold onto as a way to keep his sanity. The substance being pumped into his face was a fun little concoction she used quite often. A mixture of sweat cultivated from the high heels of her friend and part time lover Poison Ivy. But that wouldn't be enough, so a tiny bit of Joker Gas had been also infused into it. The benefit of this was that each sniff or huff of the pungent scent of dirt and composting vegetables also played with his mind. While Joker Gas usually made a victim go mad as they laughed themselves to death, a dose this tiny would likely create a sense of euphoric joy. This made Harley bite her lip a bit as she watched the naked slave's cock straining against the tiny metal ring around the base. "Harley's Meat Wand" etched into it with a puckered pair of lips as a constant reminder of who controlled his most intimate place. There was no chance of him actually getting relief, the tiny ring made sure of that. Which meant while he choked on the admittedly vile scent of her besties heel sweat, he couldn't control himself as he burned with arousal, and choked in disgust. Which meant he had failed her test…again. Not that he was actually meant to pass, this was just a fun game for her and the ending was always failure for her toy. It was a twisted part of the game they were both very much aware of. Likely the reason he was crying. That or the smell was too much again. "Hey there mister! I know ya ain't getting all hot and bothered bout my best babes stinky feet right? You know full well you belong to ME mista, and it looks like ya gotta be reminded of that! Again." She said through the speaker and let go of the button signifying Ivy's foot stench and standing up from her stool, walking over to the pane of glass that separated them. He wanted to shake his head no but even that had been stripped from him by his bondage. Instead he screamed into his gag as Harley turned around and presser her doughy fat ass against the glass, pressing hard as it smashed against the transparent surface and slowly eclipsed the lower half of her body from view and making the captive groan and pull hard on his bondage as a horrible case of blue balls burned his soul, while the sane part of his brain wanted to vomit as the glass suddenly began to entirely fog over from the muggy swampy condition of her jiggling clown ass leaked through the latex condensed on the glass warning him of how rotten she had made her rump during this torture. She slid it back and forth with a loud squeaking sound before eventually pulling away and drew a heart in the condensation, a massive imprint of her butt cheeks above it further taunting her entertainment. He hated this game. She had a nice little switchboard of collected smells she found particularly nasty. Sweat from Ivy Ivy's heels, cultured bacteria from a swab of Blackfire's tongue, the scent inside the rear of Catwoman's suit after a night of thievery, and of course, Harley. You see at the end of the day, that's what this was all about. With a mixture of Joker Gas and her own body, Harley was conducting an experiment to see if she could make someone entirely obsessed with her body, while still utterly repulsed by her. Which meant he had to sniff everything from her pits, to her farts, to whatever was growing on the insole of her costumes boots. She swore she saw it move once, but that was neither here nor there. By the end of the first seven months of constant and different games tortures and changes to his enviroment Harley could have him bricked up just by picking toe jam from between her toes and rubbing it under his nose. Something she delighted in doing during meal times when he was tied to the chair. During this game though, Harley would have him held steady and press buttons on a switch board to pump some of her collected smells into her entertainment's face. The catch was, he was only allowed to be aroused by HER scents. Of course she was cheating, every scent was laced with the Joker Gas which meant every scent drove him wild which meant he would always suffer a penalty. But that's what made it funny. Harley's favorite comedy, on 24/7 with whatever program she liked. Besides, after almost a year and a half of this scent torture and denial, just about anything would make him aroused as proven by Harley's fat sweaty clown ass against the glass making him feel like he was going to pass out in arousal, and his gag reflex reminding him she had started today's session by saying she hadn't wiped today. With that taunt out of the way Harley flipped a switch as a familiar sound of the vents kicking on activated. He could already feel his eyes getting heavy as the gas made to knock him unconscious took effect. He was sure he'd wake up in some other awful position but that was just what happened when Harley was involved. Harley shot him a wink and gave her hips a wiggle as he slumped over. Even now Harley couldn't help but smirk at how his dick strained while unconscious. She had surely fucked his brain beyond repair but the fact he hated it so much while still would have given just about anything for her to jerk him off woth her cheesy disgusting feet made her laugh with manic glee. She walked out of sight of the window, his only view outside the room and retrieved a gas mask and entered the 42 digit code to enter his cell and home. As she entered the room she shivered a bit. She always kept the room A cool 31 degrees as to make sure that his naked body was always shivering. If he wanted warmth he would have to curl up in bed, a bed which was directly under a vent constantly pumping air through a pair of her old Psychiatrist pumps and sheets washed once weekly in her bath water. This meant that sleeping or otherwise escaping the cold meant essentially sleeping with your face pressed into the inside of her skintight latex suit. She had put up posters of herself in spots around the room. Pinups of her body fresh off a workout with shots of her wide red and sludge coated clown feet held up to the camera, her spreading her cheeks and revealing her puckering shiny rosebud, and even one right next to his bed of her playing with the head of a dildo in her mouth while her sweaty tits wrapped around it. All further tools to play with his male arousal and further make his brain obsessed with her body. Other fun features included the table and bondage chair where she would feed him one meal a day, sometimes two. The meal was, as expected, vile. She would often prepare the meal on the other side of the glass so he could watch. Sometimes it would be watching her create a puree as she chewed his food and spat it in an ever growing pile on another plate. Sometimes she would pull turkey from between her sweaty ass cheeks and bread from the insole of her boots and make a sandwich. She snickered internally at the sound he made when he watched her eat that entire Sunday before she left saying "Don't worry ya pretty little empty head. I'm bringin' it back after my tummy has turned it from vanilla to chocolate hahahahaha!" cackling as she left. Now though, she had to focus. She went through the process of untying him from the chair and dragging him elsewhere in the room. She debated the spanking stocks so she could paint his ass as red as hers in latex. But decided she would end today's show with a little bit of contact. Something she often starved him of choosing instead to use smells and visual teasing to torment him. She wanted him to lust for a chance to physically touch her, and then hate it when he did. Which is why she instead bound him spread eagle on his bed, glad she was wearing the gas mask as she moved the still damp sheets fresh from the wash. One by one she bound his arms and legs to the four corners of the post. She snickered as she watched him twitch, likely the victim of another nightmare about her. She made him tell her every one in full detail. It gave her ideas. Ideas she knew he'd hate given his nightmare fueled brain thought of them. And this? This was one such idea, one that required two things, a rotating massager, and her to peel of her slimy sweaty latex pants. She wiggled them down, as she used her thumbs to hook the waistline. The amount of sweat she had gathered help lubricate the fabric as her ass molded around it, the squishy cushion pale and soft as a newborn baby, yet filled with enough fat to swallow her entertainments head and then some. The gas mask once again proved useful as the goggle potion fogged up quickly from the steam released as she finished sliding the pants down. She pressed a finger into the cheek as it sank deep into the sweaty flesh, then gave it a loud slap that woke her victim from his rest with a gagged yelp of fear. "Heya there! Now I hope ya didn't think I was just gonna keep blasting ya with ma little thing-a-majig. It's been so long since we had us a good heart to heart. Or maybe, cheek to cheek would be more fitting." She said before she burst out laughing, giving her hips a wiggle as her cheeks jiggle with her, drops of sweat raining down as the man began to yank the ropes tying him every direction he could to get out from underneath her. Then he went still in fear as he saw her hold up the massager. "Now let's make ya dreams come true huh? PUCKER UP!" She said as she suddenly jumped up, and stuck her legs out horizontally. The full force of Harley Quinn's bare sweaty ass came down like a meteor transfixed on ending all life. Instead it just landed on her victim's face with a wet plop and slap as his head was swallowed by the slippery cheeks of her rump. His body sized against the rope reaching for her body to try and fight her off but the ropes were short enough to keep his hands just far enough away from her body to feel the extreme warmth from within the latex. The scent was as repulsive. The remnants of bowl movements, trapped flatulence that has only been allowed to stew within the thick cheeks condensing with the sweat into a rank scent and taste like liquefied methane that made tears run down his face and vomit reach the back of this throat. Sadly he wouldn't get that chance as suddenly his back arched as high as it could making Harley start laughing again, her butt bouncing and smearing more grime into his senses. His body's visceral reaction a response to Harley forcing the rotating massager against the head of his groin holding it tight against the throbbing member granting no relief but intense stimulation as she got comfy on his face. "Now buckle up mista entertainment, I got a lotta compliments about my big booty from lotsa boys but only you get ta touch it. Ain't you lucky, and you're gonna touch it just like this for the next, mmmmm, three hours?" She said as she suddenly began to rapidly spin the massager around the head of his dick and cackled at the renewed screams and struggles the increased forced pleasure brought. By now he was a blue valley dog panting into her rump and likely snorting every drop of her putrid ass sweat while his cock twitched like crazy, only getting a quick flick and more vibrations as a reply. "Then ima fix you up a nice big dinner. Just kiddin' I chewed a pack of gum and then shoved it in my boot last night so ima make you eat all of that. Then I think tonight I'll let ya sleep with the vr headset on. You wanna fall asleep to me farting in ya face all night, or to the sweat and toe jam dripping foot tease!" She said, dooming her victim to a night in constant disgusting visual and audible overstimulation. As her victim likely contemplated his new day of new sufferings Harley delivered the finishing blow that would surely hammer home the night in store. Her victim heard a loud exaggerated swallowing sound, that was quickly followed by a sound like an iceberg cracking. A deep crunching gurgling sounding like it was bubbling from the depths of the ocean's trenches. "Oop, looks like that stool softena is starting to work. Get ready butt boy, cause yer gonna be sniffin up breakfast, lunch and dinner!" She cackled as what cam only be referred to as a wave of smog suddenly forced its way through her anus in the form of a rank fart. Her cheeks wobbled bit at the catastrophic force with which the methane assaulted her victim's face and she blew a breath of hot air onto his groin as she assaulted it, laughing herself near tears at the animalistic guttural sounds of raw disgust at the lactose and meaty fueled brass she was shooting from her asshole, and the deep throaty moans of never ending arousal that she had forced her entertainment to feel endlessly. She would probably keep this up until the second…no third time he passed out before strapping him down for the night with the headset. And maybe, if traffic was bad tonight, she might just spend the night. She could always use a hug pillow...and a fart filter. She was going to be gassy tonight.
Finally free from the torture at the feet of Morgana our protagonist hopes to find some relief. But when the maid tells the Ruechilds about how she caught him and they put two and two together to find out he attempted to escape them, well it can only mean one thing. It's time for an obedience lesson. Had a lot of fun writing the next part to this series. Been a while since I wrote it but it felt like riding a bike getting back into each characters mindsets. Hope you enjoy it
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Hours. That's how long I was shackled to the floor being tortured horribly by the family's twisted fucking maid. Hours of feet so coated in sweat and grime it was like she had a second skin, a second skin that had been smeared and wiped all over my face and my tongue covering it in what can only described as the purest form of foot funk. Hours of my testicles being scorched burned and beaten by a cattle prod over and over while being subjected to the downright vomit inducing feet. Hours of being brought to the brink of a somewhat blissful orgasm over and over and over again but never quite reaching it before writhing and screaming in agony. And hours of watching Morgan’s face switch from deadpan and emotionless to filled with a sadistic glee that easily rivaled that of the family as she tortured him with no mercy.
I’m not sure what I felt was joy necessarily but it was definitely something better than what I was currently feeling as I heard the sound of the front door to the mansion opening up. Morgan stopped her current electrocution of my exposed sack to look over to the stairway. She took one quick look down at me bitterly before she started to rise from her seat standing on my chest and forcing what little breath i had in me from my lungs. Glancing down at me with a blank expression on her face she coldly spoke down.
“I’ll be telling the Ruechilds about whatever it was you had planned and they will be the ones to decide what to do with you. With any luck we will be having a much longer talk when I get back.” She says as she walks up my body like a carpet, each step plastering me with a footprint of sweat and grime causing me to gag as she steps on my face. You would think I would be used to it from the amount of her filth plastered and smeared onto my face and yet each time her foot came near me I couldn’t help but wretch in agony.
I took the brief moment of reprieve, if I could even call it that with the bitter sour scent of Morgan’s feet still ever present and the taste coating his entire mouth like a layer of paint on a wall, to take a good look on where he stood in his life. All he was now was a pin cushion for the evil family to poke and prod with their disgusting fucking feet. A mother who treated him both kind and cruel and seemed intent on feeding him concoctions made using her dead skin and sweat. An older daughter who wanted to beat and abuse him beneath her powerful legs all while making him feel as low as she possibly can. A youngest daughter who seemed to take genuine childlike joy in subjecting him to games with rules that would make the layman gag at just the sight of it let alone the smell or taste. Not to mention the three maids who all seemed incredibly unstable in their own ways.
I debated what my options were at this point. Honestly they weren’t great, the family had full control over my body, over all of my actions using just their words. There was no way I could fight back, no way I could lash out and attack them to try and make an escape. Even if I could Morgan has displayed physical strength that there was no way I
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