Ms. Kohlman was my favorite teacher. She was very intelligent, very helpful, and quite attractive, even as a woman in her forties. I was very good in her history class, but because of one partner assignment, where my partner had totally messed up the work we did, I got a bad grade and my history average lowered to a B+. I was angry, so I went and found Ms. Kohlman.
She is one of the heads of the high school, so she often has people in her office, but today there was no one except her. It was pretty late after school, and there weren’t very many other people still there. It was safe to assume we were alone.
She welcomed me in, and invited me to sit on the sofa.
“So what’s the problem, Alex?”
I explained to her my frustration about my grade, and how I thought I did not deserve this but higher. She explained how the numbers added up to give me a B+, even though every other assessment I had turned in had been an A. She said she couldn’t change the grade. I begged her to, but she was firm. I finally decided to try a different method.
“Is there anything I could do for you that you would like?”
She raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”
“Anything you want. I’m all yours.”
“Like what, like a slave?”
I was slightly taken aback with her use of this word so suggestively. But she seemed to be getting in to it, so I continued.
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“And you want to be my slave so I will raise your grade?”
“Yes.” I might as well be honest.
“What are you willing to do?”
“Whatever you need.”
She smiled, and looked down at her boots. They had fairly high heels and could easily have been making her feet sore. I could see where this was going. She looked back to me.
“You’d have to keep this a secret, understand?”
“Now, I’ve been wearing these boots all day, and my feet hurt. Would you give me a foot massage?”
I was beginning to feel a little hard down there, and tried to suppress it. I had seen Ms. Kohlman’s feet before, and they were very nice. They had soft, lovely soles, nice toes, a small bunion, but nothing unattractive.
I stood up.
“Sure I will. Where do you want me to-”
She cut me off. “I’ll come over and sit on the sofa, and you get a chair.”
She was beginning to order me around, I kind of liked it. She got up from her chair and sat on the sofa. I pulled over her desk chair, and sat in it right in front of her.
Ms. Kohlman placed her boot-clad feet on my lap.
“Take my shoes off.”
I unzipped her boots and placed them on the ground.
“And the socks.”
I pulled off her nice white socks, exposing her very nice feet.
I began running my thumbs over her soles and toes. I focused on her right foot, massaging it delicately but firmly. She loved it, ever so often ordering me to press harder or go up or down her arch. She suddenly raised her head.
“My leg’s getting sore from propping it up like this. Why don’t you get on the floor?”
Wow, she was ordering me to sit on the floor and massage her feet. I was becoming her slave. I slid the chair away and sat cross-legged on the floor. I picked up her foot again, and resumed the massage.
After about ten minutes of me massaging Ms. Kohlman’s foot, she raised the other one.
“This one now.”
I took her foot in my hands and massaged that one, too. This all went on for about forty-five minutes, until I said I had to go because my dad was picking me up.
“One more thing, Alex,” she called to me as I was about to exit the door, “I won’t make you do much more than massage my feet from time to time, but when I tell you to, you will do it, understand? And whatever else I tell you to do. I will raise your grade and maybe even other grades if you’re good. Be in here tomorrow at 4.”
With that, she waved me off, and I left.
Tomorrow at 4, I entered her office again. She was sitting at her desk, working on her computer. She looked at me.
“Ah, there you are. Now, I realize yesterday I didn’t get much work done when you were rubbing my feet, so this is what we’re going to do today and from now on: you will sit underneath the desk and massage my feet and I will keep on working. Understand?”
“Good, now get under here, my feet are killing me.”
I put my backpack down and crawled under the surprisingly spacious desk. She had already removed her shoes and socks, and her lovely bare feet lay in front of me. She didn’t bother to say anything, she simply slid her foot into my hands and I went to work massaging her feet.
After fifteen minutes she thrust forward her other foot and I resumed the role of slave boy rubbing feet under the desk.
These meetings went on for the rest of the year. It got to the point where it was such a frequent occurrence that I would simply enter her office and put my backpack down and she would slide back a bit from her desk, without even looking at me. I would crawl under the desk, and begin massaging her bare feet, like the foot slave I was. On the plus side, I got great grades in all my classes.
In May one time, Jessie Cohen, a really hot senior girl, who was good friends with Ms. Kohlman, barged in to her office while we were in one of these “meetings.”
I was just finishing massaging her right foot when she came in. I felt Ms. Kohlman tense when she did.
“Jessie! What is it?”
“My math teacher is trying to give me a D because I play with my hair in class!”
They discussed it for a little bit until Ms. Kohlman invited Jessie to sit on the sofa. And that was when she noticed someone under the desk.
“Um, is there someone under the desk?”
Ms. Kohlman paused for a second, and then slid away from her desk and motioned for me to stand up. I did, and Jessie was quite taken aback.
“You may not tell anyone, but Alex comes here after school sometimes and massages my feet.”
Jessie seemed to understand this, and waved it off. “Oh, it’s fine. I won’t tell anyone, I guess…” She started to have a bit of a glint in her eyes.
“What’s the hesitation?” Ms. Kohlman asked her.
“Well, I won’t tell, if I get a better grade in math.”
“You’re blackmailing me.”
“It should be easy, you know all of them and you can tell them they’re wrong and change my grade!”
“Fine, but you
can’t tell anyone.”
“And a foot massage.”
“I want a foot massage, too. I’ve had a crazy day, and my feet hurt.”
Ms. Kohlman didn’t even look at me.
“Fine, he’ll give you a foot massage.”
“Whenever I come in here?”
“If he’s here, yes.”
I was being sold to this girl. I was just property. But, hey they were both pretty hot.
Ms. Kohlman got up and went and sat on the sofa with Jessie.
“Slave? Sit on the floor and massage our feet.”
Jessie looked at Ms. Kohlman. “He’s your slave?”
“I raise his grades for him, he does whatever I tell him to.”
“Can I order him around, too?”
“When you’re in here, anything.”
Jessie giggled and turned to me. “Kneel.”
I knelt before them. Jessie extended her long, beautiful leg towards me.
“Take off my shoes.”
I removed her boots.
I began to pull off her socks.
“No, with your mouth.”
I looked at Ms. Kohlman in shock.
She replied, “Hey, when you’re our slave, you do whatever we say.”
I gave up and took Jessie Cohen’s sock in my teeth and pulled it off her foot. I did the other one, too, and she wiggled her bare foot in my face.
“Massage my foot, slave.”
I began massaging Jessie Cohen’s beautiful foot.
I rubbed her feet for about twenty minutes, switching feet after ten. Then Ms. Kohlman insisted I rub her feet so I put down Jessie’s and moved to hers.
As I knelt and massaged Ms. Kohlman’s feet, Jessie placed her feet on my shoulder.
“I can use him as a footrest too, right?”
“Whatever you want.” Ms. Kohlman seemed to be enjoying this.
Jessie giggled again. “It’s so much fun having a slave to rub your feet whenever you want. I need one of these.”
what,” Ms. Kohlman said, “You work so hard, Jessie and you do so much for the
school, I’ll let you use him whenever you want.”
I looked up at her. She was actually selling me to Jessie. I was their foot slave. But I got great grades.