Fantasy - A Short Story
by Mehron Mohammadi

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As I crawl into the opulent bedroom of my master on my hands and knees, I look up and take in his incredible beauty.

He lounges on the bed, dressed only in a pair of boxer-briefs that look painted on. His body looks like it was sculpted by a master artist; smooth, tan and lithe, with almost no body hair anywhere except for his impeccably spiked dark hair. Piercing dark eyes now closed complement his incredibly sexy face, with full lips and smooth, clear skin. My eyes travel to his feet, smooth, tan, and unbelievably soft.

My master is pampered and has never seen a day of work in his life, and is used to dominating anyone he chooses. As I crawl to the foot of the bed, I place my head onto the silk sheets before his large, smooth soles, and feel the warmth emanating from their clean godliness. I smother the beautiful morsels with kisses, and I lick up and down his high, perfect arches.

Everything about my master is perfect, and as I lick like the pathetic slave I am, I thank the stars above I have been blessed with such a perfect specimen of godliness and domination. His beautiful lashes begin to flutter to waking, and his dark eyes survey the unworthy slave lapping away attentively at his incredibly soft soles and heels.

With a snap of his fingers, nails perfectly manicured, his slave is lying on his back at the foot of the bed, lengthwise. The master slides down the bed and places his hot, perfect soles onto my waiting stomach and face, using me as the footrest and doormat I am. The master stands, crushing my worthless face beneath his powerful soles, treating me as nothing but a part of the floor.

Although the stretching king upon me is hurting me a bit, I know that this is where I belong, beneath his feet, worshipping him as the princely god he is, and that he deserves better, and that I should be ecstatic that he is giving me the chance to serve him. As if I am nothing, he steps off of me into the kitchen to eat the breakfast I so lovingly prepared. As I crawl across the luxurious carpeting underneath the table to worship his perfect feet and soles, it once again dawns on me: Serving this master, this godly specimen of perfection, being treated as a tool of his complete comfort, and groveling eternally at the feet of this heavenly, sexy prince...

This is where I belong.

I sighed. Everything was right in the world.