Miss Brandon

Very good.

I'm so pleased that you were able to meet me after work again today. I just don't even know what to say. It seems all of these inconvenient late night work parties all seem to happen when you have an obligation with that sweet little fiance of yours. And according to you, you've been feeling so guilty about our last after work session.

You feel so bad for betraying her, for getting down on your hands and knees, which oddly enough you seem so compelled to do right now. Well, I won't mind stopping you. Go ahead. Get down on those hands and knees. If that is where you feel comfortable, of course. There you go. Doesn't that feel nice?

It feels good to just submit. Well, as I was saying, you've just been feeling oh, so guilty about your behavior after work. I'm sure, oh, I'm sure you didn't mention to her the details of our get together, did you? I'm sure you didn't mention to her the way you slid your tongue in and out in between each and every one of my decadent, long, perfect candy toes.

That's right. Mmm. And I bet you haven't mentioned to her how every night ever since you literally find yourself thinking about, dreaming about your bosses, highly arched feet, her gorgeous toes, and the way you hang off of her every word like her heels hang off of her tippity toes. You're obsessed with her little tippies. You want to suck on those little tippies. You want to make love to those souls.

Oh, dear, I see right through you. You don't feel guilty. You don't feel guilty about any of that.

What you feel guilty about is the fact that you don't feel guilty at all. In fact, you want more. You want to worship my feet.

You want to fuck my foot pussy. You don't want to marry her. You want to be enslaved to me. You don't want to remain faithful to your little wifey. You want to worship. You want to obey.

Goddess B. And I don't blame you. Not one little bit. These gorgeous feet own you. They control you. They make you weak. And you want them. You crave them. You crave these souls, these toes more than you ever have her pussy.

And you ever will. Her pussy doesn't make you feel the way your bosses feet do. Her pussy doesn't make you feel like you're high. You want absolute bliss. Like you could disappear into her feet and be happier than you've ever been.

Ever, ever been. That's a very good boy. A good boy who enjoys edging. A good boy who loves to obey. There you go.

Worship those perfect feet. This is where you want to be. You wouldn't trade this for anything, would you? Of course not. Let's not be cruel and keep her waiting. I think that this has gone on long enough, dear.

I think it's time that we just go ahead and end it already. Don't you? Me too. Hello, Becky. Oh, Nikki. I'm so sorry.

I apologize. Yes, I'm here right now. You know it.

And unfortunately, I have some very, very disappointing news. Yes. No, he is in fact working late tonight. Yes, yes.

That isn't the disappointing news, though, although I'm sure you find that to be rather disappointing. No, right now, he's actually on his hands and knees. He's running his tongue in between every one of the wrinkles on my soles and in between my toes.

Yes. It's mermaid pink, if you'd like to know. So sparkly and fun, and he's absolutely obsessed. His eyes are rolling back in his head as he touches himself and my perfect feet at the same time.

He felt that it would be best coming from me, so I've decided to give you a call. Unfortunately, dear, we're going to have to go ahead and cancel that wedding this weekend. I know. My heart breaks for you, Sweet Pea.

It truly does. But his mind, his heart, and his cock are just elsewhere. With me, you see.

Yes. So he won't be making it this weekend. In fact, he'll be traveling with me to my little beach house, where he'll be serving as my little foot slave all weekend long.

And when he's done taking care of all of my needs, and I'm satisfied, then I might allow him to suck my toes as he strokes his cock. But he will literally never fuck you again. He's definitely not going to be marrying you.

In fact, he won't even be employed here anymore. He will strictly be working for me exclusively pro bono, of course, as my dedicated and loyal foot slave. In fact, I might just have a little wedding ceremony for ourselves, allowing him to once and for all dedicate himself to my feet, to the true love of his life. I heard he wrote some vowels for you, and I'm sure they'll translate over perfectly to my divine little feet. But before we go, I'm going to let him tell you bye as he cums to my foot pussy, okay?

Well, well, well, I feel like a million bucks returning from your honeymoon. I knew that that salty air and the sand in between my sexy little toes was exactly what I needed to reinvigorate myself. As a busy, busy boss bitch CEO, I stay rushing around, managing betas like you every day and every once in a while I need a little R &R. So after your cabashing, your cake testing, your engagement party and inevitably canceling the big day all together, your little honeymoon was up for grabs and I bet your big fat little bride probably thought that maybe she would be keeping that honeymoon, maybe her and a gal pal could go and, you know, drown their little sorrows and some drinks and fruity cocktails by the beach.

But that isn't hers to take. I am the one who has put in all the work to train you to be my proper little servant, to serve me, to serve my feet, and to be my general office bitch. You are not my personal assistant.

You are my beta assistant and that comes with far more responsibilities than a regular personal assistant would have. For instance, as soon as we're done with our little meeting, I will be going over all of the shoes, pantyhose, socks and sneakers that I left in your care. I left in your care to make sure that you would see to it that they were properly cleaned, polished, worshipped and cared for. Of course, while I was away on my very special vacation, the honeymoon suite was absolutely perfect. And of course, once I took your accommodations and I upgraded them all to first class for myself, I really rolled out the red carpet.

You know, I exchanged your business class two tickets for one first class ticket. And of course, I made sure that your credit card was on file for the airline, the resort and every excursion that I made. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I made sure that you would be able to pay for it.

I made sure that you would be able to pay for it. I'm the dominant woman who literally controls you and you do it all, all for these delicious boss bitch feet. They make you weak, horny and oh, so excited. You think about Miss B's divine, yummy feet all day, every day and with good reason, Beta.

I've been using these feet to manipulate you and it's been so easy you see. I have literally wrecked your marriage, taken full advantage of you, how I see fit. And now, now there's no wedding, there's no bride, and there was no honeymoon.

Your greedy, cruel boss bitch stole it and she enjoyed it. Look at me, look at how sun-kissed I am, how much more delicious I am after a lovely, lovely, solo honeymoon vacation. Imagine my delight when I walked in and there were rose petals all over the bed for just me. Imagine how much I relished in the idea that your silly little fat bride was probably sitting at home weeping, crying over the idea that she didn't get to squeeze her fat ass into a disgusting one-piece bathing suit with a built-in skirt to take pictures on that tropical oasis when obviously her dumpy, frumpy, fat ass does not deserve such privileges, which is why she did not get them. Goddess B did.

Miss B did. Your boss, the love of your life, the feet that you adore, that you worship, that you quite literally live for. You want to kiss every one of those toes, you want to lick every one of those wrinkles. These perfect little feet own you. This is all the payment, an office bitch like you needs. You just need to have the reward of my delightful feet pressed against your face.

Look at you. Always eager to serve, always eager to obey. That's a good boy. Now, now that boss is back, you know what that means. It's time to get down to work. So consider this, your souvenir that I brought back for you, my delicious tan toes to give you a big, big something to cum for because I know you've been suffering with blue balls ever since I left.

Thank you for joining me. It is that time of year again where we sit down and discuss your progress and how you've been performing lately. Now I know the last few months have been a bit challenging for you. You've taken on a lot more responsibility around the office for me. Not to mention there's been some very dramatic personal changes in your life. Like your fiance finding out about your little pervy foot fetish, specifically the feet of your dominant wicked boss. And I know when that wedding date was officially canceled so that way you could better serve and honor me, she was likely just devastated. But I have no doubt when she showed up to the airport to go and cash in her honeymoon and found out those tickets had already been exchanged for a first class ticket that had already left that morning, she was livid. And I assume it was probably very difficult for you to concentrate and work on your tasks at hand while your ex is nagging and calling and crying and freaking out.

But you don't have time to discuss any of that with her. You've got shoes to clean. You've got pantyhose to take care of.

You need to make sure everything is in tip top shape before your boss returns because you know she's not going to take any excuses at all. And I haven't. So here we are. And I did come home and check out all of my shoes from top to bottom to make sure that they had all been cleaned and polished to my standard each and every pair. And God knows I have hundreds. It probably took you multiple nights of dedication with your own toothbrush and Q-tips hand scrubbing and cleaning every nook and cranny of every pair of shoes of mine. What a privilege. What a task.

I give it a seven out of ten. Mainly because I feel like instead of devoting yourself to the true meaning of the cleaning which is to polish my shoes, I believe you might have indulged a little too much. I believe that you steady kept a boner the entire time you were polishing my heels and that probably took away from your ability to concentrate.

I don't even want to get started around your office skills. They have definitely become so far. Mm hmm. I guess you're having a hard time concentrating on faxes and scans and how I take my coffee when all you can do is sit underneath my desk all day long waiting for your next command. Eyeballing my delicious delightful feet. Mm hmm. The way I dangle my high heels from my delicious yummy toes makes you so hot.

So bothered. Nothing about your fat disgusting ex compares to your beautiful hot boss. You would rather serve, worship and obey my beautiful divine feet. You would rather do as I say every single day sleep under my desk than ever fuck her Trusting pussy again.

Nonetheless, be married. Ugh. No, you. You are going to be my little beta forever. You are going to fully embrace that pussy-free life. You don't need pussy. You won't be getting pussy. You will be serving as my little office foot bitch.

Worshipping my feet, sucking my toes, cleaning my stockings, polishing my heels. Whatever I demand, you happily do. You love being owned by your cruel, wicked boss. You love the way I use you, abuse you, and tease you.

I think instead of a promotion, you're actually in need of a demotion. I do. I think that I should take away some of your beloved foot privileges so that way you can better focus your attention where it belongs. You've overindulged, do you see? And now it's time to reel you back in.

That's right. Your boss knows best. Fuck her, only Goddess B. Can you imagine how amused I was when she showed up to the office crying and babbling, wanting to speak to her husband? And I happily reminded her that she doesn't have a husband. She has an ex-fiance who left her fat ass at the altar so he could worship, kiss, love, and obey my feet. The only white he saw that day were my perfectly polished toenails.

That's right. I am his true love. He'd rather commit himself to celibacy and hand-humping, kissing and licking my feet my foot pussy than ever receiving pussy again.

That's right. And then I took my long, long, sexy foot and I smushed it against her fat little face and gave her her very own close-up view of what keeps you so, so obedient. What has you abandoning your entire life to serve, to worship, to obey? And you wouldn't have it any other way. You love worshiping Goddess Brandon.

Miss B knows best. You would never quit. You will never waver.

No, no, no. Not when these divine, delicious, yummy little feet owe you. And you love every inch of serving goddess Brandon, don't you?

Serving her soles, her toes, her perfect, perfect goddess body. Makes you so weak, doesn't it? Good boy.

So this review, I'm going to give you a C. I think we can do much better. You have been demoted. You will no longer be allowed to worship my feet on your lunch break. No, you're going to have to earn that privilege back. You're going to have to work extra hard to get that. Instead, you will be on strict shoe duty. And I'm considering chastity if I don't see some immediate improvements. That's my good boy. Now back under the desk where you belong.