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The Grading Session-Part 2 (f/m, feet)

wearyfoxes

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The Grading Session—Part 2 (f/m, feet)



After a while, it was as if we were in a trance, both totally locked into our project. Our eyes followed the movement of the felt tip marker in her hand, as it was sliding across my bare soles. She worked silently, but with thorough determination. To get a maximum reaction out of me, she alternated her technique of torture whenever I least expected it. Short and rapid strokes were followed by long, sensuous lines, until the bottom of my foot was filled with her written comments.
I had giggled when she had written EXCELLENT across the ball of my foot, I had thrashed and wriggled like a madman when she had scribbled G-R-E-A-T in single letters under each of my toes, I had jumped every single time when she poked my tender soles with the tip of the pen to mark the “Is” and cross the “Ts." I was uncontrollably moaning, almost begging for mercy, when she finally inscribed my most sensible spot—the tender flesh at the arch—with a note that I would never repeat to anyone.
When she was done, she admired her work, while I was leaning back in the chair, almost ready to explode.
“Look at you,” she said in a half-way satisfied, halfway mockingly disgusted voice. “You cannot go to the seminar like that!”
Her speaking up brought me back to the reality of the TA-office. I looked at my bare feet, which were now covered in red, black and blue marker, spelling out comments, grades and glosses, which were mostly related to the nakedness and vulnerability of my feet. She had not forgotten a single spot from the ankles down, so that even each of my toe nails now featured well-written check plusses.
When I looked at the clock at the wall over the door, I realized that now I really was in trouble.
“I cannot go to the seminar like this,” I exclaimed.
A wide grin began to form around her lips.
“Exactly. What do you think an impression that would make to the professor and the other grad students if your colored footsies were exposed to them in such a PECULIAR state?”
At this moment, a feeling of desperation came over me. So far, all of this had been done in good fun, but now I had to figure out a way to get back to reality.
“Hey, listen, I think I really need to go to the bathroom and clean myself off. Can I have my shoes back?”
From the mocking look she was giving me I instantly knew that the answer would be no. Capping her marker, she smiled at me deviously.
“Poor Andrew. We have got a dilemma here, hmmm? He wants his shoes back to clean himself, while I myself much prefer him to remain barefoot for a while…Oh, do tell me: Isn’t it YOUR turn today to give your presentation to the class?! I wonder how you would feel if all eyes were on your feet? Would you be embarrassed that everyone were to know of our naughty little secret?” Those last words were almost swallowed by that mischievous giggle of hers.
“Would you be embarrassed? Would you, now?”
I couldn’t believe how much she was enjoying herself at this. I was getting more and more nervous. Reasoning with her didn’t seem to the trick, and the clock was ticking.
I had 45 minutes until the seminar when I decided to give in to her game.
“Okay, what do you want?”
She leaned forward pointing to my feet, her voice low and seductive.
“I want to help you, of course.”
“And how would you do that?” I asked suspiciously.
“We will clean your footsies together, of course. I feel personal responsibility for this mess, you know?”

She peeked out the door to make sure that no one was in the hallway. Silently, she motioned me to get up and follow me. Nervously looking around me, I followed her through the hallway past the empty seminar rooms, my bare feet making padded sound on the cold tile floor. If anybody would see me like this now…
When she stopped next to the women’s restroom I shook my head.
“No way.”
“Get in there, already.”
“I am not going in THERE.”
We stood there for at least half a minute soundlessly shooting back and forth at each other. With every second we wasted out here the chance would become greater that someone was catching sight of us.
Finally, she pushed me through the restroom door, just in time. Two other female grad students were just turning around the corner from the administrative office, but I was sure they hadn’t seen us, yet. I cussed to myself when I heard their voices outside the restroom, for my escape route had just been blocked off for good.
“They are waiting for their seminar, which means that we better get you cleaned,” she said matter-of-factly.
Nervously I eyed the door, fearing that I was caught barefooted in the women’s toilet by my female fellow students.
“What if they come in any moment?” I pleaded.
“I think that would be rather thrilling,” she mused looking me up and down, her eyes coming to rest on my feet again.
“And it seems like you think so, too.
My hand instantly went to my crotch. Being here with her and without my shoes on made me feel extremely naked and vulnerable. But I was also getting hard again.
“Alright, get in there.” She pointed at one of the restroom stalls.
“Those bathroom floors are gross,” I muttered, but I followed her instruction, after she snapped a few words about her calling she shots now, if I ever wanted to save my reputation.
On tiptoes, I entered the bathroom stall looking at the floor. It seemed clean enough, which was probably due to the cleaning team that I realized had been here a short time ago from the bucket of soapy water that stood next to the sink.
“And now what?” I whispered across the room.
“Lock the door.”
“What?”
“Lock it already.”
Nervously I locked the stall from the inside. I waited, heard her move something heavy outside, and the next thing I know was that her voice was coming from inside the stall next to mine.
“Stick your feet through the gap under the wall.”
Broken mentally, I sat down on the toilet rim and stuck my bare feet through the gap. A moment later, I felt something soft and wet on my feet. The bucket of water, it came to me! She was intending to clean the marker off from my feet! And this would TICKLE like hell!
“Please…” I begged, but I couldn’t hope for mercy.
So all I could do was to scream, when I felt something rough like a wet scrub brush being moved all over my feet. She scrubbed them well,--balls, heels, arches, toes, tops, every inch of my feet burned with the stinging sensation of tickle fire within five minutes.
Every time I felt like screaming in tickling agony, I suppressed the urge in fear that the students outside would her us. It seemed like an eternity until she was done. When I moved my feet back in, they were rosy-red and as clean as if they had never been touched by a permanent marker at all.
Now was sitting on the toilet, panting, lifting one foot up and inspecting the redness.
“Can I please have my shoes back now?” I asked through the wall. “I really need to get ready for the seminar.”
For a moment, there was a total silence, as if she was thinking.
“I don’t think so.”
“What???” I couldn’t believe it. “We had a deal!”
“I said that I would think about giving you your shoes back. But you have been a very naughty student, making such a fuss coming in here and giggling and screaming all over the place. I will need to teach you a lesson. You will go to the seminar BAREFOOT today, because I choose so. That way, I can admire my cleaning work a little bit longer, and you will think twice before you disobey me again.”
“What am I going to say to the others?”
“Andrew, realize this—what the others think is not your biggest problem now.”
I didn’t understand, but she immediately spelled this new reality out for me.
“Your biggest problem will be to withstand the hour with me sitting next to your bare feet resting under the seminar table."
“Or what?” I muttered shakily.
Her head popped into my restroom stall, with her hand waving her camera phone.
“Or else, the pictures that I just took of your artsy feet in the women’s bathroom will be uploaded to the departmental server before the day is over.”
There was a moment of total silence. The only sound now was the dripping faucet in the sink area.
“It’s late, let’s get going.”
She nudged my bare foot with the tip of her black leather sneaker.
“And don’t get your feet too dirty on your way out.
I want to enjoy the show! So your bare feet better perform for me tonight”


To be continued… :feets:
 
Great story. :D Now that she has established her dominance, I trust that she will tickle torture him insane. :devil:
 
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