It had been a long time since I’d seen Monika and I’d prepared a special humiliation for her. If she managed to lose three matches in a row in very bad showings, I’d put her through some hell as punishment for such a poor performance. I know Monika really suffered the last time I made her eat from my toes, so I decided to combine a long-held fantasy with a punishment Monika would really appreciate.
I’ve always wanted to walk barefoot in chocolate cake, feel the cool-from-fridge icing between my toes, the cake squishing under the balls of my feet, and then the hot contrast of a servile tongue lifting the icing and cake off my toes and soles. Monika was horrified at the sight of the cake and knew immediately what was in store for her.
This was one of the most glorious first steps I’ve ever taken. I stepped flat right onto the surface of the icing, felt the chill it gave the bottom of my foot, and then started to push my foot down into the cake.
It was actually just a little unpleasant at first, the icing was that cold. It almost made me jump as the icing squirmed up between my toes and flowed over top of them. Monika, if you ever watch the video, is moaning away in repulsion and dread at what I’m doing to a perfectly good chocolate cake with my foot and also at the knowledge that she’s going to have to eat cake that I’ve stood in, lick up icing that’s been squished between my toes! Keep in mind, we’ve just been wrestling for about an hour and a half, so my feet have had plenty of time to sweat and to pick up grit and dirt from the mat. She asked me to wash my feet first, but I told her firmly No. If she’d have managed more than just to put me on my back for a few seconds of one match, I might have acceded to her request and washed my feet before making her lick cake from them. That should go as a warning to any of you losers who imagine they might fare better than Monika against me–the penalties are stiff, but I’m not without good discretion and a little mercy.
Here I am leading with my toes and the ball of my foot, sending the ball right to the bottom of the aluminum pan and parting the cake under it to either side of the pan. My toes are completely covered in icing.
I’m getting used to the cold icing at this point, and start to lower my heel into the muddy cake and twist my foot back and forth to churn the once pretty, even cake surface into a moist loam. Monika was shrieking at the sight at this point. Really. I seem to have discovered the perfect combination of foot degradation and a food type to really horrify her. It seems, talking to her afterwards, that you just don’t step barefoot into a chocolate cake in principle–they’re too delicious and beautiful and perfect. Also, the idea of combining one of her favourite deserts with my fresh-off-the-exercise-mat foot seemed to turn her stomach. Maybe what she meant was that rather than just having something disgusting in her mouth, she’d actually be swallowing the chocolate cake this time (which she was doing) even if it was only the cake I could fork between my toes or the icing I could scoop onto them.
Here it is. The moment of truth for poor Monika. I’ll give this girl credit for one thing: once she accepts something, she generally sees it through with everything she’s got. She was having to take deep breaths and push past some serious revulsion at this task. I was even concerned she might get sick. But there she is gathering up cake from my toes on the first pass of her lips over my toes. Her tongue, always very warm on my toes, felt positively hot as it touched the pads of my middle toes on this swallow.
Monika shrieked her loudest when I added my second foot and started bathing one foot in cake and icing with the other, smearing gooey mud and loamy cake all over the tops of my feet and working it between my toes.
After bathing my feet in cake, I got the icing an cake beaten into a nice uniform mix of soil and muck, giving my feet a beautiful, innocent appearance of a pair of feet that have just gone wading in a mud puddle for the sheer sensual delight of it.
I began to talk about the cake in terms of dirt, soil, and mud, and Monika got more and more grossed out. She was only able to manage a few more passes on my toes before nearly throwing up.
I give this incredible woman credit. How many beautiful women do you know who will keep coming back to confront a man in a physical challenge time and again only to be made to endure greater and greater degradations at his feet. Monika knows the taste and feel of my feet very well by now, and it’s said that custom reconciles us to everything. You should have seen the first time I put my big toe into Monika’s mouth–she was having to steel herself to the experience. I imagine it’s like the process of disembodiment that a woman on a torture table experiences after being worked on for a while–it’s a psychological and physical coping mechanism. So every once in a while, I must take pains (no pun intended) to crispen the experience of humiliation and displeasure, to ensure that Monika is fully present bodily and emotionally for each passing instant of her degradation. In this, I attained a glorious success in my barefoot cake torment.
I was proud, pleased, and gratified by the experience I put Monika through this day.
Monika is a sponge for degradation, as I’ve said many times, and you can see her in some fantastically disgusting degradation videos on her own site. Please visit this pathetic woman and experience a full gamut of her exposure to the torpid whims of dominant men.