Obey Miss Tiffany - Tiny man in locker room

Obey Miss Tiffany - Tiny man in locker room

As I stepped out of my locker at work, my heart raced as I found a tiny man just inches from my feet in the misty locker room. His eyes were wide with fear as they locked onto my own, reflecting back at him from the mirrored wall. I stood there, my stomach churning with a mixture of disgust and arousal, debating on whether to let him get away or not.

"Oh my god," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the panting of my heavy breathing. "You're... real?"

I raised an eyebrow, amused by the look of terror on his face. "What did you think I was going to be? A figment of your perverse imagination?"

Taking a step closer, I leaned down and looked at him eye-to-eye, my pantyhose-covered feet hovering just out of reach. Up close, I could see the glistening beads of sweat on his forehead, a testament to just how turned on he must have been. "What's the matter, don't you like feet?" I purred, wiggling my toes suggestively. "Well, you're about to find out that you do."

Scooping him up in my hands, I carried him over to one of the benches and set him down gently, thankful for the preoccupied locker room that prevented anyone from seeing just how strange this must look. My feet were deliciously warm and sticky from being trapped in my stinking pantyhose all day, and I couldn't wait to make him experience it all up close and personal.

Kneeling down in front of him, I lifted one leg up onto the bench and placed my foot right in front of his face. It was the perfect size for him to fit inside - if he could stomach the thought of slipping his tiny body between my stocking-clad toes. "Go on," I commanded, my eyes never leaving his. "You know you want to."

Slowly, he inched forward, his body shaking with anticipation or fear as his small hands reached out to touch the fabric that encased my foot. Tentatively, he traced his fingers along the seam, peeling back the edge of the pantyhose just enough to expose the soft, wiggling flesh of my toes. And then, without another word, he pressed his tiny form against them, letting out a moan that vibrated against my sweaty sole.

I laughed, low and throaty, taking in the sight of this tiny man making love to my stinking feet. It was incredible, almost enough to make me lose control myself. God, it felt good to have this kind of power over someone. "That's it," I purred, lifting my other leg up onto the bench and presenting him with another pair of sticky, sweaty toes just waiting to be worshipped. "Don't you just love the way they taste?"

His mouth found its way between my toes again, lapping up the salty, unwashed scent of my feet like they were the nectar of the gods. And maybe, just maybe, they were. Because as he worked his magic on my toes, I felt myself undoing, and soon I was lost in a world of pleasure like nothing I'd ever known. And when it was over, and he begged to be released from his toe-tortured bliss, I smiled and shook my head.

"Not quite yet," I said, my voice honeyed with desire. "I don't think you've quite thanked me enough for this little... experience." And with that, I pulled him back into my foot-sized world of pleasure, and we danced together in the misty locker room, too caught up in each other to care about anyone else.