Once upon a time at school
A small digression:
The main heroines are in the eleventh grade.
They are already 18.
Mortal boredom. On the desk in front of Lena lie empty answer sheets for math assignments, which she hasn't even touched in all three lessons. What will her parents say when they find out she scored a two on the practice exam? This won't do. She needs to get at least a three...
— Zhenya, let me copy, — she leaned towards her classmate who was sitting at the front desk, but the girl shook her head and didn't bother to answer. She had been preparing for this exam for several months and considered it unfair if someone else got a
good grade without putting in any mental effort at all.— Do it yourself, — Zhenya snapped curtly and buried herself in her scribbled draft, which probably had all the problems solved. Lena hated her. Everything about Zhenya annoyed her: the two long braids down to her shoulders irritated her; that completely confident and intelligent look that sometimes drove her crazy; the modest, unremarkable clothes. But what angered Lena most was that Zhenya refused to simply hand over the draft with all the completed tests, which she had long since copied onto her own answer sheet. Because of her, she would fail her exams, and her parents would start another scandal!
— You won't get away with this, — Lena hissed menacingly and dropped her head in resignation. Lost in thought, she examined her miniskirt and the black nylon stockings like those worn by Japanese schoolgirls in anime. Looking at her dark red patent leather shoes with high heels, she remembered people who get aroused by the smell and sight of women's feet. They go crazy over photos of stockings, which puzzled Lena. Really, she had a beautiful chest, a perfect waist, a cute attractive face, but could anyone actually like her feet?
The bell rang. Lena looked in dismay at her virginally clean answer sheet. Zhenya's sheet was completely filled out.
— Okay, — said the teacher and nodded in their direction. She took all the collected papers and headed for the exit. — You're on duty today. The keys are on my desk. Clean the classroom, wash the board, and lock the door. I have urgent business.
And she left. For a while, Lena stood bewildered: she would have agreed to be on duty with anyone, but not with her!
— You start for now, and I'll be right there, — Zhenya rattled off and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She unlocked the touchscreen and began typing something quickly. Lena noticed that during this process, Zhenya's facial expression changed: sometimes it became anxious or worried, sometimes happy and animated. Occasionally, she unconsciously took a few steps back and covered the phone with her hands—like those who are trying to hide something do.
— What are you doing? — Lena couldn't stand it, as she had no intention of doing all the classroom work herself, and she snatched the phone from Zhenya's hands. The reaction was astonishing: Zhenya lunged so briskly to get the phone back, as if her most precious and valuable possession had been taken. Lena raised her hand high so she couldn't reach it. It all resembled some childish game. — What's on it?
— If I tell you, will you give me my phone back? — Zhenya asked hopefully. Now she didn't look as confident as she had a couple of minutes ago. She blushed and panicked.
— Yes, — Lena replied, surprised by her naivety. — I'll give it back.
— I found a guy online who sends me ready-made answers for exams, — Zhenya confessed nervously, twisting her fingers. — The thing is, I didn't have time to prepare for all the subjects. Please don't tell anyone… You promised to give me my phone back…
— In a moment, — Lena snorted and wiped droplets of sweat from her forehead. The classroom was becoming unbearably stuffy. She felt that her toes, squeezed into tight shoes, had sweated and become quite damp. Her panties were also wet, but not from the heat in the classroom—she remembered those videos she had watched where guys eagerly kiss and lick girls' feet. It was probably strange, but right now she really wanted to be in those girls' place. — Wash my feet.
— What? — Lena was taken aback and threw a quick glance at her damp, sweaty stockings. — What do you mean?
— Wash my feet, — Lena repeated, amused by watching her classmate's reaction.
— Should I bring a bucket? — Zhenya forced out, carefully choosing her words. — I'll fill a bucket with water and wash your… — she caught herself, not understanding why she had switched to the formal 'you,' and after a couple of seconds continued. — …your feet…
— No, no need to bring a bucket, — Lena smiled graciously and leaned against the desk. — With your tongue. Wash my feet with your tongue. You don't want the principal to find out that you have exam answers, do you? Especially since maybe you have something else interesting there?
Zhenya noticeably became worried and looked Lena in the eyes, as if asking: you're joking, right? But she wasn't joking. Lena was unhappy about failing the exam. And it was all because of this Zhenya, who refused to simply hand over the draft with all the solved problems. Lena desperately wanted revenge, to wipe that smug, nauseating smile off her businesslike, pimply face. Telling the principal that she had answers was too mild; she wasn't in first grade to tattle. specially for etales.ru Forcing her to lick feet was something entirely different. She would show this snob her place.
— I'm not joking, — Lena replied sternly and pointed at her shoes with her finger. — Start by taking off my shoes. I want to let my feet rest.
Zhenya slowly, fighting feelings of disgust and revulsion, sank to her knees. Her eyes were now level with Lena's skirt. Lena smirked.
— Lower, — she reminded her kindly. Zhenya shrank and carefully got down on all fours, then began to bend towards her classmate's right foot. At that moment, she resembled a cat leaning over a bowl of milk. With her tongue, she carefully pulled down the fastener, gripped the heel with her teeth, and took the shoe off her.
— Good girl, — Lena smiled and casually presented the other foot. — Now this one.
Zhenya similarly took off the second shoe, blushing and sweating profusely. A sharp, suffocating smell of sweat hit her nostrils. Zhenya remembered how in first grade she and Lena exchanged stickers and played with dolls. And now she was kneeling before her, kissing her feet…
— Now, the stockings, — Lena demanded and wiggled her appetizing toes in front of her wrinkled nose. Zhenya could see greasy sweat stains showing through the thin fabric. She felt disgusted, sickened, but she forced herself and with her lips grasped the salty toe of the stocking. From the sour taste that appeared on her lips, her head grew foggy. Zhenya pulled herself together and began pulling the stockings off her in jerks.
— Such a thrill, — Lena drawled sweetly when her slender, sweaty feet were freed from the tight embrace of nylon. Now her feet could breathe freely. — You just can't imagine how tired I am of walking in these damn stockings. Seven lessons on my feet. I would wash my feet in warm water now and wipe them with a cloth to get rid of this stinky smell. But, you know, I have a better idea.
Zhenya, who had been kneeling all this time, tried to straighten up. Coming from a civilized and decent family, she couldn't allow herself to be treated so rudely! She had to get her phone back and get out of here!
— Calm down, — Lena whispered and gently ran her big toe over Zhenya's agitated, trembling lips. Zhenya felt the sour taste of sweat and dirt. Lena made herself more comfortable on the desk and, stretching her legs forward, began wiping her soaked soles on Zhenya's outraged and insulted face. Zhenya writhed, spat, made unsuccessful attempts to dodge, but each time she did, Lena, laughing, pulled her long braids towards her. She tugged again—and Zhenya's face buried itself in her slimy, juicy heel.
With her toes, she gently parted her lips and shoved (or rather, pushed) her wet, slippery foot into her mouth.
Lena found this activity terribly amusing and fun. Zhenya, with a foot in her mouth that seemed to tear her lips, burned with shame. She understood that everything that happened in this room wouldn't remain a secret: Lena would definitely tell her girlfriends and friends about it. Zhenya couldn't believe… didn't want to believe that her classmate, whom she despised, was now literally wiping her feet on her!
What Zhenya hated most about Lena wasn't even that she was degrading her so low, but the look with which she did it. Lena looked arrogantly, brazenly, smugly, mockingly, and with hints of regret. And through it all, she smiled. The way bloodthirsty murderers smile when they destroy another victim.
And Lena was destroying Zhenya.
Morally.
— Ggg… khhhh… hkkkk, — choking, Zhenya began making inarticulate sounds. Nausea rose to her throat, she felt like vomiting. She hunched over pitifully and curled up like a terrified animal. Her tear-filled eyes bulged from their sockets. Her mascara ran, making her look like a cheap whore. Her head wobbled comically from side to side, back and forth, following Lena's feet, which mercilessly shoved her dirty soles deeper and deeper into Zhenya's throat…
— Alright, — she laughed and pulled her thin, well-groomed feet out of the mouth smeared with sweat and saliva. She smiled again. — Relax for now.
Zhenya, who was struggling not to cry, quietly sobbed. Had she, a cultured and well-bred girl, just been used as a foot rag? Zhenya realized she would never be able to look anyone in the eye again. What happened in this classroom was a stigma, a lifelong disgrace… she wouldn't be able to live peacefully anymore, remembering how she had been so humiliated, trampled…
— Don't worry, everything's fine, — Lena said mockingly and began stroking her reddened cheeks with her feet, down which tears were slowly sliding, as if racing each other.
— Will you give me my phone back? — Zhenya asked in a breaking, tearful voice and lowered her eyes even further.
— On one condition, — Lena replied, took off her thong, and spread her legs in an obscene pose. — You'll eat me out.
Zhenya recoiled in horror on her knees backward, as if trying to say: no, no, that's too much! But Lena didn't care about her words. She gripped Zhenya's head with her feet on both sides—Zhenya's temples pounded violently—and, without loosening her grip, pressed her face against her damp and warm crotch. The poor girl shook her head wildly, trying to escape the suffocating, foul embrace. Lena pressed harder.
— Lick, if you want me to leave you alone, — Lena ordered and made a smooth forward motion so her friend's tongue would enter between her labia. Zhenya grimaced. Lena repeated the motion. Again. A second time. A third. With each time, she picked up speed. Zhenya couldn't catch her breath. She didn't even have time to lick—Lena was impaling herself on her tongue, fucking her desperate, dazed face. Zhenya's mascara was smeared, her lips were bleeding, her eyes were tearing, saliva dripped from her chin, and her gaze was pleading and pitiful.
Suddenly, Lena was hit by such a huge surge of arousal and pleasure that it literally washed over her body in waves. Lena felt she was on the verge of blasting off into space. A pleasant shiver ran from her stomach to her legs. She knew that just a little more, and she would experience such a powerful explosion of pleasure that her head would spin!
Just a little more… Lena pressed her friend tighter against her crotch and began to grind, bounce, jump on her smeared, pathetic face. Zhenya sobbed and twitched. She was being used! Humiliated! Lena, experiencing indescribable bliss, closed her eyes in euphoria and slightly opened her mouth.
And that moment arrived—the peak of pleasure. She grabbed her classmate by the hair with her hands so she couldn't break free, and white, liquid discharge splattered onto the poor, exhausted face. Zhenya, in such a destroyed state where nothing happening mattered anymore, thought: I should have just let her copy, and silently burst into tears. Lena proudly got up from the desk, looked over her crushed classmate, and picked up her damp panties from the floor.
— At least wipe yourself, — she said and began carefully smearing her discharge over her dirty face with the thong. She put her underwear, stockings, and shoes back on, and before leaving the classroom, said: — If you want me to give you your phone back, tomorrow we're on duty again.