Tom had been taking notes in his notebook and had even done some of the exercises at the end of the chapter. While some of it looked or sounded vaguely familiar, he wasn't speeding through even the early chapters. He was really ready for a break. And that's when he heard Ms. Rodriguez approaching.

Hearing her was one thing, seeing her was another. She came around the corner in pink and grey workout clothes and a white sweat towel draped over her neck. In her hand she was finishing off a bottle of water. And at that moment he could have used a drink himself.

She was wearing some kind of spandex or stretch pants which hugged her legs, and surely must be clinging to her ass. Her navel was exposed along with the rest of her abdomen, and the pink top with its deep cleavage hung from her shoulders supporting her breasts. What's more, the sweat was creating a transparency and he was quite sure he could make out her nipples.

The top hadn't been covering much of her chest to begin with, but with the see-through quality now evident, it was like they were on display. He had never seen her like this before and he couldn't help but stare. He could only hope those tits would somehow escape that top, much the way his own dick was now trying to get out of his pants.

"Okay Tom, you can take a break from your studies. It's time for your first footstool training. Follow me."

He tried to be attentive and not look too obvious, but he knew she had caught him staring at her chest. But as she walked past and he began to follow her, he had something else to look at. He was right. Those pants were in fact clinging to her ass. In fact they seemed to hug each cheek separately and went deep into her crack.

He enjoyed the rhythmic sway and bounce of her ass as he followed her, but it was all to brief as she came to a stop. This time she stood at another comfortable looking chair, and in front of it, there was already a rectangular footstool covered in black leather or vinyl. She bent down and spun it ninety degrees so its length extended away from the chair.

Her bending over to move the stool put her ass on even greater display. He swore he could hear the fabric stretching. He had never thought of his Spanish teacher this way before, but it was all he could do not to reach out and grab her ass.

"Now if you'll go around to that end and get down on your knees."

She turned around to face him and he knew he was caught again, this time for staring at her ass. His head was like a bobble headed toy for a moment. He looked up and away from her ass, and then knowing he was caught, he looked down from her eyes, where he found himself staring into her sweaty cleavage, before his head snapped up and then quickly turned to the side to avoid her gaze once again. He knew in those seconds he must have looked like an idiot.

He just hung his head and moved to the stool and got on his knees, keeping his head down, not wanting to look her in the eyes. She didn't say anything, but he could sense her disapproval. She took a step forward and stood at the other end of the stool.

"Now just lay forward on your hands and knees and let the stool support you."

He did as she instructed and found the stool fit his body better than he would have expected for a random piece of furniture. It was the length of his torso and his shoulders were even with the opposite edge. His hands were on the floor at the corners and he was looking at the floor.

Ms. Rodriguez then squatted down beside him and he felt her hand on the back of his leg. She didn't say anything and he didn't know what this was about, but soon she removed her hand and went around behind him. Moments later he felt her again with a hand, this time on his other leg.

He was tempted to ask her what she was doing when she came up to his shoulder, and he saw her reaching up under the stool. She pulled something out and within seconds she was attaching a leather cuff to his wrist.

"Hey, now wait just a minute."

"Quiet now. Footstools don't talk."

Footstools don't talk. Cute. And as she quickly cuffed his other wrist he thought 'and what footstool needs to be restrained.' He was still pondering why she had cuffed him to the stool when he felt a wide strap being pulled tight across his back. For whatever reason, she seemed to be serious about securing him to the stool. She then took few seconds to check the straps and he felt that his legs were secured to the stool as well. He could move his upper body, but not a lot.

She came up beside him once again and her face was close to his. She put a hand on his head and she petted him like a dog. He didn't find it very amusing but he said nothing.

"Well I think you're just about all set. One more thing to do and you will be ready for use."

And then she reached down to the front of the stool and suddenly the front panel was coming up. It took Tom by surprise. It was like a recliner opening except it didn't extend forward, it was just hinged at the top edge. Once it was level with the top of the stool he heard it snap into place.

Now being level with the rest of the stool, and Tom well strapped to that, he had to lift up his head. He was now looking forward at the chair. But it was more insidious than that. The top of the stool was rounded and when the panel came up a half cylinder cushion came up under his chin, stretching his neck and making it impossible to bend his head forward.

Focused on the chair in front of him, he saw Ms. Rodriguez come around and take a seat, plopping down into the chair and bringing her feet up to rest on the edge of the stool just a few inches from his face. He was now up close and personal with the pink and grey soles of her trainers, blocking most of his view.

"Now this is going to be much like before, however you obviously won't be using your hands. Show me what you learned."

As soon as she finished, time came to a standstill. She pulled one foot back just far enough so she could pry off the heel of her other shoe. As it fell away he noticed her bare foot in front of him. In frozen time his mind told him something was very wrong. Continuing in a super slow motion her bare foot retreated until the toes were at the heel of her remaining shoe, prying it off and sending it to the floor.

As the feet slid towards him, his mind was putting the pieces together. She had been wearing trainers. She was wearing trainers without socks. She had been exercising and clearly had been working up a sweat. He was facing her and her feet and not perpendicular to her. She wasn't going to rest her feet on his back as a footstool as he had assumed. She said it was going to be like before. She told him to show her what he had learned. Oh God, this was going to be...

Awful! It was just awful. The stink crashed into his face just before her feet did. Her feet came to his cheekbones and pushed his head back further, if that were possible. The odor attacked him viciously. An image flashed in his head of smelling salts being used to revive an unconscious person. The odor enveloping him now could certainly do that. Could such a strong smell also be used to knock someone out?

He tried instinctively to get away, but his neck was really all he could move, restrained as he was, and that movement was limited by the infernal stool and by her feet which guided his head and wouldn't let him escape. He couldn't think, he couldn't speak, as the stink of her feet continued its assault.

There was nowhere he could go. And then the trap closed tighter as she cupped her toes around his nose. Without meaning to he took a deep breath as he tried once again to pull his head away. There was no relief to be had. He was now coughing and choking. And still her feet and their stink attacked his face.

But it wasn't just the sweaty odor he was now faced with. He could already feel a wetness on his cheeks. They felt wet and slick and he knew it was from the sweat that all but dripped from her bare feet. Along with the workout stench, she was rubbing her sweaty feet into his face.

He tried to calm his breathing and breath through his mouth and not his nose, but it was no good. The air was thick with the sweaty smell and he felt it had crept into his head. Her toes pinched his nose and he thought it a relief, but moments later her foot jammed across his mouth and he couldn't breathe at all.

His breathing had already become ragged what with the stench and his coughing and choking, so he was in no position to hold his breath. In mere seconds he was struggling, and then she opened her toes, allowing a rush of tainted air to flow between her toes and up his nostrils.

While he was trying to catch his breath her feet continued to play across his face. He blinked several times as he felt drops of sweat sliding into the corners of his eyes. It was all the worse when he realized it was her foot sweat making its way into his eyes, and not his own exertion which caused the salty irritation.

Tom was in a panic and for a few seconds which felt like hours, he struggled with her feet. They pushed and prodded, squeezed and pinched, and grabbed and slapped his face, all centering around his nose and mouth. He felt he was putting in great effort but getting nowhere, while conversely with little effort on her part she seemed to have complete control of him and the foul air he was breathing.

At some point her feet stopped. They came to rest in front of his face but they no longer tried to conquer him. The stink was still present and he tried to calm his breathing and clear his throat. This wasn't easy and he realized his heart had been racing as well. He wasn't yet settled when she spoke.

"So where's my compliment?"

He heard the words but he didn't understand. He was in a fog; a sweaty foot fog. Compliment? She had said something about that earlier in the morning. She said it when she made him smell her feet. Oh God, she expected a compliment for how her feet smelled now!

"You awake? I'm waiting for my compliment."

As she said it, she had put one foot forward and rubbed the ball of her foot and under her toes across his nostrils. If he could have fallen asleep that would have woken him up. She was seriously waiting for a compliment.

"Uh, yeah. I...um, your feet...they uh...they really smell...nice."

He knew once he said it that it wasn't convincing. How could it be? And then she slapped his face with her foot. It wasn't hard or painful but it did get his attention.

"You'd better be able to improve on that."

He tried again, but had to stop, working to clear his throat. He coughed a few times and considered what to say and how to say it. He couldn't even remember what she had told him earlier that morning.

"You're feet are beautiful, and they smell beautiful. Thank you for the privilege."

He waited, hoping it was enough, hardly believing what he had just said. And still he was trying to breathe normally and breathe through his mouth. The odor wasn't quite as strong now but it most certainly wasn't 'beautiful'.

"That's better. You know it's important that you learn your lessons. Your other teachers might not be as nice to you as I am."

At this point that wasn't something he dared to contemplate. Right now he was just trying to survive the day. This had been an unexpected turn and he was suffering for it. Things had gotten much worse.

"Now you can show me what else you have learned. Time to stick out that tongue and put it to work."

What! No! She couldn't be serious! Was she actually expecting him to lick her sweaty, stinky feet? This was too much. He closed his mouth and tried to pull back, but the stool and his restraints reminded him there was nowhere to go. Still he just couldn't do it.

Her feet tapped at his cheeks. Then her toes cupped his nose. Then she ran one foot up and over his nostrils from toes to heel. Together she used her feet to push in his cheeks, giving him a silly fish face. All the while Tom kept his tongue in his mouth.

"I'm waiting. Remember what I said before about doing what you're told the first time. I can send word to Ms. Wechsbotham. Or better yet I could call her right now and see if she would like to come over."

And that was enough. The idea of a future meeting with Ms. Wechsbotham wasn't a pleasant one, but the thought that she might come over right now, might be angry at the interruption to her day, and that she would find him well secured to this stool with no way to defend himself; that was enough to make him reconsider. And slowly he put out his tongue.

If he had found the foot licking difficult before, then this was a monumental challenge. Everything about this was more severe, more humiliating, and forgive the pun...more distasteful. Now when his tongue touched her foot he felt as though it was soaking up her sweat.

Hard to say just how much of the taste in his mouth was the taste of her foot as opposed to the taste of her sweat, but either way the taste in his mouth was only amplified under these conditions. Before today he would never have imagined licking a woman's foot. But at that moment he knew he much preferred to lick a dry foot than a wet and sweaty one.

He couldn't find a comparison to what he was experiencing. He did have thoughts of drinking a watered down soda, one where the ice cubes have been left to melt entirely into the drink. That still didn't truly convey the taste that played over his tongue and washed the inside of his cheeks.

He didn't know how long it would take but he only hoped her feet would dry out soon. Surely there was a limit to how much sweat she had built up. And every pass of his tongue, forced as it was, should be removing more of it from her foot. Still he wasn't working hard to collect the foul liquid.

Her feet never strayed more than a few inches from his face and tongue. He had been close to them before but now restrained as he was and dealing with this new indignation, her feet were making a point; he had no way to escape.

"What's the matter? Your tongue getting tired? We're going to have to work on your stamina."

And now she was taunting him. No his tongue wasn't getting tired, unless you count being tired of all this abuse. But he was far past wishing this was over. He wasn't sure just how much longer he could go on.

And then she hit him again. Not physically, but that might have been better. No she delivered a painful blow which made him reel and all she had to do was utter a few words.

"Well you can take a rest from the licking. Time we moved on to the foot sucking."

His jaw actually dropped. He was so stunned by what she said and what it meant that he just looked at her feet dumbfounded. It was only after her feet tapped his head a few times that he realized this wasn't just some distorted dream, but that he was actually being asked, well ordered really, to suck on her sweaty foot.

He looked past her toes into her eyes. They weren't caring or forgiving. They weren't offering a joke although he sensed that she was amused. No they had a wicked glare and they told him he had no choice but to obey. He had fallen so far since this morning began.

"I...I can't...I just can't."

"Excuse me? You can and you will."

He didn't expect any mercy and he hated having to beg, but this was too much. Licking should have been a step too far, but they were already beyond that. Tasting her foot sweat even for a second was disgusting and degrading, something for which he wanted to erase all record.

Seconds ago he couldn't have imagined anything worse. But now he knew what was worse. The logical next step deeper into this foot hell he found himself in. He was asked to actively suck the sweat from her foot. Not casually or incidentally, while he licked her, which was sure to bring a taste of her sweat; no, she wanted him to work at sucking the sweat from her foot.

"Please...please don't make me do this."

Her feet stopped their assault of his face and tongue but they did not retreat. Her look was not one full of compassion but rather the stern look of a teacher dealing with an unruly child.

"I'm glad you said please, but this is something you're going to have to do."

"But I can't...I...I've...I've already done so much. Please stop...let it be over."

Now it looked as though there may be a glimmer of compassion after all. But it was nearly hidden amongst a look of determination. He hadn't won his freedom.

"Tom I know this isn't easy for you. But it isn't just something you can do; it's something you will do."

Now Tom's eyes encountered a new irritation. It wasn't just the sweat that had made its way there. Now he felt tears forming and he was only just holding them back.

"It's true Tom, you're in a bad spot. But you only have yourself to blame. If you're strong I know you can get through this. Pardon me for saying, but this is only a taste of what's to come. I don't know just what the other teachers have planned, but you can bet their going to test your limits."

It was a little hard to read her at that moment. So much of what he thought of Ms. Rodriguez had changed since he first went to her to fix his grade and since he had been inside her home. Now she was speaking to him like a guidance counselor, encouraging him to give his best. He was confused.

"Now enough stalling. Show me you can take whatever I dish out. Open your mouth and suck my sweaty foot!"

(Continue the story)