John had been on his hands and knees staring at the Sorceress' soles for hours now. His muscles ached, and his knees and palms burned, but he could not move. She had control over him, and his body did as she commanded.
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It had been days since a flat tire had stranded him in the middle of nowhere and he had been ensnared by the Sorceress - to John it felt like years. The longer he had spent in her house, the less John thought and remembered of his life before. He knew that his name was John, but he knew little else. At times he would experience flashes of memories of who he had been beyond the walls of the house, but these came less and less frequently. He remembered travelling down a windy road through trees in a storm, but where had he been going? And where from? He felt the remnants of a warmth of love for friends and family, but could not picture them. He knew that a world existed beyond the gate at the bottom of the lane, and he knew that he had been a part of that world, but he did not know more than that.
Sometimes, the memories would be stronger, and his mind would fill with images and sounds that must have been from his life before, and at these times he felt that he could almost remember himself. It was also at these times that the terror John had felt since first setting eyes on the house became most intense, and he could almost hear a cry within himself telling him to get out of that house, get away from the woman, to do whatever he can to get away.
The woman always seemed to sense when John was feeling this, and she would be sure to extinguish it before it had the chance to go any further. All she had to do was bring his face down to her soles, and have the earthy, sweaty scent of her feet weave its way into his mind and he soon forgot about anything but serving her.
The Sorceress kept him by her side at all times, as if on an invisible leash. She did not need any chains or binds and did not even lock the doors, because John was completely under her spell and did nothing of his own volition anymore.
John spent his days grovelling by her feet and awaiting her commands while she read in her library, or worked at her cauldron, or relaxed on her sofas smoking her old wooden pipe. He followed her around the house on his hands and knees like a faithful dog, and only ever walked upright in her presence when they were out in the forest gathering ingredients for her potions and elixirs.
"I may send you out to the woods on your own to forage for me some day," she had told him on their first morning after he had arrived at the house, "But not until you are ready. There are things out here I need to protect you from, things who would love to have their way with you! It would be such an inconvenience for you to be taken and for me to have to find a new slave, wouldn't it?"
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John felt the ache in his neck as he hunched on all fours on the floor, looking up at the Sorceress' soles which were propped up on a stool inches from his face. He had been here for hours while she ignored him, reading old tomes and manuscripts, and making notes and diagrams on pieces of parchment. They had spent hours that morning walking through the forest searching for a particular type of mushroom, and the smell of her feet after she had taken off her black leather boots had been so powerful he thought he might faint.
John was completely naked, as he was most of the time now, and his erection was so hard it was almost painful. The woman had kept John in a state of constant arousal and lust for her, and used her soles to keep his brain in a fog. She never relented; when he was not performing a task for her, he was to grovel at her feet and admire them. When she felt any resistance in him, she brought his face closer to her soles to quell any thoughts he may have about anything but serving her. At night he slept on the floor at bottom of her large, old, four-poster bed, and he dreamed of her feet.
No matter how aroused and engorged John was, however, she never granted him any release. Since the orgasm which had delivered him fully into her control on his first night with her, he had not been allowed to cum - his seed was important, and would be built up until needed. John's mind was in such a deep haze that he was barely aware of what the woman was doing or had been planning, but he had gathered that she planned to use his cum in her magic.
John noticed through the fog of his mind that the woman had a satisfied look on her face, and she put down her manuscripts. She began reaching for powders and liquids from different jars and began to delicately add them into a small cauldron, and gently stirred the mixture. She took the mushrooms they had found that day, cut them and added them to the mixture, before taking a mortar and grinding them to a paste.
Suddenly her soles were away from John's face and she stood up and walked around beside him. His body remained frozen in the same position, but he had seen her lift up the small cauldron, and he heard her kneel down beside him and place it beneath his erect cock.
She sat back down and again rested her feet on the stool in front of his face, but this time her attention was fixed on him. A layer of black dirt from the floor now covered her long, wrinkled soles.
"Your Goddess is very happy John, do you know why?" she purred with excitment in her voice.
John's head moved side-to-side, mirroring the slow side-to-side motion of her long, wrinkly, dirty sole. She laughed as he drooled on the floor, his mouth agape and his eyes fixed on her soles.
"No you don't, do you John? You don't know much," she laughed, "but your Goddess has just mastered a potion she has been working on for a very, very long time. No one has been able to carry out the ritual I am planning in quite some time, and when I am done... well, let's just say I'll be able to get up to some of my old tricks! This calls for a celebration."
