“Hmmm…” the tired, ever-serious captain sighs and rubs her palm against her forehead. “You’re still so young…and, frankly, pathetic. I don’t see the need to make you walk the plank, and I doubt you’d survive being turned in with the rest of your crew—especially after what you did. Really, however unintentional it was, you’ve been a great help to me.”

You’re so shocked at her sudden streak of sympathy that you break your meek floor-gazing to stare at her—then immediately look back down when you meet her glare. It’s almost enough to distract you from the shame of your failure.

Did she really mean it? Was she…going to let you go?

“But,” she snaps, eyes back to boring into your head, “I can’t let you off the hook so easily. You’re still a pirate, you still served them and participated in their plunder. Not once did you decide to disobey, or escape. You’re not innocent. Far from it, actually.”

Your heart sinks in your chest. So you weren’t saved after all…

But, instead of getting up and ordering you to leave, or worse yet, throwing you to the sea dog, she continues to sit and stare straight at you. You shrink back at her piercing look. It was like she was pulling your soul out your body and inspecting it, as a juicemaker would their wine.

She covers her mouth, squinting at you for a good, long, terrifying moment.

“Perhaps there’s still hope for you, though…”

A pause quiets the room. Hope flutters in your chest. You’re pretty sure you’d take any chance she gives you at this point…

But then, she reaches down, and…unzips something—?

The very next second, her feet all but slam onto the desk, bare, wrinkled and within inches of your paled, fearful face.

“Lick, worm.”

You flinch. Your eyes widen. A retort chokes your throat as your almost supernatural submissiveness wills it back down.

Is she crazy?! She couldn’t seriously be asking you to…

But when you look up to her, and see her judging sneer, it becomes clear that she is. Your eyes sink back down to her bared soles, watching as they flex and scrunch, as if to punctuate her demand. You gulp dryly. The sickly, fear-stricken pallor on your cheeks turns to red hot shame, the notion of what she wants you to do fully sinking in—along with your genuine consideration of her implied deal. Was it really worth it? Even if it meant giving up the last bit if dignity you didn’t even know you had?

…Yet, as your shame piles up, turning your face as bright and red as a freshly ripe cherry, you can’t help but continue to eye this mature woman’s feet. They rock back and forth, still oh-so-close to your burning cheeks, toes splayed and curled in rhythmic sweeps. And as your eyes follow, the thoughts in your head dull. What seemed so terrible and mortifying just moments ago is starting to seem more—well, not just sensible, but…right, somehow.

(If you were in your right mind, you would’ve curled up and died just hearing yourself think that.)

For some strange reason, despite how debasing It’d be, despite how humiliated you’d feel, and despite how bizarre all of this was…you listen.

Your breathing slows. Your eyes lid. Your head tilts forward, tongue stuck out…

And despite everything, you lick.

And lick.

And lick again.

Before you know it, you get into a rhythm, tracing your tastebuds from the base of your new captain’s heel to the tips of her toes, alternating between them with each and every brush of your tongue.

~~~~

You don’t know why it’s so easy—to lose yourself to this. But it is…

~~~~

“…Good. Very good. You know your place already…”

You shiver hard. A cool, tingling feeling trails down your spine. She spoke so warmly to you…

Your mind slips deeper, deeper still into the strange, hypnotic trance her feet have coaxed out of you. Your tongue, ever so diligent, resumes its laps against her soles. Your nerves fade to nothing. All you can think about now is the nice, cold chill gracing your tongue as you trail it along the mature wrinkles of this unrivaled, legendary cookie of the sea.

She’s right. You are a worm. You are beneath her. Even letting yourself lay a single, solitary finger on her powerful body is a sin worthy of the plank itself—but she’s merciful, gracious enough to let you enjoy more. To lick. To prove your faithfulness to the harsh mistress of Earthbread’s seas.

And that’s exactly what you’ll do.

“Hah. Your loyalty is apparent…come back here, boy. I think I’ve found just the position for you among my crew…”

…

“Good afternoon, my captain! I’ve come to say we’ll arrive on shore a few hours later than planned; we’ve had to course correct after that freak wind from earlier. I hope it doesn’t trouble you…”

The toes on Captain Ice Cookie’s left foot all but gag you as someone comes into her room. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you dutifully suck in response, enjoying the cool, smooth feeling of her right foot running itself through your hair all the while.

“…Hmph. It’s fine, lieutenant.”

You can feel her muscles tense as she sits up in that same straight, proud way she did when testing your worth. Obviously, she didn’t expect company.

There’s something to be said about your being able to tell how relaxed she is, all from your lowly position at her feet. Whether good or bad is all in the eye of the beholder. But nobody’s beholding what’s going on down here…this is a sight only you’ll get to see. And how lucky you are to say that’s the case…

…You take the moment to place a few soft, reassuring kisses along the ball of your captain’s foot. She sinks back into her chair, and you can feel her relax once more.

“Very good, very good!”

…

It seems the uninvited guest wasn’t leaving quite yet, though.

“Hum. May I ask you something, my captain?”

“…You may.”

“When we were apprehending those pirates a few days ago, I remember seeing a meek young lad among them. Shivering like a leaf, the poor thing! He must’ve been forced into their crew…ahem, anyway! I noticed you take him aside. I know he’s probably off the boat by now—”

You grin. If only he knew where you really were, drooling over his superior’s toes—or what she was doing to you, forcing them into your mouth and using your face like a doormat (not that you mind)…

“—but, please, I only ask: is he alright?”

For the second time ever, you hear Captain Ice Cookie chuckle. You can only imagine the surprise on the lieutenant’s face; she doesn’t seem the type to ever laugh. Or to sound as amused as she does right now…

“Haha…in his own way, yes.”

A beat passes. The silence in the room is palpable. The only sound is your breathing, labored due to how full your mouth was, and so quiet that it couldn’tve reached anyone’s ears but your own. At least, you hoped it didn’t…

Your captain and mistress tenses up once more. “Now, if that is all, I suggest you be on your way.”

“Ah! Um, yes, my captain. That will be all, yes. Haha…”

Footsteps trail out of the room, and the door shuts with a gentle thud.

Instantly, all the hidden stress within your superior dissipates, and she lays back in her comfy chair while your mouth faithfully tends to her tired soles. She pulls her cool, pale digits out of your mouth—and immediately shoves the other, less-pampered set inside, filling it once more. Now that the both of you are finally alone again, you can sigh freely…

…Only to yelp as the throbbing erection inside your pants pressed flat against your waist by the self-same tootsies you just thoroughly worshipped. A hot pang of pleasure rides up your spine, and you find yourself relaxing much like your mistress. Your vision goes blurry.

“It seems the coast is clear. For now,” she murmurs, eyes closed while she kneads your length through your clothes. A new wetness forms on her toes, different from your saliva. Warmer. Stickier.

“Hmhm…If you wanted to prove me wrong when I called you pathetic, this wouldn’t be the best way to do it,” her gaze turns down to you, licking and kissing and gasping and shuddering, hard, when she twists her heel in just the right way. Though there is something to be said about how…lively, you are. It’s flattering, at the least.”

Your only response is to thrust your hips and tend to her arches with more vigor than before, rubbing, digging your thumbs in and working out the kinks, and of course, adding a little tongue into the mix. Seeing that smirk start to replace her ice-cold stare certainly helped spur you on. Same goes for the way her breath runs just a little bit heavier than before, or that slightly sultry tone that accompanies her steeled, seasoned voice.

The digits invading your mouth slowly, steadily plunge deeper with every push. Yet, no matter how overwhelming it feels, or hard to breathe it gets, you still lavish them with everything you have, sucking, licking, cleaning…

…But with each firm stroke against your shaft, and each squeeze of your lower head by cool, soft toes, it gets harder to focus on pleasing her. She obviously sees this, and for a second, you think she’s going to stop giving you this wonderful, electric feeling; it’s enough to make you beg with your eyes, glancing pleadingly up to her, meeting her stoic expression with a much more desperate one.

The jerking slows, and so does the pumping of her toes past your lips. Your heart sinks for a very different reason than last time.

“…Oh, fine. I suppose I can give my private a reward for his due diligence…”

Before you even know it, she renews her kneading and thrusting with twice as much effort as before, aggressively grinding your dick, clasping it with her first and second toes, jacking you with a ferocity you’ve never matched yourself. Your mouth opens wide, and her other foot fucks you in its own way, its rhythmic movements to find further purchase down your throat being eerily reminiscent of something else you’re not quite as fond of. But that’s far from your mind now; all that plagues your mind is a hot, heady rush of ecstasy while your captain gets you off.

You moan. You jerk. You grip the underside of the desk with your hands in some fleeting effort to anchor yourself to the world as your mounting orgasm rocks you.

With a muted yell, you cum, and spasm, and cum some more, staining the entire front of your pants—and Captain Ice Cookie’s foot—in a hot, sticky mess. She tenses and cringes when your load first touches her bare, wet sole, but you don’t miss the way she leans her leg back into it again, even as she pulls her other foot out of your mouth. One last spurt spills out of your crank before you finish. Right after, a wave of pleasant, buzzing tiredness washes over your entire body. You fall limp, utterly at peace.

Yet, it seems like someone doesn’t quite want you sleeping on the job just yet…

A sudden, grinding pressure against your still-sensitive jewels wakes you out of the afterglow. You look up, all attention on hers truly.

“Now where do you think you’re nodding off to?” she quips, a stern look on her face. “My crew never leaves a mess. And you’ve made quite a big one, private…”

The foot she used to masturbate you finds purchase on your lips again. With nothing but love and admiration for your captain, you dutifully answer her demands, and stick out your tongue once more…