When Joanna was sixteen, she discovered an interesting thing about herself. And it happened by accident, too. She was seeing a guy back then, a tall, sporty dude, who was fun, but also quite annoying - in that he constantly made fun of her. She remembered him coming over once: they were just going to hang out. Her parents weren’t there. She asked the guy to go to her room while she fixed up some snacks. When she walked in, she found him on her bed, all comfortable, and his long legs stretched out along the sheets, and his large feet, clad in the dirtiest white socks she’d ever seen, were right on her pillow. The sight was so… shocking to her; she spent at least fifteen seconds just standing there and staring at his socked feet mashing her little pillow. The then-boyfriend noticed her looking and gloated as he gave that pillow a playful squish. He considered light bullying to be entertaining. Joanna thought it to be hot. Still did, to her own peril. When her then-boyfriend left later that night, she sheepishly approached the bed and buried her face in the pillow, which kept quite a bit of his foot funk.
Years of exploration followed. Joanna discovered that she liked being humiliated and bullied - consensually, of course, even if sometimes she dreamed of far more extreme things. And there was something about feet, specifically, that really pulled her strings. She’d frequently offer her boyfriends foot rubs, and the type of men that she dated would typically go for it - and then get hooked. It wasn't just about the massages, although Joanna was damn good at those; it was also about the way she did them back then - eyes locked onto the feet in her lap, very focused on the task, immediately reacting to any requests, often eager to kneel at the foot of a bed. It was an act of submission she performed in a particularly captivating way. She herself would not be able to explain it; like many foot fetishists, she'd just say she enjoyed the feeling and the weight of a foot, the texture of a sole, the odor invading her nostrils, all about it, extending further towards the foot rubs being an act of service. The more dominant boyfriends of hers would take it further by ordering her around, sometimes telling her to plant a kiss on their toes, but not much more than that. For all of them, this was just a quirk of hers, and they ultimately were hoping to get some in the end.
Justin wasn't like that. He was different. They met through a common acquaintance; an ex of Joanna's told his new girlfriend of the strange foot-loving girl, she told someone else, and somehow the information reached this tall young man who got rich early from some very fortunate investments. She knew he was different the first time she met him. More demanding, more dominant, infinitely more exciting, because he knew what to do with her and how to push her buttons. And he wasn't shy about it, either. He stomped all over her face the first time they hung out together, and she could not hide how much she enjoyed it; that first evening ended with her sleeping at his feet, curled up around them. Footrubs stopped being something she did for her SOs with him; it was a routine now, an expected, baseline thing he wanted. Their games quickly got into a D/s realm with her walking around wearing a collar and often serving him in new, unusual ways; he liked to relax in front of a TV with his feet resting on her back, he often wanted her to do his errands, and, once he learned of her little teenage experience with the pillow, he made it a rule that his gym socks were always stuffed in her pillowcase. But that wasn't enough.
Dating Justin was taking a toll on Joanna's life and career as his expectations often meant that she had to leave her job earlier than her bosses were okay with. Her friendships started falling apart. Her family couldn't see her as often. She tried to bring it up, and she expected him to dismiss her concerns, but he didn't; instead, he listened carefully. At the end of it he told her:
"Jo, you're just trying to do too many things at the same time. I think there's a solution, though".
His solution turned out to be rather devious. He got a black market copy of the newest Shrinktech product and suggested that she drops her job and tries out being 'his little toy' full-time. She was apprehensive at first, but he got her to agree later, when she was moaning, half-naked, with her face buried in his meaty soles. Then it was done. Joanna was reduced in size to mere inches and was given a new set of rules.
Her existence now revolved around Justin and the feet she knew so well; wide, meaty, well-shaped, they became a major part of her little world. "Treat me like a god, Joanna", Justin told her, idly mashing her little body while looking at himself in the mirror. "Just stop thinking about all that other shit and think about me". And now that she truly had nothing else to do with her life, she tried to follow through on his advice - and, with her submissive self now allowed full expression, she did find something in it. Sure, sometimes she wondered if it was better to just leave him and go on with her life, become a lawyer, start a family - but the next moment his thick soles were in front of her, and she, on her knees, naked and weak, went into a worshipful frenzy. There was little else she could do; she'd always adored Justin, but now he was massive, godlike, perfect, and he desired her to only be focused on worshipping Him. The few times she'd tried to speak up again he usually shut her up by drumming a toe on her tiny face. She'd learned since then, accepted that meeting him led her to her destined place in life - beneath His handsome feet, cushioning His step, serving His needs, helping Him relax, let Him assert his own dominance by always being there when he needed to literally walk all over a human. Justin became her life, and all too soon she was too far gone to ever ask for anything different.