Practice Makes Perfect Anime, Cartoon, and Video Game Femdom chapter 13 by StrangeServal

The is difficult and you think there on your knees under the table. The damp stocking squishes unpleasantly in your hand, and the cheesy aroma is now a invades n your sinuses. If you do a good job, this might be a permanent position. If you do a bad one, she might decide you're more trouble than you're worth and you lose your only shot at a steady income.

You decide to try your best. After all, your already down here, and her foot stink can't get any worse. You begin, kneading the arch of her foot through the stocking. It’s tense, there's a knot is right in the center of her dainty sole that you do your best to push out. "Ahh, that's... not terrible. Im sure you can get even better though." Megumin says from above, her voice sounds surprised and smug. 

You work your thumbs in a slow, circular motion, focusing on the muscles. You avoid the toes, the epicenter of the stench, for as long as you can. The dampness of the stocking begins to seep through, making your hands feel clammy. 

"Okay, now the toes. Don't be shy," Megumin commands, wiggling them again.

Gritting your teeth, you take hold of her big toe. The fabric is slick. You give a gentle, rolling pull, and are rewarded with a soft, satisfied sigh from above. As your work and knead her toes, it seems to push out the stink as you push out the tension. Conditions under the table are rough. You can really start to feel your face contort into one of disgust and your fingers break apart the crust built up on the toe section of her stocking. The texture makes you cringe.

"Hmmm, yes. I think the candidates will be very impressed with this level of service." You can hear the smirk through her voice. "And to think that this is your starting point. You really should've tried the service industry before adventuring."

You switch to the left foot, your movements becoming slower as your hands get sore. The initial shock of the smell has faded, replaced by a grim, grinding acceptance. This is your life now. You are a foot masseuse, hiding under a table. 

The hour drags on. Your knees ache. Your hands are tired and smell like Megumin's cheesy feet. Just as you're about to plead for a break, the tavern door creaks open. The hour of practice must be up. Now you have who knows how long while she recruits and you massage.

Who walks in?