Smelly Foot Stories Novels & Stories

"Of course I do. My ribs hurt for a week." "You were so small," he mused. "You were standing there with one shoe off, staring at that dog like you were waiting for it to give you directions." I remembered the smell of the dog. It was a heavy, sour reek—not like a wolf, but like something that was rotting while it was still alive. White foam had been dripping from its jaw, bubbling on the cobblestones. I’d been cornered. I’d lost my slipper in the mud two blocks back, and my bare foot was freezing. I had begged the dog to spare me, but it was too crazed to understand basic communication.

Chapter 2 Sophia’s POV “The sound of a deep voice like yours sometimes. The way fabric rubs right against my clit when I walk. Even the smell of clean male skin or aftershave. It’s humiliating. I feel like such a fucking freak.” “My last doctor just gave me antidepressants and said it was all in my head, just anxiety. But it’s not anxiety. It’s like my pussy has a mind of its own and it wants cock twenty-four seven.” “I wake up soaked and aching every morning, I go to bed soaked and aching every night, and in between I’m fighting the urge to grind against anything I can find just to get a little relief.”

“And I hate coming to this place too. It’s always so irritating and smelly.” “I can smell why.” I nodded. My sensitive nose itched at the heavy, damp, and icky smell. It was like something had died in the water, and though its dead body had been removed, the smell still clung to the air. My eyes twitched, picking up the movements of small, four-legged creatures roaming about. After a few more minutes of walking through what I suspected was an underground tunnel, we stopped, and the sound of knuckles hitting a door echoed through the empty space.

She likes to tell me stories or how pretty I am. The other thing I notice is the smells. Besides the medicine and antiseptic smells, I notice a dank, mildew, old blood and dying flesh smell. I am not in a hospital obviously. Have I been sent to the dungeons already? Have all these people been sent to the dungeons with me? Did they do something to anger Alpha Thomas? I need to wake up but no matter how hard I try to open my eyes they just won’t obey. I try to move my toes, nothing. I try to move my fingers and they won’t listen. This is so frustrating and tiring.

Goosebumps erupted on my arms and legs. I climbed into the tub and tried to relax. It felt good. The maids scrubbed my skin mercilessly, but I did not tell them to do it gently. I needed to feel clean. At this moment, I felt dirty after spending more than a month in a dirty ship which smelled of fish all the time. At some point, I even got used to the fishy smell which horrified me.

I was spared further interrogation after Roddy piped in with the story of his week, which seemed to be going tragically the opposite direction - but the telling was up to his usual comedic standard. Then, suddenly, in walked a woman who was the visual equivalent of a needle pulling off a record. Roddy trailed off mid-sentence in his vivid description of the smell of his patient's foot fungus and stared. It was a very male stare, so Jay and I followed him first, but the ladies soon after with curiosity as to what had arrested our attention so.

Usually my visits were once a month, now they were becoming excessive — way too many for my liking. I grimaced as I allowed my bare feet to lead me inside the bunker. The first thing I would do once I got back to the pack house would be scrub my feet clean. I opted for walking on my toes, to make me feel a little less uncomfortable. The Alpha's scent masked the usual putrid odor that filled the place but it had changed slightly — sandlewood, cinnamon, with hints of lavender. Or maybe more than slightly.

"Hey, why so serious? Hey, look at the store in front of us. There are many women! What a heavenly sight to see! Come on, let us play there! You know, I can get you a girlfriend all you want at this moment. But wait, why are there so many Westerners here? It looks like they are everywhere. Well, I just noticed." "You just cannot understand my side, because you are not in my shoes. And, about your observation, read more history books." "I am not really in your shoes, and I do not want to be, because doing that will make me suffocate to death. Ew. Gross. Have you ever heard of an athlete's foot? The fungal infection?" Tanashiri laughed aloud at his joke and tried to make Master Qui feel better

Then they made us kneel in the big shower area. All three of them pissed on us, hot acrid streams hitting my tits, my big belly, my face. The strong smell rose up as Mom and I opened our mouths and swallowed what we could, coughing and crying but so turned on. We licked each other clean after, tongues sliding over wet piss-soaked pregnant bodies. We went back to the table dripping under our dresses. The smell of sex and piss probably followed us. People stared hard. Victor left a huge tip and we walked out slow, cum running down my thighs with every step.

I raised my head up to catch the man looking at me scornfully before he walked away, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the cold, damp air. The place was a nightmare. It was not only dark and cramped, but it was also smelling like rotten flesh and feces. I could even hear the sounds and noises of the rats running about, their scurrying feet and squeaks making my skin crawl. I never liked rats! I felt grossed out, but my feelings of fear and worry were higher on the scale.