Warning this is a very long story. Again, this is not short and contains a lot of content.
Welcome to another installment of what I’m calling from now on the Anthology Beta Chronicles (ABCs). The ABCs is meant to produce an alternative to the often unrealistic and over-fetishized fantasies found in memes and stories. I have had the privilege of attending large schools for middle school, high school, college, and graduate school. Additionally, a few beta/simp/foot fetish opportunities arose in various workplaces. At some point, I decided to embrace my beta status and live out my desires. While they have not always been positive or fulfilling, I find the sacrifices to be worth it. I hope you can appreciate me sharing past experiences for the internet to enjoy and I am happy to engage with others if you’re interested in getting to know me a little better.
I have a great story to share based on an experience that happened to me just a few weeks ago. I just have to share. Please bear with me if I am vague at certain points; I want to maintain being anonymous.
I have a friend. Let’s call her Caroline. I’ve actually got a lot of stories to share about her because she was very development in me becoming the simp and beta I am today. And all through mainly vanilla things! Caroline is very snobby and has very wealthy parents. But she never really liked most of the girls in our school so she didn’t have a lot so she wasn’t the stereotype of a cheerleader or wearing short skirts on any of that. And she wasn’t very outgoing. But through mutual friends we got to know each other and she noticed my submissive side. One day on Facebook after knowing her for a month or so, I had commented on a post replying to her in slight disagreement. She replied back, “That’s Miss Caroline to you”. I sarcastically went along. About two weeks later, despite numerous interactions I hadn’t said her name but when I did, she replied upset “WHAT DID I TELL YOU?” in front of a few of our friends. I was genuinely confused. She reminded me of what I was to call her by. She corrected me and everything went about normal as if nothing happened. This eventually escalated. In middle school she would have me carry her books from class to class. I’d dispose of her trash for her. Yes, she did have me kneel to tie her loose shoe laces. She even would tell me to say certain things to people to stir up drama or spread gossip. I was her little toy. I was blissfully happy. I can go on and if people want to know more about Caroline, please let me know. But this story isn’t about Caroline. It’s about her friend…. And well…. Perhaps something else.
Fast forward a few years. Caroline and I actually go to different high schools (our middle school was not a feeder to one high school). By the end of 8th grade, I called her “Queen Caroline” and she would casually call me a peasant or her slave. I’m not kidding. And our small friend group knew her personality and mine as well and treated it as if it was normal. So going to different high schools broke my heart. So we’d ask our parents if we could go to the mall together and I was unfamiliar with findom so she would buy me lunch or a drink out of her pure kindness (yes she was a bitch but also super loyal to her friends) and because she had a lot more money and in return I would go shopping with her and she’d try on things asking my thoughts and carry her bags and occasionally asked me to even help her try on shoes. This is how she would learn of my foot fetish. She understood she could use it to her benefit and I’m sure she felt she knew all my buttons. These shopping trips didn’t happen every week or even every month but it was our only physical interactions though we talked literally every day on FB messenger.
So with distance between us, she obviously had to make new friends. She only made three or four at her high school and knowing her really well, I know that’s all she needed and it didn’t bother her. She had only one guy friend and he wasn’t an alpha guy or anything but he certainly wasn’t a beta or simp like me. So she treated him normally and there was nothing romantic between them. However, she kept saying she wanted me to meet her friend Shelby. She said Shelby was very similar to her in virtually every respect. They were practically clones except Shelby was taller, more social, and a bit kinder. I heard constantly about Shelby and the pictures I saw of her were beyond beautiful. It’s like I developed a crush instantly. Caroline’s 16th birthday was around the corner and I got an invite to it. It was at her house in the backyard. She wanted a big fire but also as elegant a party one outdoors in the backyard of someone’s house while wearing casual clothes can me. Caroline didn’t live in a neighborhood, her family had a house valued at over a million dollars (I checked Zillow) with lots of property.
So on the day of the party, I wore blue jeans and a conservative dark gray hoodie. This was the fall of junior year and the weather had gotten pretty cold (hence acceptable weather for a bonfire). I forget what my gift was- it wasn’t extravagant or anything. Well I spot Shelby as I walk into the backyard. There were only seven or eight people- and only one other guy, the individual I mentioned earlier. There was only one other person I knew aside from Caroline and that was our mutual friend Karen from middle school who went to my high school (remind me in the future to share the Caroline and Karen jointly using me moments). I walked up to Shelby and introduced myself with a joyous smile on my face: “You must be Shelby. I’m Ryan. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She looked back on me and replied with curiosity, “You’re the slave?” I kind of laughed it off but confirmed. She looked at me with no nonsense and said: “So slaves just casually speak to superiors that way now, hmmm?” I start to panic and profusely apologize but as soon as I started, Shelby fell over in laughter, grabbed my shoulder and told me she was kidding. I was very relieved. We got to know each other and hit it off very well and interacted with others and Caroline used my serving skills a few times throughout the night (I can expand upon in the future) and I knew Shelby was impressed.
Well Shelby and I continued talking. We talked on Snapchat and texted quite a bit. We didn’t see each other but got to know each other. And there wasn’t anything kinky or reference to me being Caroline’s slave or anything. Fast forward to the summer and now Shelby’s birthday is coming up. I get an invite to it and it’s at a nice country club and it’s much larger. Now, aside from Caroline, I don’t know anyone. The country club was close to Shelby’s house and Caroline was spending the night. Caroline asked me to stay throughout the whole party because there wasn’t really anyone to talk to for her. So I did. As things were wrapping up, Caroline insisted I help with the clean up. So without argument I began to do so. Shelby’s mom who I just met that day said I didn’t have to help but I insisted on doing so and told her to relax and that I’d handle it. Her mom was quite tall; I could tell that’s where Shelby got it from. She was very gorgeous and her feet were beyond beautiful and obviously freshly pedicured. But she was also extremely down to earth. I insisted to her that I’d clean up and not to worry. So she sat down with her two friends (I’m assuming neighbors of some sort) and chatted as I cleaned. At some point she got up and had said something to her daughter who was sitting with Caroline talking. Her mom was just passing by and I don’t know what was said. I just kept working.
When I had finished, I walked up to my two friends and Caroline looked up at me as I stood in front of them. She said, “Ryan, I need you to be a good sport about something.” I nodded without speaking. She went on, “Shelby and I are fighting because I got her a birthday gift months ago and she said that doesn’t count and that I’m the only friend who didn’t bring a gift. So, I’m giving her a slave. I’m giving her you.” To be honest, I was kind of conflicted: 1) I’m embarrassed this is happening, 2) I’m starting to get really turned on by the thought of serving Shelby as a slave, and 3) I was a little confused and upset Caroline would just make a decision like that apparently so off the cuff. Shelby seemed mixed as well. She said it was kind and funny but also a cop out on Caroline’s part. Caroline asked if I’m good and I could only nod. At that point I was instructed to get on one knee and pledge loyalty to Shelby as my other queen. I was shaking. But I did so.
And you guys want a let down? This didn’t really mean much. I didn’t see Shelby once the entire senior year. There were two or three jokes about it over Snapchat now and again but literally nothing of it. I didn’t see Caroline as often either. Sorry to be boring and all, but that’s the reality. So come to the end of senior year. I’m going off to a major university a few hours away. Caroline goes eight states away for school. Shelby decides to go to a private school a few hours away but more than an hour and less than three hours (intentionally keeping it vague) from my school. Despite some freshman year action with some other girls, nothing really happened. We all went our ways. Well, turns out a few girls between freshman and sophomore year of college went on a major vacation out of the country (a trip I couldn’t imagine being able to afford) and there was a huge falling out. I get word that Caroline and Shelby are NOT friends anymore. Major stuff happened and I’ll just leave it there but trust me, it was not good. But here’s what I would say, the fault is about exclusively Caroline’s. She even booked a flight home early and left everyone. In retrospect, it wasn’t out of character what she did. Like I said, she was really loyal to a select few people and pretty much a bitch to everyone else. But she turned on some people and treated them the same way. She had gotten a bit shorter with me and tested some of our friendship bounds.
About two weeks later and a number of conversations I had with both of them, Shelby had made a comment saying “I know you two are close and you’re her slave and have been….” and went on about Caroline. I kind of shot back at Shelby with sincerity and honesty, I frankly wasn’t thinking of my dick or kinky stuff, and said, “A slave can’t serve two masters. I’m done with Caroline. Please, all me to be your slave and yours alone.” Now I’m sure you’re reading this with a kinky context but I swear this meant so much more. It was a level of friendship and trust and my genuine car for an individual I admired. Shelby isn’t kinky. She’s very rich, very intelligent, and very kind. She’s a dominant woman but also vanilla. So when I said I wanted to be her slave, I knew the limitations. Shelby accepted me as her slave. I don’t want to get into detail about my future interactions with Caroline and how everything went down but we haven’t spoken in years and I don’t think the other loses sleep over it. Having this attitude has also allowed me to cherish the good memories from literally a decade ago.
So now I’m really close with Shelby. And neither one of us are friends with the mutual friend who introduced us. So we develop this close relationship. However, later that year she got a boyfriend and he happened to go to the same school as me. So she made frequent visits to my apartment and I to his and we got to know each other decently. She did tell him I was her slave and he brushed it off as causal and so there isn’t a fetish element of a power play or anything but he’s definitely an alpha in his own respect (not athletic but he’s well spoken, well dressed, very confident, has since gotten a good job, and just knows how to treat a woman well). They have remained together to this day after a few years later.
I know this is a lot. So my apologies. But I hope you’ve enjoyed. I know you came for some action. So here it is.
Currently, I am in graduate school and I moved far away from undergrad which in itself is away from my family and upbringing. Shelby also moved far away and her and I live very far apart from each other but the context is we both live far away from home. She lives with her bf and works in a large city. Our relationship has been unique. I try to simp for her so hard but it’s not easy. She’s super dominant but she’s also vanilla and kind but also open minded and knows her worth. So she accepts me as a simp for her. I call her a goddess and praise her genuinely and I’ve been able to discuss things like wearing panties which she’s been very encouraging and helpful and I’ve been able to discuss my small penis with her (not sph) and she’s been very helpful with and I have begged for forever to let me pay for her pedicures but she insists she has enough money (she does) and I make a number of references wishes to bow down to her and to kiss her feet. She knows I worship and adore her (ok let’s do this: if enough people comment asking for screenshots of these interactions then I know people have made it this far and want to read what I have to say haha) but won’t embrace the full on “Bow down to me slave and kiss my feet and give me your wallet and I’ll humiliate you while my bf fucks me” persona. She’s her own person. And I adore her for that.
So here’s my confession: I’ve crushed on her for years. I still do. I want to be her bf so badly. I love her on so many levels. And she has a great family. And she knows me like very few people do. It would be a true female led relationship, one where kink isn’t the center (not shaming those who have or want that). But she accepts me as a beta male who respectfully simps for her and adores and worships her. So this is where we are. Which yes, I need to get to the action:
So here’s a detail I did not know when I picked my graduate school: Shelby’s grandmother and extended family live not far from where I live. Shelby visits a few times a year. So since moving, I’ve been able to see her twice when she flys in to see family. Well it turns out her grandfather made a ton of money. I mean a ton. I have to keep this part vague. But the family started a nonprofit and have philanthropic efforts that help a lot of people. Very well connected. Again, I can’t give away too much. Well, there was a large event a few weeks ago that if I give away like any details I would feel super paranoid about privacy but Shelby was flying in for the event and her mom was flying out too (who lives in the same city as my family). Well Shelby’s bf was supposed to come as well but he got sick and could not make it. So Shelby’s grandmother asked if the ticket could go somewhere else (trust me, this event was very high end) and she said she knew just the person. So Shelby reached out and asked if I would be her plus one for an extremely fancy and elegant event. And after learning the details I said I would. After all, I can dress nice and socialize with rich people and have good etiquette for a few hours.
So again, this was just a few weeks ago and I’ve been bursting at the seems to share. So I arrived at her grandmother’s house a few hours later and got to meet her grandmother for the first time and she was very impressed with me if I may have a humble brag. It was also good catching up with her mother. So I’m sitting on the couch next to Shelby. She has a perfect French tip pedicure. Beyond amazing. I’m seriously in love. It was great because it had been a while since I was able to look a then in person. Her beautiful size nine feet are to die for. I glance nearby to her mother’s feet. She has a gorgeous burgundy shade of polish. Very elegant. Her mom is likely a size ten. And remember, both of them are taller than me. I then look across the living room to the matriarch, and see Shelby’s grandmother’s mature but attractive feet with a pink pedicure as if it had been done early that morning. Her feet aren’t as large but they aren’t small either. I am able to notice how similar three generations of feet look together. Not only that, but the thought of how much money had to have been put into those feet combined had to have an astronomical price tag. I’ll note for context that each of these women were dressed for the occasion but none had shoes on because they were at home. But they were all so beautiful.
Perhaps selfishly, I felt determined to find a way to touch Shelby’s feet. Perhaps I could tell her in person how much I adore her and beg permission to kneel and kiss her feet. Maybe find some excuse to graze my hand across one. I could offer to help her put her shoes on. I thought a lot of things. Running every possible scenario through my head. One way or another, I told myself, I’m going to touch feet.
The event went well. It was a success. I also met Shelby’s aunt who plays a large role with the nonprofits and just like her sister, mother, and niece, had very attractive feet of her own that looked similar to the rest. She had a perfect shade of blue on her toes. Unfortunately, the opportunity escaped me to help Shelby with her shoes. At the entire event I was thinking of some way for something to happen. But nothing.
We went back to her grandparents’ place. Shelby and her mom changed (I had good conversation with her by the way since I had not seen her in a minute and she still lives in my hometown). I stayed in the kitchen and chatted with Shelby’s grandmother. I remained in my suit and her in her nice dress but had taken her shoes off. We had a completely normal discussion though I was slightly nervous by her wealth, power, and beauty. Earlier in the night, she had called me a charmer, a gentleman, and begged her granddaughter to marry me if things didn’t work out with her current bf (Shelby just gave the causal “ok grandma” response). Shelby’s mom had bragged on me to the grandmother as someone who knows how to clean well, referencing the birthday party. I should reiterate that these people are extremely wealthy and powerful and live a lavish lifestyle, but they weren’t arrogant, rude, and bitchy women. They were some of the kindest individuals I ever met. Truly, the embodiment of goddesses.
Which speaking of, I don’t know if you believe in a higher power, but if there is one, She was certainly looking out after me. One of the cats in the house knocked over a plastic cup with water in it. It had to have been from earlier that day since there was no ice. It startled us both and I asked her grandmother for paper towels and she said she’d take care of it. I said I’d do it, insisting in a similar manner to that of her daughter (Shelby’s mother) from years earlier. The grandmother grabbed paper towels, ripped some off, and put them on the ground and with her right foot began to clean up the water. I told her no no no that’s no way to clean but she said no. In the most ironic way to do so, I stood up to her. I knelt down in my nice suit. Right by her feet. And I asked her to hand me the roll of paper towels. She said something quick I don’t remember but I told her I was down here already and kneeling in my suit so she might as well. So she handed me the role of paper towels and I ripped some off and began soaking up the rest. Meanwhile, the matriarch maintained her foot on the bunched up roll she had made on her own. When I was finished, I stuffed all the used wet paper towels back together. I asked her if I could take the paper towels from under her foot. It’s at this point where my baby dick starts to take over. I find a way to touch her foot when grabbing the paper towels. I profusely fake apologize to her. She chuckles and insists it’s okay.
But I’m not satisfied. This isn’t enough. Just grazing a few fingers across a powerful foot isn’t enough for me in the moment. There’s a switch in my brain that allows my complete sub side to come out and put all shame and humiliation behind me to do something that I can later rub myself to and hence the reward is worth it. So if I’m going to act, this is my moment. I ask this elderly but elegant woman standing above me if her foot is wet. She said it is. I said, “Lift it up and let me dry it off.” She looked down and said, “It’s quite alright” and whether she was finished or not, I looked up at her at her and said “Ma’am, I’ve cleaned up this much and my suit already has to go to the dry cleaners, allow me this privilege.” The matriarch’s voice went up in pitch asking the word, “Privilege?” while simultaneously lifting her foot to me. I dried her foot and went I finished, I set it down on my knee as I was kneeling (she leaned against the counter) and she looked down (I presume since I was looking at her foot) and said, “I don’t know if I have met such a sweet boy or chivalrous you g man in my life”. Cupping her foot in my hand, I make a suggestive lean of my head towards it and asked, “May I?” She looked down and I made eye contact as she said, “You may.”
I leaned in and my lips touched to foot of a woman I had only met hours ago. A widow three times my age. I can only imagine where those feet have been. How many shoes had been worn. How many pedicures but also how much. Most importantly, how many lips had kissed her feet. Was I the first? I have no idea what her relationship with her late husband was. I am just a young and naive boy. Here, there is a woman of power and prestige who so elegantly carries herself. And in this moment, she allows a friend of her granddaughter to pay respect to her through the humble act of kneeling and kissing feet.
My lips touched that foot three times. First a kiss on the upper part of her foot. A second kiss on the big toe. And a third right on the other toes. It took all of two seconds to do it. I’m constantly replaying the moment back and forth in my head. I realize that moment, that quick and unexpected moment, is what my fantasies are really all about. It wasn’t a young hot woman in leather commanding me to lick her boots or worship her feet while I was naked and in chastity. This was something far more powerful. I am kneeling in a nice suit with an expensive tie and pricy shoes (through I was wearing nice purple VS panties underneath) kneeling before a matriarch with wisdom and experience allowing the submission of a dumb, young footboy. I recognize that more so than any model/femdom/woman on the internet or any young woman I have simped for in my life, it was this individual who allowed me for the first real time in my life to experience true femdom in my belief.
I can now say I have knelt before a goddess. In humility and respect I was allowed to worship a true deity of wisdom, power, and elegance. This matriarch has experienced so much life and accomplished so much, I know nothing in comparison to her. I could serve no higher purpose than to offer my soul to her and give myself freely to her. But I know that can never happen. And in an instant, the fantasies and fetishes begin to flood in. I could be her live-in maid! I could offer to lick her shoes clean! I could be her footstool while she watches tv! But those are all fictionalized scenarios. Ones yes, I admittedly dream of. But perhaps those ruin the one experience I did have. In my wildest dreams, I would not expected virtually any aspect of what happened to be the moment I feel I reached this high.
After the kiss, I lightly placed the most divine object I touched in my life on the ground. I took one last look at those gorgeous feet with the fresh pink pedicure. I stood up and looked at the matriarch, perhaps I could even call her my matriarch, and could only say “Thank you”, but I did so with class and confidence- unlike my usual beta self. She smiled and replied, “We need more boys like you, Ryan.” Shortly after, Shelby’s mom returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later so did Shelby. The four of us stayed in that kitchen for an additional two hours talking. This went on as if nothing happened. When I had to excuse myself for the night, the formalities were normal and I’ll be honest, I didn’t interpret any hint from the goddess I knelt before about what had occurred. Shelby did walk me out to my car and said our goodbyes. In hindsight, it’s kind of ironic since Shelby’s feet were the ones I wanted to worship and arguably, she actually now had dirty feet from walking out barefoot to walk me to my car. But after what happened, I didn’t feel the urge or desire to submit myself before Shelby or get any foot action. Ironic, isn’t it? I spent years adoring and fantasizing about Shelby’s feet. And not only am I friendzoned, but it is the foot of her grandmother that worship. And I have zero regrets.
I don’t know if Shelby found out. I texted her later that night and expressed sincere gratitude for the day and getting to see her and her family. She said she had a really good time as well and said her family said they loved me “especially” her grandmother. I don’t know what is meant by that. I choose not to really think about it. My worship and adoration of Shelby is still very much real. And if anything, she is the descendent of a goddess so why isn’t she a goddess herself? Like her grandmother, she is elegant, intelligent, graceful, powerful, and divine. Shelby is a light in my life and provides guidance and wisdom despite being a few months younger than me. And so I continue to explore my worship of the goddess and what I believe to be one of the individuals who embodies it to be worshiped as the deity Herself.
And I can share that progress has been made. That’s the primary reason why I have so impatiently waited to publish this (in addition to its sheer length). In case you can recall from earlier in the story, Shelby has a summer birthday. Well, that day came once again very recently (since I saw her). I got her a real gift and offered a BD poem as asked for a moment to plea with her. She granted me permission. I stated my case once more and begged to pay for her pedicures- a request I have spent about five years repeatedly asking to do. I hadn’t asked in a few months but I took to birthday opportunity to do so and insist it be a bd gift to her. She accepted the offer. I don’t know what changed. Life situations? Seeing each other recently? I’m not sure. It could be a goddess above or on this earth who has shown mercy on me. I have been awarded this privilege I will cherish deeply.
Shelby is very likely to marry her boyfriend. It’s only a matter of time. And in a lot of respects, I’ve come to peace with that. Who am I to get in the way of a goddess pursing happiness? If anything, I should be a tool to aid in the happiness of women and offer myself as service to womankind. I’ve been thinking recently about paying for her pedicure right before her wedding day. What a perfect role for me to play. It’ll likely be the last opportunity I’ll get to serve and worship her in that respect. I’ll look down the aisle as her divine feet grace the floor with its presence. I know for a fact her bf doesn’t care about it/what her toes are painted. But for me, it’s of the upmost priority. Perhaps my eyes will glance away from her feet and my eyes make contact with her grandmother’s feet once more. Perhaps it will be that same shade of pink as when I first met them. I wonder if the matriarch of the family would have a date for the wedding. She certainly will have a hotel room of her own. For now I can only dream of that day and hope that despite losing any chance of the feet I had dreamed of for so many years, I can find comfort and love in submission before the feet of a true goddess, one three times my age but a million times my superior.
I hope you enjoyed this experience of mine. New long-form stories every 25 followers I get so the quicker, the sooner. Please follow, share, comment, and feel free to DM me if you want to chat. After 25 new follows, the next installment of ABCs is the follow up to my Sophomore Simp Story and then 25 follows after that, it’s the first time I simped for a girl (I swear its not one to miss). Thanks!!