UPDATE 2025: Completely new, rewritten and fully reworked story has replaced old entry! Enjoy!

Answering to Anubis

Synopsis: In ancient times, a thief of sacred temple artefacts finds himself facing eternal judgement from the jackal god Anubis… whose judgement is not only harsh, fetishistic and dominating but eternal too.

Disclaimer:
–Eternal Paw Worship
–Heavy Musk/Filth/Sweat
–Captivity/Humiliation
–Light Trampling
–Ancient Egypt
–Anubis (Dom)
–Antelope (Sub)

In the endless span of the ever-after, leaving the mortal world at last is akin to stirring from a dream. It happens in an instant. Decades of myriad details matter for naught, as one lithe brown Antelope named Eyep realized the moment his eyes first sprung open to find an afterlife before him and a past life behind him. Eyep, ever wide-eyed and youthful in his appearance, beholds such a charm of innocence despite the scoundrel life he’d lived prior. As a wanderer between the ancient cities such as Memphis or Thebes during the dynastic reign of pharaohs, pyramids, palaces, temples and blazing desert climates he was always surrounded by stark religious iconography and culturally ingrained faiths to the gods such as Ra, Sobek or Anubis. Many a priest and merchant alike salivated over idols or artefacts and knick-knack depictions of these very figures whom Eyep should’ve owed allegiance… but instead the cervine betrayed his mortal duty and invested his faith only in his own survival. He was often remarked as ‘light footed’ and ‘sticky fingered’. He had fostered a skill in swiping what didn’t belong to him, only to peddle it for a price later down the line. Eyep owned nothing more than the short linen garments hanging off his body and the sandals upon his feet but he was happy revelling in quick handed mischief. It paid for his meals and travels. The shelter he often took with other anthro men however was paid in other ways instead. If only he had truly understood the grave insults he made upon those almighty gods every time he stole from one of their temples or shrines. They witnessed his every misdeed and took solemn notes of the debts adding to his very soul. Now Eyep must pay the grave price for offending one such being in particular; the snarling vestige of death itself, Anubis, who acted as the guardsman blocking Eyep from his eternal rest. This price, (as he has slowly been forced to learn over the next few thousand eons of repentant service), is nothing short of slavery in its most degrading variety.

***

Anubis sits calmly, always radiating his regal demeanour. Currently poised in a golden throne of ornate establishment is this imposing nine foot tall entity of stark blackness bearing pointed upright ears, a stoic elegant face and a sleek gaunt body sculpted in succulence. His engrossing eyes of amber tint are traced in golden 'cat-eye' eyeliner. His form is enriched by luxury metals and white finery from the bangles and bracers of his wrists and ankles, his neck jewellery down to the loincloth and kilt... and then even to the golden rings adorning a number of his canine fingers and toes.
By comparison Eyep’s feeble antelope body deserves nothing more than to exist on his hands and knees, afflicted by overwhelming compulsions for obedience and reverence. For those aforementioned sins he deserves no autonomy yet he has been granted just enough of it allowing for the total freedom of fantasy, lust and cravings… as well as the reminder that his willpower does not belong to himself anymore. The skinny cervine has been reduced over time to nothing but a grunting, whining, moaning and gulping mess who lives as both an ornament and a thrall to this all powerful jackal. Indeed an embarrassing display of zealousy which he could never care for in life now controls the entirety of his eternity, though he finds little reason to complain given the spoils he relishes day in and day out, year after year, millennia after millennia.

Eyep has used this gruelling summation of time to mentally catalogue every detail of Anubis’s palace and its profuse magnificence. Un-aging stone upon all surfaces and pillars is a warm creamy white, smoothened to perfection with golden trim accented into its masonry. The walls tower ever so high, painted towards their apex in powdered orange and pastel green tones to liven the space. In some places the many hieroglyphs are large and foreboding artistic images. Each one depicts an established theme: the black jackal overpowering a featureless slave cowering at his feet. Outside these walls are the views of a perpetual twilight sky and an array of twinkling stars against its lilac ombré, or the dim orange dunes sleeping across the eternal desert beyond. Long musty rugs of elaborate design comfort the palace floor though it’s Eyep’s obligation to ensure, by any means, that large paw prints are not left stained in its fabric. Potted palms dance their fronds in the ever-warm breeze. Ornate pots, vases, cushions, furniture, statue plinths and other potted foliage also add to the luxurious decor. The atmosphere is maintained by the near-romantic flicker of flaming iron braziers, either standing or hanging like chandeliers. However, pretty scenery is far from the only indulgence. Countless punishments reign here in this god’s own personal paradise where time is immaterial existing far outside of the universe’s own schedules.

The present punishment is one of Anubis’s favourites to invoke, one he has aptly titled: ‘The 500 day footstool.’ This is how long the floor has warmed Eyep’s palms, knees and shins whilst trapping him on all fours without pause, with his back turned to the jackal. His bare buttocks and tail fluff almost press aim at the front of the throne. The antelope is faced away from Anubis in this manner so that his body can live as an extension to his seat turning it into something of a recliner. The flat of Eyep’s prostrated back provides room for those legs to kick up, extend across and utilise him comfortably. In these many drifting months of objectification Eyep still hasn't lost the sensual thrill that wriggles through every nerve in his body whenever Anubis stretches his slimming bare legs overhead until both feet stoop over Eyep’s shoulders and toy endlessly with the obstruction of his head.
The legs as a whole are weighty, given the god’s superior sizing. The top sides of those lengthy, lanky paws have occupied the antelope’s vision for immeasurable expressions of time; paws still firmly clasped tight inside their sandals. It’s a mesmerising sight to behold, at least. Rigid, firm and tender structures inside a pelt of silken fur… both jet black and lustrous like freshly mined oil. They taunt Eyep, always slipping in past his head from behind and rubbing their tops against his muzzle ensuring he never forgets his place.

The lucky antelope’s view of the throne room beyond this position is often interrupted by the intrusive tilting and flexing of canine toes capped in glinting golden claws. Anubis’s calf and ankle rubs between Eyep’s shoulder and neck. The appendage itself hangs over his collar bone sneaking in beside his blushing cheek and drooling chin just to eclipse his face. The top side of this foot edges up and down in muffling proximity providing Eyep with frequent fuzzy friction. His nose is forced to scrape up and down its toe ridges riding between the thickened extremity bones like guardrails, or parking inside the tight grasping gap of those digits that splay and pinch his nostrils shut in a soothing repetition.
Meanwhile the second paw presses hard against the back of his head using the nape of his neck to cushion its heel. The sumptuous warmth seeps right through the thick sandal leather, melding against every fold of the antelope’s skin, every contour of his skull, every bristle of his light brown pelt. The appendage cosies itself between his horns. The scrunch of its sole is audible, like the peeling of half-settled glue. The claws rake in Eyep’s fur while the toes passively squirm and furl letting the short follicles swish and flow against them, underneath them, or amid them. Meanwhile Anubis bears a most dreamy smirk which Eyep cannot see. He stares down upon the slave’s backside with a half lidded squint of dominance. He is absorbed with arrogance, unbefitting of a divine figure yet still somehow fitting his egotistical nature.
Eyep must listen to the sound of his own indignity from the gentle whispered rubs of physical contact to the heavy but slowly spaced inhales. He grunts quietly between lungfuls. His measured sniffs pull at the fibres of jackal fur between (and behind) the toes which Eyep’s snout has been matting down compulsively, smoothening a glossy path over and over to show the day's progress. His reward is the constant supply of fragrance so rich and raunchy that his nostrils feel sticky just from breathing it in. The smell is thicker than tar and hotter than an oven baked pastry. Every inhale pulls in an unmistakable waft of honey and caramel. Sweet, syrupy, golden heaven… yet irreversibly tainted with a smack of B.O.

The jackal’s fragrance is attuned this way for a special reason. By now Eyep possesses a deeply intimate knowledge and participation of his god’s routines and thus there have been too many times to recall when he would wake at the end of his god’s bed feeling the pull and dainty rattle of the unbreakable gold chain - leashed between his neck and Anubis’s ankle – only to see this jet black behemoth sitting at the sagging bedside equipping a fine paintbrush in one hand and his sandal in the other, painting pure honey spread against his own insoles in preparation for the sweltering day ahead. The leather would gleam in its acrid glaze from toe indent to heel indent, making the antelope drool and kneel like a pet waiting for their breakfast. Instead, Anubis would give nothing more than a patronising grin and he’d slip those honeyed sandals upon his bare soles knowing Eyep wouldn’t get a taste of that heat-infused adhesive-like substance until the day’s end. Or perhaps the next week, or the next month, or so on so forth until Anubis felt ready to remove his footwear at last knowing the honey could never sour or rot. Such constant habits have slowly ingrained the flavour into Anubis’s bright yellow paw pads and it’s all the antelope can smell whenever he inhales from those canine feet… especially now as he wades in these lucid daydreams brought on by the sheer monotony of roleplaying a footstool.

The ‘500 day footstool’ at least varies between each iteration. Sometimes, like now, Anubis stubbornly refuses to remove his footwear until its very end brewing his funk with added potency much to Eyep’s lustful impatience. Other times the iteration is spent entirely barefoot, or perhaps allowing himself the choice to kick off his sandals on whim. Eyep experiences a rotation of positions too, depending on his god’s mood. Last time he was made to lie on the warm sandstone flooring, tucked in the tight alcove beneath Anubis’s throne. His heaving chest would brush under the seat’s straddling underside. His face would peek out perfectly in view between the jackal’s discarded sandals. For those especially gruelling yet equally erotic 500 days Eyep’s gentle cervine face was suppressed out of view providing a prop, a mount and a cushion for both oppressively bare black paws intoxicating him with an unbroken supply of muffled inhalations. The time before that he had to kneel and face his god with a bowed head, letting his shoulders bear the weight of those extended legs instead while a sandal was left strapped to the antelope’s face like a leathery mask. The first time this punishment was enacted Eyep would lie laterally to the throne and have those sandal-clasped paws calmly stamp down on his throat and crotch the entire time always testing and teasing his stimulation without ever allowing himself to truly indulge. Here in the afterlife Anubis can stand as heavily as he pleases upon his plaything, never facing any physical repercussions for there is no death or pain without his permission. It makes stepping on Eyep’s windpipe and treating his face or body like a worthless doormat an inconsequential ease.

Despite the ferocity of these ‘torments’, that antelope - who was once playfully skittish and submissive in the romances of his life - feels entrusted enough to have these desires transfer over to his afterlife too. He dares not say out loud what this eternity would feel like if he -didn’t- host such a devious and obsessive fetish. Even proposing the idea for conversation’s sake could make Anubis strip him of lust with the simple snap of a finger, if only to humiliate him further. Luckily for Eyep, talking is strictly prohibited unless Anubis addresses him first. A being this almighty, absolute and immortal does not care an ounce for the pointless rabbles of mortal ‘small talk’... or even the inane fawning praise of someone trying to curry favour.
In silence Eyep is at least permitted to think his horny thoughts in private. He gets to savour his urges to act like an oven tray supporting the baking loafs of those lofty jackal soles. All he can think about as he awaits the end of this punishment cycle is the glory of witnessing that physical sizzle of musky vapours wafting off the jackal's soles when his shoes come loose; finally peeling off like charred melting slices of processed cheese from a griddle. Eyep blushes at the mental imagery. Even in death his heart throbs and jolts. All he wants is to breathe the visible tint of yellowed tangy foot steam or slurp and chisel away the thickened soupy bronze insole sweat that has been left to fester between sole and sandal insole.
He cannot deny that the wait is insufferable. Likely this is an intended part of the torture; a knowing and mean-spirited taunt from his god who understands every corner of his pathetic grovelling mind and what the denial of paw access does to one as obedient as Eyep. The months passing by are but a trifle to the jackal, (more like the passing of mere hours for a mortal). Anubis doesn’t care to ponder his slave’s perception. Nor does he care to sympathise. Their fate was written the moment Eyep behaved like a blasphemous puny insect stealing from sacred sites and godly offerings, thus deserving to be stomped and grinded underfoot by said gods for all time.
And so, here Eyep trembles on all fours still scrubbing the front of that one paw in grooves so rhythmic the motions become a lullaby, while the other paw sandwiches the back of his skull with authoritative poise. He can never succumb to the weight using him as furniture. Neither his arms nor knees ever rash or ache or wobble and collapse from strain. His labours are not haunted by exhaustion. He knows no need for sleep. He cannot thirst. He cannot famish. He only knows how to be a living footrest.

Subjectively to make matters worse, or more degrading at the very least, even here in Anubis’s paradise Eyep’s smutty servitude is a publicised matter. The god of the dead still regularly maintains a strict duty to perform, after all. During much of the blending millennia before now the antelope has had to exhibit his shame for all the unguided souls drifting afloat in a melancholic trance into the throne room, seeking their final judgement from Anubis. These souls inhabit the form of faint faceless shadow figures vaguely depicting their previous anthro bodies. They form together in single file a fair distance from the throne which they are unworthy to truly approach yet here they are witness to the bottoms of Anubis's magnificently large sandal sole presented in their direction, (hiding Eyep between them as he nuzzles into the paw). All but a pair of crooked horns and two floor-planted arms wobbling with hormonal intensity can be seen. The jackal performs his judgement with an almost automated muscle memory and an expression of boredom, imitating the notion that death is impartial. With one wave of a hand a spectral glittering feather, heart and scales are summoned in the air above. One is weighed against the other and, for better or worse, the soul transcends to their deserved place beyond. Regardless of the souls’ utter disinterest in him, the antelope always feels a tickle of embarrassment being seen in this position sniffing paws and lowering himself without any consent. Today though, there is no council… no queues and no interruptions. There is only the antelope and the jackal reserving their time alone together to celebrate another 500 day milestone coming to its end. This can only mean one thing for the scrawny cervine; he is about to be confronted with a long-awaited treat for his efforts.

Eyep’s drowsy eyes roll to a stop focusing on the paw top which gives his snout one last warm ruffling rub before it slips away and drags back up onto his shoulder instead; pulling away with a towed thread of drool whose connection to the antelope’s dewy lips is fleeting at best. A soft, trained moan slips from the slave. Anubis has his elbow propped on the arm of his throne and his cheek leaned upon his placidly curled fist. He smirks all the while as he reunites both paws behind Eyep’s head, burdening the spinal column in his neck by mounting the appendages closely side by side. The sandal treads have just enough grip to pull and pinch on the short brown fur, making Eyep wince with masochistic pleasure.
“Wretched thing… pitiful crawling lapdog,” Anubis snarls. His voice is a resonant majesty that hums in Eyep’s ears and vibrates his very being. It is like many voices overlapping at once yet all assertive and all with a bottomless well of divine energy. “Your commitment to servicing me remains entertaining and yet I am never entirely nourished… never content to admit you have properly repented. No amount of trampling can wipe away the stain I still feel upon you, though I am offered no urge to release you, in spite of your disgraceful existence here in my otherwise perfect realm. My brethren would have you banished long ago. Remind me, filth, why should I keep you here? Amuse me with your pleas. I command it. I want to hear you scrape for those meagre excuses again.”
Eyep gulps. It has been a century since he last used his voice yet it returns with instant rejuvenation. He knows already what his god wants to hear. He is honoured to demean himself for Anubis’s benefit. “I am yours eternal, my lord… I am… nothing yet I am everything you need of me. This is why I am kept. I am owned. Your godly body is too good for my tongue yet my tongue is still the brush and sponge that washes you. I betrayed you in life and I must be made an example to all mortals for all time! Who else could serve you so lovingly, than someone fighting to earn your forgiveness?”
Anubis is satisfied with this answer, despite no changes to his smug and regal exterior. With a deep sigh the jackal drags his sandal strapped feet in retreat gliding them heavily over the antelope’s levelled backside, raising his knees as they draw closer to him. His tightly packed toes curl over the leathery lip dragging their claw tips like a tingling comb over Eyep’s pelt. Eyep’s body shivers once the appendages lift off him completely. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to live unencumbered under a pair of canine legs. His heart thuds faster at the firm sound of them setting flat to the floor at the base of the throne, (in between the antelope’s own bare upturned feet).

“Turn and face me, filth! Let me see this supplication you so yearn to offer,” Anubis demands. The attitude is cold yet does not deny its own undercurrent of arousal.
Swiftly the tremoring Eyep repositions onto his knees for the first time in almost two years. The golden leash connecting him to the ankle clanks and jingles and drapes like a sleepy serpent across the floor. His big eyes glint at the sight of this monumental deity sitting upright before him. The posture parallels that of the monolith statues depicting Anubis and his kin often seen outside temple structures throughout his life… the very ones he robbed of the relics or trinkets worth selling. For now he cannot peel his attention away from the feast of canine feet plastered flat to the floor before him. Their hefty spread and lengths - a range of 45 centimetres at least - is daunting to the eyes. They fill the space between the throne and Eyep’s knees. Even the way they sink into their sandals… it is like lodging bulky juicy buttered slabs of beef, still steaming with heat and reeking of charred seasoning, onto helplessly flat slices of bread and expecting that bread to withstand. Eyep’s hands are numbing the longer he stares. He flexes his fingers to evade the sensation and wipes his palm sweat off against his own thighs, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. Anubis, (ever lush with ego), does nothing but wait and watch. His slave is too eager and it shows… he allows it, even if he should expect better.
“We own the day for ourselves. You will use it wisely. You will wash my feet clean and fill your mouth with their flavours. You will savour every last drop. You will waste nothing, not one sniff. Hurry and remind yourself that they are worth more than a mote of your entire existence, filth. Start licking!” Anubis suddenly growls.

Eyep folds like wet cloth hunching forward until he can feel his own ribs upon his lap. His hands splay against the stone either side of the paws. It has taken only seconds for his tongue to start scrolling up their furry black surfaces one after the other providing equally divided affection between the tops of each foot. Despite this his lust makes him disorganised, lapping in obscure angles and directions with haphazard aphrodisia... overlapping his own saliva tracks again and again. Silken fur is glossed down and dampened lick after lick but the appendages do not budge from their positions.
Anubis never bothers to lift or wriggle his toes even as Eyep’s endless bounty of saliva rains down the warm sides of his feet and spills against the overworked leather chops of his sandal soles. Moisture gradually swamps his appendages. It streams down between his high-knuckled digits. His toe fur is soon matted and tousled. His claws are varnished and dripping like leaky faucets. Droplets stain the sandstone flooring around him. It looks as if the jackal has been wading in the shallows of the Nile. Eyep works his tongue raw barely refreshing it with drool unless necessary. His innocent brown and white face now radiates red with blush. He has the expressive sluggishness of a drunk being lulled into their alcoholic slumber. The sounds he lets escape him are as deviant as their actions. He wets the leather straps shackling the feet inside the footwear, sometimes slipping his tongue underneath them and skating it amid the scarce space between material and fur where old sweat is often smeared in place.
It takes Eyep hours of cramming and snaking his tongue through the middles of these toes, or suckling the tips of their knuckles with seductive coercion, before they splay just enough to give him deeper access. It's like bubbling heat finally breaking free from the splitting of a baked pastry. These are the first fumes to truly escape out from those depths in all these months and the caustic pungent odour that strangles the air tell the story of two paws in desperate need of a wash. Eyep lowers his chin right onto the crests of the toes and nuzzles until blissfully sedated; sitting still and breathing loudly from his ever-active nostrils taking in that masterful scent of honey and caramel. The smell is more ‘burnt’ than usual but it does not ruin his appetite.

Patience and nonchalance embody the jackal, despite the aggression that sometimes rolls through his commands. He lets this darling antelope slouch and sniff from his dripping paws all they want because in the untouchable infinity of a god's domain there is no reason to rush. Anubis could feed his foot all the way down Eyep’s throat and have him gargle and choke and rinse the entire unwieldy appendage for the equivalent of one million painstaking years yet it would mean nothing to him and make no difference to his schedules. Neither of the two animals are able to age here in paradise… nor does Anubis have any pressing matters beyond the rudimentary judgements of weak, snivelling mortals.
In truth, the cocky canine had once spent a five year stint lazing in his palatial chambers sprawled in his god-sized bed of otherworldly silks and satins and lush feather pillows, basking in the constant euphoric worship of this creature knelt at his feet even then. With no capacity to understand tedious emotions like boredom or exhaustion anymore, Eyep would solemnly obey his duties there at the foot of the bed without complaint. Anubis could sleep and snore loudly for weeks at a time only to wake to the familiar graceful slurps and kisses and groping massages trailing along his soles just as they were when he'd first dozed off. Owning a plaything simply made eternity more fun. He struggles to remember how he persisted without one beforehand.

Eyep groans and grunts burrowing his face directly downward atop the toes trying to insert his slim pink tongue between their sweaty ravines hoping to graze the sandal insole surface with its tip at least, though Anubis repeatedly clenches his digits back together nearly crushing the tongue in the process. With a defeated moan and sigh Eyep then turns his head entirely on its side scuffing one cheek against the floor in front of the stoic toes, craning his neck just enough so that he can lick across their very fronts instead starting at one toe and riding over every digit on both paws until he hits the last. His tongue is buffered against each gold claw like a speed ramp slowing him down and causing small deflections of saliva. It may be more awkward on his body but this method works for multiple reasons. Not only does Eyep get to experience fur and claw with each oral pass but he also gets to narrowly scrape the very fronts of each compressed yellow toe pad, as well as the rounded curving fronts of both sandals. The small traces of flavour he finds along the way are miry and mulled like a wine left open to eventually spoil. The more Eyep soaks and softens the already-squashed leathers underfoot the more he extracts the taste of long-settled dirt specks and a faint corn chip funk. It sparks a feverish greed. He desires the whole cake not the mere icing from the spoon, so to speak.

"Questions fogging your mind, filth? Release them so you may focus! Speak!" Anubis intuitively barks.
"M-my lord," The antelope whines between breaths, "Why... do I feel such unbreakable bonds with your feet? What is it in a person's soul that controls such an unusual drive? I cannot stop myself. Am I under a spell? Is my true destiny to be a whore?"
"A whore beds others for survival, to afford food or even to seek another's company. You are much lower than any whore. You are even lower than a slave of labour. You are a slave of leisure, a forgettable hint of the perverse splendours owed to a god of my power... a tool of my own bidding and temptation. Though, other reasons apply. Your bond to me is strengthened beyond normal means for your only connection to earth, your skeletal remains, lie buried unmarked out of mind beneath the desert sands. Upon those sands in the years after your passing, devout followers of mine have erected a statue in my likeness. It stands tall in bare pawed authority directly over your burial site. Your bones are forever entombed underneath my sole, lying underneath me, trampled as it were, connecting your 'ka' spirit to me in a pact of death. We are bound by more means than a chain leash."

While the blushing, drooling animal ponders over this revelatory imagery he'd never been told until this moment, and he fawns over the row of delectable jackal toes mounting the sweat damaged lips of their sandals before his very eyes, a most heavenly scene takes places inches from his floor-nuzzling face. After 500 days of waiting, Anubis finally begins separating his feet from his footwear exposing the heavy concentration of mess that has been the epicentre of Eyep’s every waking dream for far too long.

Both jackal paws wriggle back from the slippery tightness of their toe bands, squelching the insole with their condensing weight. Together they tip back onto their heels ever so slowly and taunting, lifting out of each sandal like the separating of cheesy mozzarella pizza slices smushed face to face stretching out hundreds of thin greasy sweat strands between sole and insole. A crispy billow of nasty musky steam sweeps out from between them up into the air around Eyep’s stun-locked face like a cloud of asphyxiating pollutants. The honeyed stench is rancid yet indescribably inebriating... the purest of paw pheromones. The feet continue leaning and peeling from the flaccid sandal bottoms which stick and bend at first before breaking contact, clapping back to the floor. Webs of sweaty strands are replaced by a lazy overhead drizzle of droplets that pour over every exposed mound of pad flesh, hanging onto the contours of each meaty mound before dripping frequently. The paws stop moving once looming upright, mounting their dense heels directly into their own heel indents. It's the only physical contact they still maintain with the sandals. Anubis is back to grinning coquettishly. His lips curl and his lidded eyes punctuate his arrogance. A single brow is cocked. It's the look of someone showing off an impressive feat awaiting due praise.

Eyep’s throat is dryer than sand. His face burns hotter than a fever. His head spins in a daze when he first jerks it up from the comforting cradle of the floor and instead veers hungrily over the broad span of freshly freed sandals. His jaw quivers open and shut. He is speechless, again, at the reveal and the rawness of his god's beauty. Never has a pair of footwear been so mutilated and exercised by the feet that wear them yet all structural integrity remains undamaged despite the deep dunes and concave pits of impressions brutally worn into its tender surfaces. They sizzle like slates of coal upon a bed of embers. The pale barbequed steam dancing off the insoles is translucent yet lightly tinged in a brownish bronze hue. Eyep wants to faint when his eyes hover dreamily over the insole colours. The sweet tan brown of shoe leather he usually witnesses has been fertilised from heel to toe entirely staining every inch of insole in a much darker damper spoil of jackal sweat. Under the ripple of the many thin perspiration puddles each paw print indent is even richer in tone; a blackened pigment so dark the original colours cannot even be seen through its intensity.
Though it could never compare to the palatable dish of unfiltered grime and gunk displayed before him here, the L shaped positions of vertical paws standing openly against their own heel indents does ignite an age-old memory of Eyep's life when a similar tactic of teasing degradation had been used against him. As a mischievous and homeless street thief at the prime age of 19 the antelope had tried stealing from the market stall of a muscular Bengal tiger merchant. When caught, the furious feline decided to use Eyep as a humiliating example to scare away other thieves by sitting beside his stall in the same style used by Anubis now, though with crossed arms and a sneering fury, publicly dominating the young antelope who had to kneel and shyly massage the merchant's paws with his hands shackled in chains and a weighted plank sign hanging around his neck that read 'Thief!' for all the market to witness. As the sun rose higher and the day grew hotter those rubs would transform into garish mopping licks to keep the tiger in cool tempers. That was the first time Eyep had ever touched another man's feet, the first time he'd felt the rush of an awoken kink, the first time he'd been in captivity and... as events that same night would later unravel... the first time he'd been repeatedly forced to give oral sex. It was the catalyst for the way he'd continue his life thereafter. Perhaps the comparison is deliberate? It would not be beside this deity to taunt Eyep with imitations of his life's dirty deeds, if only to remind him he has always lived in deviant service to better animals.

Anubis nearly accidentally chuckles at the sight of his slave's bulging eyes and slack jaw. They cower on their knees and palms leaning so low their muzzle is fried right in the sandal's open airwaves though the forehead is still a few inches from brushing against the extensive waterfalls of tar that are Anubis's soles. Eyep's horns at least are close enough to arc forward and enclose the two muscled legs between their prongs.
"Look upon them," The jackal demands, stirring his slave from their memory. Proudly he splays apart every toe with dexterous agility, stretching the many strings of glittering sweat which quickly collapse into toe-crotch dew. "You cannot resist them. Who could?"
The antelope groggily lifts his snout from the vaporous insole smudges. His head feels heavy and his vision blurs when his hypnotised face roams in front of both paw bottoms. The heat makes the antelope sweat at the brow. The stink plugs his airways like melted toffee. These toasty fumes rising and wavering under his big button-sized nostrils have kick-back; increasing in potency with every whiff. The antelope looks half asleep as he lovingly studies the magnificence of the padded features blocking his vision. The malted fermented grime across Anubis’s feet is a buffet of abundance. Every piece and cluster and thread sticks to the natural adhesive of their sweaty oily sole glaze. Against the black honey-matted fur, or the sticky yellow pads each bulging like an overstuffed pillow, these time-weathered scraps of gunk and dirt and lint and sand grains have started to look like gunpowder sprinkled everywhere from heel to toe always glued hard and fast to its tasty coating. It amasses in between the ball and toe pads like a flavourful build-up; heated into a more sludgy pungency in the deepest pits of each digit. One lick of this would coat Eyep’s tongue in sweet, waxy fuzziness.
"Marvellous, are they not?" Anubis's holy voice is but a muffled echo in Eyep's twitchy ears. Eyep's muzzle tingles all over both outside and inside his stunned, gaping maw. Small wet fritters of toe jam are eked out when the jackal squirms his digits together side by side baiting the antelope into a slow dim-witted drool. The jackal continues to coo his sacred words: "So fragrant. So delicious. So clogged with grime and grease... a slave's favourite meal. You want my paws in your mouth. More importantly, I want my paws in your mouth. Start washing them, now. Don't even break to catch your breath. These are your orders, filth!"
And with a click of a finger, the cervine lunges eagerly to begin his work.

Eyep’s mortal brain is too insignificant to process this level of overwhelming instruction with so many vices to choose from, yet sensibly he starts his cleansing at the very fronts of these now vacated, savagely compressed sandals flopped out towards him brown and black and begging empathy. The instant touch of tongue sliding into the slope of four bumpy toe indents is a startling dose of sweaty flavour, like licking a patch of salt and cheddary shavings. Eyep is a fool for expecting the grimy coating to simply part like black seas for his tongue. Instead it's as effective as licking dried tarmac. Nothing changes except the zest of flavour imprinting on his tongue. It's so strong in fact even a well-trained foot servant who has dealt with Anubis's filthy footwear for eons still finds reason to gag and wince. Never the less, Eyep shakes off the erotic chill in his spine and smears his sodden tongue upwards all the way over the now drooping deflated toe band to the ball indent and up the arch never rushing himself and only creeping ever closer to the bare heel awaiting him at the opposite end.
Quiet panting moans bring a smile to the god's face when the tongue hits the heel at last, immediately slurping upwards on automation after having travelled across the sandal flatness prior. Undeterred by the sudden shift to a vertical climb, or the sudden change from slick rubbery insole to furry fleshy organic anatomy, Eyep longingly escorts his tongue up the foot still maintaining this one sequential slurp that started at the toe indents. The brush stroke of his tongue leaves glimmers of saliva in its wake. It pulls up the deep instep. It curves over the thick tenderness of a yellow ball pad. It tugs on the change in traction provided by this sticky caramelised flesh which still retains evidence of the old honey substance that had been stepped in 500 days earlier before the sandals were fastened tight. The sodium from Anubis's sweat makes the antelope's right eye twitch shut for a moment. He doesn't let this stop him. He finishes the lick over the squirming toe beans, large as they are, running over the last of the pliant flesh until Eyep's breathless face appears risen into view above the clawed digits. For an instant his fluttering eyes make contact with the jackal's high above. Then, without any hesitation, Eyep gulps the gritty foul tasting mouthful and lowers back down to the end of the opposite sandal, this time at Anubis's left foot, restarting the sordid process all over again from the patch of toe indents.

Every consecutive lap up the footwear and foot is an audible journey rife with squelching and suckling and moist mouthy trickles. The antelope's head steers to the slow flow of his tongue as it carefully curves and manoeuvres over every indent, as if scared to derail from the tasteful stains. He is an artist painting paths of drool which attempt to soften the density of those jet black grime prints, moving from leg to leg. Each time he soaks the fleshy pads and swallows the residue while claws curl against his tremoring chin. The heated surfaces of shoe and sole both feel calming against his mouth, inviting him back for more rounds again and again and again. Eyep is so entranced he hasn't registered that he has already performed this hedonistic ritual ten times per foot and yet he has no compulsion to stop, only to improve and alter his methods.
The route of steady licks eventually becomes evidential after another engrossing hour, forming a sparkling smeary trail of saliva embedding the leather with spongy dampness. When the antelope swallows and shudders and gazes with drowsy lust upon the footwear he notices to his shock that his efforts have barely chiselled into the rich layer of filth. The imprints are calloused over in their dark juicy crust of sweat-drowned lint and flattened dirt. The appendages ooze a slimy paintjob of honeyed grease and stuck hairs and splotchy crumbs. The faint misty musky steam percolates off every aforementioned surface especially where the pads are concerned.

Eyep's tongue feels thicker than usual. He slides it around the fronts of his teeth and the roof of his gums before realizing he is only merely spreading around the essence of Anubis's feet evermore. When he bends back down and begins a series of quick feeding slurps from every single toe imprint one after the other he understands why his sense of taste feels somewhat muted. The thickness of the dirt basting his tongue is so built up it blocks new flavours from reaching his taste buds. The only solution is to spend a few minutes rolling it around his maw sucking his own tongue until he can work away some of the dark salty residue.
Eyep looks up with big eyes catching his god leering down at him, still tilting their head against their fist. Nervously he mumbles, "I... I cannot lick your sandals clean at the speed you deserve, I'm sorry, my lord! I'll keep trying! I shall not stop until they look fresh and new!"
The towering jackal raises a brow and replies, "Why am I not surprised? No god can ever truly expect results from a mortal. Your kind are all so weak and laughable but such lesser qualities are what make you easy pets to mock and play with. If you had even a sparing fraction of my power you would be extravagantly more successful in every endeavour. Watch as I demonstrate."
Anubis leans forward over his small kneeling slave, making them tense excitedly at his approach. The jackal reaches down, catches one of his sandals in one hand and holds it up close to Eyep's frantically flaring muzzle. Another moan expels when Anubis grabs one horn and compresses that snout hard into the footwear, so hard the muzzle crinkles in distress and their eyes clench. He rubs the deep ball imprint around and around the snout tugging their nostrils against its foul cooked caramel smelling material. When he pulls the sandal back by a few inches - letting the antelope gasp for a stunted coughing inhale - he shows that the friction of their snout barely etched away any of the crud. Next Anubis rubs his own thumb up the same indent, instantly clearing a smooth plough right through the grime as though it were nothing but a delicate dust. He winks slyly at the astonished slave then briefly inserts his grime covered thumb straight into their mouth and rubs it around, pacifying them until they suckle and blush on the thick clawed digit like a feral animal at a petting zoo.

"You have learned the differences between us at last then, yes? After all the countless eons you have existed beneath me?" Anubis sarcastically asks, lounging back into his throne. "A slave should always know better than to question their inferiority. I find the attitude... insubordinate. You can apologise by hanging my sandals from your horns like degrading decorations for the next month. They will keep you warmed, for they never release the heat my soles have pressured into them no matter how long I insist on staying barefoot. Their scent will hover around your presence, too. Perhaps it may remind you not to pester your god with stupid questions."
Sheepishly Eyep nods his head, keeping his mouth shut and complying with the order. He picks up both sandals from the floor remembering ever so suddenly how weighty these footwear are, in spite of appearances. He can feel their sagging wear and fatigue. Likely for trillions of imperceptible years they have housed the deity's feet suffering proudly through every season of the universe's existence. They roast in Eyep's hands; hot to the touch. In haste, both of the steamy lengthy indolent slabs of leather are strung up onto the horns by their toe bands becoming ornamental headwear that dangle above the antelope's simpering face. He bites his lip unable to decrease his own giddiness. When he moves his head the pendant footwear wobble slightly, their very bottom heel edges just barely peeking in his peripheral view. Had the antelope's horns been any shorter they would've dangled their rank heel grooves right over his eyes.
Anubis admires the sight and nods approvingly. He grumbles a comment to Eyep: "Hm. You suit being my sandal rack. Behave some more and next I might store my toe rings around your genitalia, once I grow tired of wearing them."

Eyep doesn't even have time to stammer his way through his swell of gratitude before a colossal black and yellow paw skids up off the floor and floats with taunting clockwise motions around his muzzle, roaming only a single inch from his panting maw. For a moment he exists in its aura of natural warmth and stink. Drunkenly he tries to ram his snout forward into that detailed map of contours and swampy landscape, hoping for a thick firm tenderising smother of ball and toe pads but alas Anubis pulls away at the very last second. In its retreat the toes keep wiggling and writhing grinding their toe jam to a sticky powder between themselves. Such a lissom leg of slender black beauty; it bends inward and mantles atop the jackal's other knee. The toes keep wriggling even as the appendage balances on its side and the digits become a vertical stack. Anubis's gold traced eyes twinkle with coaxing invitation. His grin spreads and his digits flex backwards and forward boasting the ample bundles of yellow pads so profuse and rounded in shape.

"Ngh..." Eyep pants.
A downpour of sweat beads have formed across his hot forehead, heated now between both sandals. He crawls closer to the front of his god's throne, then closer again, until the long foot still settled against the floor slides all the way in between his knees and thighs tucking its girthy toe knuckles under the antelope's little soft balls. His effeminate cervine body throbs with waves of pure craving. Only seconds later he caves to his calling and turns his head to one side burrowing his muzzle as deep as it can go into the high-perched paw, feasting hungrily against its scrunching creasing malleable fur and flesh no matter how suffocating the overall odour.
Anubis growls happily under his breath when he feels the drilling pecking pressure of their face limbering his foot muscles, followed by enthralled slurps up and down the slope of his instep. The more Eyep rummages around underfoot the faster their face fur is matted and plastered down by the copious jackal sweat still occasionally trickling and falling off the sides of his pads, down to the ground. With his leg raised like this the ankle chain-leash has been raised just high enough off the floor for Anubis to scoop it up in one hand and tug on harshly, wrenching it towards himself, constricting the leash's overall length.
"Pads only, you filth! Keep off the arch! Your desperate breaths tickle against my fur," Anubis orders.

When the gold collar around Eyep's neck tightens upon the tugging he falls forward into the paw with a lurch only steadying himself by clutching its fuzzy heel in one hand and gently cradling the backs of those stacked toes in the other. He apologetically adjusts his muzzle straight into the middle of the ball pad browsing its plumpness for a long groggy sniff followed by a series of fast paced licks going upward from one side to the next. Eyep's tongue yearns to glide over the yellow flesh with glossy freedom but instead that stale honey glaze provides too much traction and every lick becomes like a grippy peel. It makes the noises that much more visceral. Undeterred, the slave probes and explores his clenching face deeper using his muzzle like a pestle grinding herbs into a mortar, only able to properly huff its glowing hot skin when he pulls back enough to allow room for airflow. The licks are as sloppy as they are busy. Between heaving breaths the tongue flaps up and down the ball pad more and more until Eyep can't discern which watery rivulets came from his mouth and which excreted through the pad's pores. Anubis barely hides his amusement at the visual of his sandals hanging off the horns before him. He can feel every blast of antelope breath. His ball pad is getting wetter by the minute but its dirty hazy stains refuse to submit so easily. Idly his toes continue to fan forward and back while they wait their turn to be attended.
"What a chore it is for we gods, pretending we are benevolent loving observers of your kind... I especially am expected to stay unbiased and stoic as per my given role, yet I look at you slaving over my bare feet with all your passions and I see only a disgusting insect to poke and crunch and wipe off underfoot. Did you know I feel it every time a mortal kisses the stony feet of my statues in your world, whilst praying to me for favours I shan’t ever grant? I felt it every time you - in your perverse youth - snuck a lick of those same statues, coddling those giant dusty toes as if it might wash away the guilt of stealing from my priests..." Anubis sneers, rolling the coil of leash between his finger and thumb before giving it a second tight yank just for fun.

Eyep is too preoccupied to listen. Closer and closer the vertical licks and strokes and nosy snuffles approach the digits until finally they graze over the rim of the ball pad and begin working up the cramped clustered necks of each extremity, momentarily licking up the shiny gold rings which occupy two of toes, (barely squeezed into view between all the abundant padding). Eyep can tell his god is in a sharing mood today. When he starts coasting that slick oral muscle of his over the stack of toe beans followed by an adoring swirling taste against their gritty dirt-freckled surfaces individually, Anubis splays them apart venting their toxic scents and exposing every row of toe crotch. Each is as festered in feta flavoured jam as the last.
Physically unable to stop himself, the antelope clenches each end of the foot in his hands and plunges his face right into the sweet spot starting with the lowest of the splayed toes. His tongue wedges between the furry walls, driving forward over damp blackness until it hits the webbing. It is a dead-end; malleable to the pressure of his tongue tip but littered with rich deposits of dark fuzzy refuse and chewy vinegary crud. It sticks to the tongue, clinging on stubbornly. Eyep groans into the faceful of paw muffling him and smothering him as he swipes his tongue across to one side desperate to clean out this flavoursome offering. The toe jam has the consistency of chutney, aided by the thin gossamer strands of sweat filling the parted toes or the sticky humidity wafting between them.
Eyep's brain is a puddle of slosh. Greedily he takes his excessive time waggling his tongue left and right inside the pit before moving upwards onto the next, and then again to the third one. His chin is rinsed wet in his own saliva. His tongue tingles and buzzes at the supply of toe jam it carries around, refusing to ingest it until he has entered every toe crotch available to him. The dazed animal is barely conscious. His glazed eyes are half closed at different uneven degrees. His nostrils are so utterly numbed from sniffing more honey-caramel musk than any mortal body should be able to handle. He gags and wretches on the salty intensity once he finally gulps down his hoard of jackal jam. Of course, this is all just another day in an eternity of events and experiences much too similar to this one.

"Are you enjoying your meal, filth?"
"Mnhhmnphhhm," Eyep grumbles incoherently.
"Someday I'm going to feed you an entire plate stacked with my toe jam, freshly scraped, and I will watch you devour every last bite," Anubis threatens, smirking with conceit.
"P-pl-please!" The antelope croaks, tightening his hand holds on the heel and the back of his god's foot.
Anubis chuckles quietly. His toes writhe together one more time, not feeling any cleaner but certainly feeling explored. "Brace yourself for the day my kin ever seek important council together, whereupon we gods meet for debates and libations. When they discover I have been keeping a mortal soul enslaved they shall be most curious to try you for themselves. You will serve their every need and impress them with your performance, lest you make a shame of me. As your owner I will flex my authority with added domination and cruelty until they leave for their own realms again, to boast my prize to them all. Take this as your warning to train and perfect your servitude."

Once again Eyep is not listening. He is back at the toes losing himself in their splendour, mouthing over their pads and sucking multiple of them at once for he cannot rightly fit the entire stack of four inside his feeble maw in one swallow. They slip in and spill out loosely like heavy buttery chunks. He then turns his head as far to one side as he can manage, using the sideways angle to course his tongue straight through the toe gaps with tactical gluttony. This hypnotic spell that controls Eyep is nothing unfamiliar to Anubis, though it has been a decent while before he has seen his slave this intoxicated. He scoffs, knowing the next few weeks will be most pleasurable for him. By then, perhaps, his radiant fragrance will have toned down enough to calm the cervine. Until that time he knows from experience it'll be hard to shake the pesky creature off his feet even as he walks about his palace with them towed behind by the ankle leash, they will constantly be upon him trying to sniff and worship between footfalls.
"Pathetic... but useful," Anubis mutters to himself, ignoring the sloshing and squirming that tours around the expanse of his pads. It takes another few hours of this repetition before the antelope tires himself out and resorts to languid kisses or modest snout-pressing sniffs instead.

Eventually Anubis seeks a more comfortable environment in which to play, likely his royal bed chambers where open crackling fires warm the already arid air and blowing white silk curtains give way to an oasis view beyond. The blur of the last 500 days spent seated here has had no ailing effect on his superior form and thus there is no need to stretch or soothe his joints. Instead the jackal sweeps that mounted leg aside knocking it against the front of his slave's face treating it merely as an obstruction. Anubis is aware of his incalculable strength compared to the fragile mortal yet he is apathetic to their grunt when the comparatively enormous force batters Eyep backwards, jerking his head back and making him grab his muzzle reflexively, (despite being unable to break his teeth or jaw as it might've done had he been kicked like that on earth). Anubis does not apologise. He does not flinch. He simply sets the foot down and rises from his cushioned seat once again sauntering to his dizzying 9ft height that veers over the slave and casts a long shadow. Never could a person feel so small and insignificant as when they perch at the feet of this standing deity. To even look upon each other in this stance Anubis's jaw has to roost against his tar black chest and Eyep has to strain his head upwards causing the sandal decorations to swivel and dance against his horns.

"Down. Out of my way, filth," Anubis bluntly barks.
The hopeful antelope happily tosses himself down and wriggles onto his back upon this spacious platform of stone surrounding the throne. Now he is as low as one can be; lying flat between the long skinny legs. His heart drums loudly. From this perspective his god is an imposing skyscraper and he is but a mat. Anubis does not disappoint. Instead of stepping right over the antelope as he so easily could the jackal unsticks one sweaty paw from the floor with a gentle peel sound, leaving behind a faint patch of paw shaped dampness. Like a moving eclipse the dark appendage looms high over Eyep and then, without any hesitation or sympathy, it crashes down into his soft shallow belly striking first with its ball pad whilst flexing its toes upwards. The impact sends vibrations rattling every bone in Eyep's body. He instinctively lurches a little, undeniably, but there is no pain or organ damage to fear despite still feeling winded. He is as a plushy soft-toy being walked on for comfort, unobjecting and unafraid.
45 centimetres, (almost 18 inches), of foot smother and squash down right on his stomach until anchored deep in the strained indent of the antelope's torso. The weight is still immense enough to make Eyep feel pinned under its pressure. The other leg now strides forward in a daunting drag; this one carrying the foot that Eyep hasn't treated like a slobbery chew-toy, yet. He has only enough spare time to flutter his eyelashes and open his mouth for a dry rasp of adrenaline before the titan steps down on his head in one astoundingly heavy, hot, asphyxiating *CRASH!*

Outside of this paradise the other impact would have not been instantly fatal but instead would have provided a slow miserable demise. This new impact however would make for one unsightly hypothetical mess. The velocity and intensity of that whole sole smashing direct into the front of Eyep's deserving face would've broken his skull into a brittle mosaic, dislodging and crumbling every tooth and structure in his muzzle like scattered puzzle pieces before inward pressure became outward viscera. Here though, the antelope remains intact though still his sets of teeth vibrate like a gong being struck. His head wobbles and pushes forcefully into the stone flooring, nearly cracking the masonry instead. Breath is instantly stolen from him, from each and every source. Jet black envelops his vision yet he still sees the exploding sparkles of silvery light in the void behind his eyelids imitating the effect of a concussion.

Eyep is so deeply buried under this faceful of meaty dog foot which oppressively curls its overt, overwhelming length entirely dwarfing his head with plenty of room to spare, (as per the heel sagging over his chin and burdening his throat while grabby toes clench the crown of his skull). Every portion and feature of the antelope's stowed face is becoming numb and pulsing with unique responses to the weight that by all means should be collapsing him into a puddle of sticky red. Anubis stands much like he would in any basic hieroglyph with austere pose and one leg behind the other, riding his writhing squirming muffled slave like a surfboard. Face and torso both submit to the broad soles, accepting the blaze of their toasty and still aromatic pads. Eyep's bony legs might kick and his fingers might curl and claw the ground but it is not from erratic panic, it is from erotic pleasure. Somewhere under all the foot heat he is forced to nuzzle and open his fur-corked, sweat-exposed, covered mouth into the jackal's arch. Greasy rubbery pads squelch into his nose and eyes and forehead branding him in char-grilled crud and perspiration outlines.
"Gff-uffhp, gfff!"
The sounds of his struggling breathless gulps and groans underfoot are so insulated one would only hear it if they knelt and listened right beside the antelope's stomped head. Anubis in this moment has no other ambitions other than to bully his slave for cocky juvenile amusement, like a fraternity athlete picking on a submissive peer only a portion of their size. Were it not for the sandal wearing horns the jackal would have room to spread his toes far apart and suffuse them around the dome, plucking at the antelope's scruffy head hair with playful toe pinches.

Five minutes of standing vainly atop this doormat provides little other benefit than the stroking of Anubis's ego... so he waits another ten minutes instead. Eyep's legs retired from sliding about the floor a while ago. His inability to breathe yet inability to actually suffocate still cause him to pant rapidly and with great fluster; his chest heaving up and down with trapped oxygen that cannot go anywhere but hit the black sole blanketing his airways. Occasionally a scarce wisp of musky steam will seep out from under the squishing sole and face contours. Mostly streams of fresh new paw sweat squeeze out and drizzle in frequent droves down the sides of Eyep's head, soaking into his fur with their tangy caramel smell. Try as he might to lick the sole for his god's affection Eyep's only access is the small patch of matted messy arch covering his lips.
After thirty minutes even the panting and heaving has stopped. Eyep's body is sedated and calm, lying as it would in deep slumber despite his fully conscious state. His false pretence of 'breathing' is now just a dwelling meditation. The paw on his belly has sunken deep enough into him to fully flatten his organs to a coin's width. The other still suppresses his face and skull just as it had earlier, sighting no room for adjustment. This antelope is by now immune to the ticklish trickles of sweat flowing down his facial contours or dribbling into little pools around the back of his head, against the floor. The longer he's down here in the pure pitch darkness smelling the sole directly at the source the more his pitiable mortal mind tries to cope with the strength of its ripened B.O, gradually tricking his senses into believing the odour changes overtime from that familiar sweet honey-caramel to that of a more sour honey-soy, eventually becoming stale and cheddary like a typical canine corn chip foot smell. He wishes he could bottle this kind of smell and keep it forever.

Anubis's jaws stretch open into a long yawn, more performative than necessary, and he speaks to his living doormat at last. "In our eons together you've deluded yourself into thinking you understand my power, filth. Trust in me when I warn you, you could not fathom the likes of true power. I can wave my hand and activate your earthly sense of pain or fatality, instantly crushing you under these feet where I stand. Be dearly grateful that I permit you a sliver of my immortality... it is only so that I can trample you freely without any need for washing away the splattered aftermath. But know this, in the endless spiralling eons we still have together I WILL assert my powers and examine how you best serve me. One day I will shrink you to a cosy fraction of my paw, stow you inside my ever humid sandals and make an insole of you. One day after that I will transform your very being and essence into that of a living toe ring, or perhaps transform you into my own new pair of sandals to wear throughout time. It will look like footwear but it will bear your soul. Your bodily senses will mash together. You will still feel, smell, taste, hear and think with knowing sentience. Eventually I will return you to this grovelling form you currently possess, provided I do not forget your existence down there. Until then, you will serve me dutifully as you have done. You will drink from my sweat and eat from my grime for a myriad of lifetimes yet. Scribes may one day write of your servitude, making public your disgraceful existence. This is your only fate... less so because your blasphemy earned it, more so because I simply enjoy mistreating you, my doting foot slave."

*Schhlrk! Thomp!*
A flash of light disorientates the drowsy antelope. That stalwart weight peels right off his face without warning, pushing off its plump padding and lifting off at the heel first. Eyep expected to feel unimaginable relief but truly he'd felt more at home awash under tidal waves of bliss there beneath the faceful of sole. As the paw rises away that same stringy mozzarella encore of sweat strands and raining droplets bridges the muggy airspace between paw and face. Left stunned and groggy in the wake is the antelope's trodden head bearing the distinctly light black mark of a watery jackal footprint, surrounded by the tousled un-flattened edges of fur that survived the stomping impact. Tiny flakes of black lint roll down the antelope's features, escaping to freedom. Eyep's vision is still too blurry to fully revitalise but his god does not wait on him, as he swiftly proves.
Anubis continues walking away down toward the pillar-lined corridor nonchalant in his stride even as his anklet wrenches on the chain leash tethering the gasping slave behind him. Eyep is briefly dragged on his back after the jackal. He recovers, rolling aside onto his clumsy half-asleep hands and knees. Promptly he crawls after his barefoot god working hard to match their pace, carrying the two reeking hot sandals on his horns, following the shiny leash along the floor. While Eyep wishes he had time to suck the trail of paw prints off the ground he takes comfort knowing that mere moments from now after Anubis climbs into bed, he will once more be given unrestrained access to those divine paws with limitless options for worship... not just for the evening, but forever after, for all time, with no end in sight.

THE END!