New Story: "Landlady Takes Control" by Mana Ray (F+/f, humiliation, demotion fetish, slavery)

Joined: September 13th, 2017, 6:59 am

September 13th, 2017, 7:32 am #1

I forgot the login to my old account 'yuutube' so I have to post here.

Synopsis: Natalie makes an enemy of wealthy, sadistic Charlotte Lamberton one night when she trolls the woman online. Charlotte waits for her chance to get revenge, eventually buying the left-leaning bitch's house and turning the girl into her live-in maid and foot slave. This is only the beginning of Natalie's torments at the hands (and feet) of the wealthy crowd she despises.


Natalie opened the door for her new landlady. This wouldn't have been so bad, except for the fact that Natalie used to own this house. Now, she had lost all the equity she had built, and the place was sold from beneath her feet. And who was the buyer? Someone Natalie loathed: Charlotte Lamberton.

"Good morning, Nat!"

Charlotte was dressed in her usual sundress and strappy sandals, practically smirking at Natalie as she strolled into the house that now belonged to her. She had on a pearl necklace, and carried a large Starbucks frappucino. She kicked off her sandals and waltzed into Natalie's living room, placing her bare feet on the coffee table atop one of Natalie's literary zines.

"I brought over the new lease for you to sign. Oh, and I need the deposit – does three thousand work for you?"

Natalie seethed inwardly as the bitch smiled at her. It took all the restraint in her body to nod in agreement. Charlotte wasn't satisfied.

"What sort of hostess are you?" the blonde woman joked, "aren't you going to offer me something? Food, a drink, a foot massage?"

She wiggled her toes a little, and Natalie watched as some of the dirt fell from the woman's soles onto one of her favorite publications.

"Would you like anything, Charlotte?" Natalie asked through gritted teeth.

"I prefer Miss Lamberton. But no, thank you, I don't want to put you out. I know you need to save money. Come on, let's get this over with!"

Natalie balled her fists and approached the plutocrat that had bought up her home. The bitch could carry a grudge, that was for sure.

A few years back, Natalie had been drinking wine and saw a post on Charlotte's Instagram. Basically, the woman was showing off all her designer clothes while insulting people who couldn't afford such luxuries. Charlotte posted a rather cutting remark that made local news, and the woman was spiteful enough to keep tabs on her for years waiting for her chance to get revenge.

Eventually, Charlotte learned that Natalie was struggling to pay her mortgage. When Natalie's house went up for auction, Charlotte bought it with cash on the very same day. Now she was Natalie's landlord, but it was worse than that of course.

Natalie blanched as she read the rental agreement.

"The rent is eighteen hundred a month??" Natalie asked. It was practically the same as the mortgage she was paying beforehand!

"Yes, Natalie," Charlotte answered, savoring the girl's outrage, "That's the fair market price for the area; take a look around if you don't believe me."

"But that was a mortgage for an entire house! This is just to rent single room!"

"Well yeah, that's how it is structured," Charlotte said, "I mean, I like this place! It's cozy. I want to stay here too sometimes, to watch over my investment."

Natalie blinked, and felt her cheeks going red. Charlotte watched with glee; she had been waiting until the last moment to spring this little surprise on the brat. What better revenge than to make Natalie live under her thumb? To have the girl rent a place she used to own, and admire all of Charlotte's nice things up close and personal while obeying her stupid rules?

"But what about these rules?" Natalie asked, glancing at the ridiculous number of different lines she had to sign her initials.

"I can't have guests over after 6PM or before 10AM? Quiet hours? I have to maintain ALL common areas?"

Charlotte felt a thrill as Natalie rattled off all the humiliating points of the contract. That would show the little leftist bitch to question power. She pictured the brunette girl sitting quietly in her tiny little room, cursing her own stupidity for crossing a superior woman. No time for yoga classes or organic food now!

"Listen Natalie," Charlotte began, "those are the rules. You can take it or leave it, but if you leave it you have to be out of here by next week. There are several people interested in renting your room."

Natalie grimaced as she read the other points: this 'rental agreement' was downright exploitative. If she signed the lease, she knew that Charlotte would have countless ways to boss her around. But what was her alternative? She didn't have any family nearby, and she didn't have enough money to find another place.

With her recent foreclosure, no landlords would rent to her. It was this or living in her car, and there were laws against that now.

"Char-- I mean, Miss Lamberton," Natalie started, annoyed at having to address the woman so formally.

"Can we at least take out the part that says I have to maintain the garden?"

"No, sorry," Charlotte said with mock sympathy, "I have a very specific way I like things, and if you are my tenant I expect you to maintain things to my liking."

Natalie didn't have a lot of options. She initialed the document countless times – certainly more times than was necessary. She knew that Charlotte had designed it in such a way to humiliate Natalie by making her sign away so many of her rights. All the while, Charlotte sipped her cold drink and admired her pedicure.

"Do you have the deposit and first month's rent?"

"Yes, Miss Lamberton," Natalie murmured.

Defeated, she walked into her room and pulled out the $4800 that represented the last of her life's savings. She went back to her hated rival and handed her the cash, watching her dazzling smile as she counted all the bills. A single piece of Charlotte's jewelry cost more than all that cash, and she was wearing quite a collection.

"Awesome! Listen Natalie, I know this is hard for you," Charlotte said, "but I think this can really work out for both of us. Maybe by being around me, you can learn how rich people think. And I can have you around in case I need help. Oh, speaking of, could you fetch my sandals please?"

Charlotte was grinning sweetly, but Natalie knew the underlying threat. If she misbehaved, the woman could quite easily have her out onto the street by upping her rent due to the month-to-month nature of the agreement. Natalie nodded, and went to fetch the woman's well-worn leather sandals. Seeing them up close, she noticed that there were deep indentations where Natalie's toes rested along with other signs of wear.

"My back kind of hurts today. Could you please help me with my shoes?"

Natalie glared at Charlotte, but the woman knew she had her beat. Without a word, Natalie knelt before her new landlady and helped guide her feet into her sandals. Charlotte said, 'thank you,' but that didn't lighten the mood. Natalie wanted to wash her hands after touching that woman's feet. She hated feet.

"Okay, so just get all your stuff out of the master bedroom, and I'll be back tomorrow to move my stuff in! See you then."

Charlotte left the house, and Natalie went to the sofa and sat with her head in her hands. There was a copy of the rental agreement on the coffee table for Natalie's records. She couldn't bring herself to read it again, so she just went into her old bedroom and began the long process of moving out.


Things got worse for poor Natalie, and they got worse rather quickly.

Charlotte moved all her stuff into the new home, with Natalie's help of course, and immediately started bossing the girl around.

"Oh, Natalie. I kind of have this thing about feet," Charlotte said when she noticed that Natalie was barefoot as she usually was.

For a moment, Natalie got her hopes up: maybe Charlotte wouldn't want her to touch her feet after all!

"Like, I don't like seeing anyone else's bare feet. It sets me off," Charlotte said, "so whenever you're at home, you need to wear socks or something. Here, I got you these."

Charlotte reached into glossy paper bag and pulled out an offensively pink pair of ballet slippers. Natalie just looked at her.

"Well, come on!" Charlotte said, handing the shoes over to Natalie.

With a sigh, Natalie slipped them on her bare feet, noticing that they fit quite well. But as soon as one touched the floor, there was an audible tapping noise that rang out. Were there taps on these shoes?

"Yeah, I hate it when people sneak up on me. Like, if I'm going to share this house with you, I need to know where you are. So just keep those on whenever you're at home," Charlotte demanded, not bothering to hear Natalie's answer.

The brunette girl frowned as she looked down at her feet, now encased in the soft pink canvas of her ballet slippers. She loved going barefoot – it gave her a sense of freedom and power. Now she had on girlish little slippers that clicked with each step. And after a few moments, they felt a little tight towards the front – maybe it had something to do with the pointed toe?

The wealthy woman had hired movers to transport all her stuff, and she did nothing to help them except order them where to place each item. It pained Natalie to see her former room full of another person's stuff – even worse that it was that bitch Charlotte Lamberton's things. She had entire boxes of designer shoes and handbags, the exact sort of luxuries that Natalie found pointless and wasteful.

"Natalie would you help unload my boxes please?" Charlotte asked, sipping sweet tea while watching some right-wing news program Natalie despised.

"Um, I can't," Natalie said, already afraid of offending this woman. "I have work in half an hour."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes for a moment, but quickly regained her composure.

"Where do you work?" she asked as though she didn't already know the answer.

"Uh, at Gelman's, it's a law firm downtown."

"I know Gelman's," Charlotte spat out, "that left-wing nut who keeps getting in the way of business. How much does he even pay you? Not much if you can't even keep your house, must be."

Natalie winced.

"It's about $20/hour," she answered.

"That's it??" Charlotte asked. Natalie nodded, wanting to punch the woman for her arrogance.

"You could make way better money as a personal stretcher. I'll see what I can do, my friend's business is hiring."

Natalie politely demurred.

She had seen ads online looking for 'personal stretchers,' usually with subtle implications that they wanted young, pretty girls to apply. It seemed to be a new fad among the rich: they would go into a comfy yoga studio looking space then lie down on cushioned beds as physical therapists helped them through a program of assisted stretching. It was a good idea, in theory: Natalie could definitely see the therapeutic benefit. But the price tag ensured that only the wealthiest people could afford it, and generally they wanted more novelty and relaxation than physical therapy.

Natalie supposed there was nothing wrong with it, she just didn't like the idea of touching rich women all over as they lied back and relaxed. There was something so servile about it – it flew in the face of all her political beliefs. Natalie was a staunch critic of income inequality. She found it abhorrent that women like Charlotte and her clique had more money than they could ever spend, while Natalie and others went without. For Natalie it was offensive to work at Stretch Lab, using her body and mind to make rich women a little more comfortable. It was unthinkable.

"Well, something to think about," Charlotte said.

"Oh, and tell Mr. Gelman I said hello!" she added in a cryptic tone. Natalie felt very uneasy as she walked out the door, but on her drive to work all she could think about was how much of her income would go to Charlotte now. As much as it upset her, she couldn't help but think about how unfair and stupid it all was.
According to her calculations, she made about $2400 a month after taxes. Her rent was $1800. This meant that like three fourths of her income went directly into Charlotte's purse, and the only thing Natalie had to show for it was a tiny room to sleep in within a house that once belonged to her.

The slender brunette gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles went white as her mind offered up even more annoying figures. She would have to work 110 hours every month to pay her rent – money that Charlotte didn't even do anything to earn! Nearly 80% of her time spent at work would be to benefit the wealthy blonde bitch who had taken her house, and now lorded it over her with all kinds of strings attached. She couldn't believe Charlotte could be so mean, and she vowed to find some way out of this situation.


As soon as Mr. Gelman found out about Natalie's situation, he calmly explained that he could no longer employ her. Natalie sat there quietly as the middle-aged man summarized the vague threats Charlotte's lawyers had sent his way. They even found a way of implying that if Gelman got rid of some staff (by this they meant Natalie), it would set everyone else up for a better career trajectory.

"I'm sorry, Natalie," Mr. Gelman said, in the tone of someone who has gotten very used to losing in his lifetime.

"She is too powerful. She could crush us with frivolous legal fees, and drive us out of business. Then we wouldn't be able to help anyone. I know this is unfair, and bullshit. I wish there was more I could do."

Natalie stared at the man. He still had a full head of hair, but some of it was greying. His suit was tailored and fit well. She used to hold him in such high esteem – thinking that he was a crusader for the downtrodden and an advocate for the working class. Some crusader! As soon as Charlotte Lamberton threatened him, he offered Natalie up like sacrifice.

Despite her anger, though, Natalie knew Mr. Gelman didn't really have a choice here. That's what made it so frustrating. Natalie was scowling as she packed up her desk and left Gelman's law firm, drawing sympathetic glances from her former co-workers. She dreaded going home and announcing that she had lost her job – she kept envisioning the smirk on Charlotte's face as she relished her new power over her.

Her rent was due in three weeks, and she barely had a dollar to her name.


She did everything she could to avoid working at 'Stretch Lab' but nothing worked. All of Natalie's friends were too concerned about their own jobs: employers were laying people off, not hiring. After a week of hitting the pavement and sending out her resume, Natalie finally approached Charlotte about the job.

This was especially annoying because Charlotte had been ordering Natalie around all week whenever she was home. It felt like every day, Natalie was on her knees scrubbing the woman's toilet because of Charlotte's 'OCD.' The woman would regularly leave food out, with the clear expectation that it was Natalie's job to clean up after her. The girl felt like a servant in her own home, and Charlotte rarely offered a kind word.

Charlotte was watching some news/entertainment program when Natalie asked if she could talk.

"Um, Miss Lamberton, is your friend's job still hiring?"

Charlotte's smile widened. She felt the usual thrill she got whenever the brunette girl submitted to one of her ploys. She was going to love seeing Natalie in the stretcher's outfit – maybe she would give her some practice at home!

"Yeah, of course!" Charlotte answered, "but the only problem is, you're unemployed right now. So, he's going to want to lowball your pay. I know it sucks – you really should have taken the offer last week."

Natalie balked.

"Couldn't you just tell him I'm working?" she pleaded.

Charlotte loved how immature and helpless the girl looked, her bushy eyebrows contorted into the portrait of pathetic supplication.

"Sorry," Charlotte said, "I don't want to lie to my friend like that. I'll call him though, and see what I can do. In the mean time, I have a load of laundry that needs to be done. Could you help me out too?"

Natalie sighed, and agreed. Now she was doing Charlotte's laundry too? Where would all this end?

The laundry took quite some time. All of Charlotte's clothes were designer brands, and had to be handled in a very labor-intensive way. Natalie was tired at the end of it, lying on her bed trying to relax. Charlotte popped her door open without knocking, and came into her room.

"Good news! I got you a working interview tomorrow. The pay isn't the best – only $11.15 starting, but if you get enough five-star reviews they will bump you up to $13. And the clients tip, too."

Natalie set down her book and tried to think of a polite way of expressing how angry she was. $11.15 was about $9 after taxes. And didn't Charlotte say that she would make more than $20 an hour working as a stretcher?!

"Charlott – I mean, Miss Lamberton. My rent is like $1800! How will I earn that much? I would need to work like 50 hours a week."
"Yeah, I thought of that," Charlotte answered, and Natalie got a sinking feeling.

"I'm willing to let you pay some of your rent in sweat equity. So instead of giving me cash, you would spend a few hours a week working around the apartment, and I would deduct it from your total balance. Does that sound fair?"

Natalie went pale. She was horrified at the prospect of being made to work in her own (rented, she reminded herself) house. And worse, for Charlotte Lamberton! But considering the alternative, she had no choice to accept.

"I guess," she murmured

"Great! You can start right now. Give me a foot massage for an hour and I will knock $15 off your rent," Charlotte chirped.

To Natalie's amazement, the woman actually came into Natalie's bedroom and lied on her bed, stretching out her long legs and making herself comfortable. Was she seriously going to have Natalie massage her feet on her own bed?

Natalie felt a pit in her stomach as she looked at the woman's bare feet. They were meaty, with defined arches and shapely nail beds – not bad visually but Natalie was revolted at the thought of touching feet. It made her skin crawl.

"Miss Lamberton, is there any way I could do something else?"

"Nat, come on. I'm trying to help you here. It's just feet, and they're clean! Look," Charlotte said, lifting her sole up in the air for Natalie to inspect.

With a long sigh, Natalie moved down to the bottom edge of her own bed and took Charlotte's feet into her lap. She cringed once as the woman rested her heels against her thighs, and again as she put her hands against the soft flesh of Charlotte's soles. She had never given a foot massage before, and just started applying firm pressure with her thumbs. Charlotte beamed a lovely smile, and played on her smartphone.

"This is perfect – I love having a foot massage while I text people. It makes me feel like a princess."

Although Charlotte's feet looked clean, Natalie noticed a faint aroma coming from them – sour and acrid. They were cold to the touch, but quickly started warming up as Natalie ran her hands all across them. She felt disgusted with herself. Here she was, giving a foot massage to the woman who she had considered her enemy. Sitting on a twin size bed in a rented room, in a house that belonged to Charlotte Lamberton.

"A little more pressure, Nat," Charlotte said. "And actually look at my feet! It helps to create a mind-body connection."

Natalie lowered her vision, staring at Charlotte's pale feet. She had a fresh red pedicure, and the subtlest of tan lines. This continued for about an hour, and Natalie never quite got used to the sensation of touching another woman's feet. Each stroke was a fresh violation – a new low at the feet of her former rival. She desperately wanted to go wash her hands, and it like they were contaminated with Charlotte's mank feet grime. Couldn't the woman at least have the consideration to wash her feet before making Natalie rub them?

"Thank you for that, Natalie," Charlotte crooned, stretching her toes lazily as she rested them in the girl's lap. Thankfully, she withdrew them got up to go relax in the living room.

Natalie hurried away to the bathroom and scoured her hands with soap and hot water, but couldn't get the thought of Charlotte's feet out of her mind. Was this seriously what Charlotte expected her to do to earn her keep?? Even this one foot rub was disturbing in the extreme to Natalie – she couldn't stomach the thought of rubbing Charlotte Lamberton's feet as a normal part of her schedule.

And yet, that seemed to be exactly what the woman desired.


Natalie's new boss already seemed like he had it out for her. It probably had something to do with her reaction when she saw her work uniform.

Natalie's 'strecher' uniform consisted of a vanishingly small pair of short shorts – they barely covered her toned butt. Her top was a tight neon yellow tank top that ended well above her midriff, and a black athletic bra beneath it. The outfit really seemed to call attention to her body, and gave her the appearance of a bubbly sporty girl. Her hair was in a sensible ponytail, with a neon yellow scrunchie holding it up.

She followed her new boss, a young man with swelling muscles and an obnoxious attitude.

"So we do specialties here: some stretchers focus on the upper body, some on the lower body, some on the back."

Natalie nodded, looking around to see pretty young women helping clients perform lovely stretches all across the gym's floor. Its decor was somewhere between an athletic studio and a massage parlor. The floor consisted of soft rubber, and there was soothing music coming over the loudspeakers.

"Your specialty is..." the guy began, looking down at his phone, "legs and feet."

Natalie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. This was Charlotte's doing, she was sure of it.

"The feet are an interesting specialty," the guy added, oblivious to Natalie's discontent.

"I think you are our first person to focus on them. But it makes sense: there are a lot of bones and connective tissue there. We've actually had many of women coming in here asking for foot reflexology sessions after wearing high heels. Do you think you could learn to do that?"

Natalie couldn't muster a response, but the guy obviously wanted to hear a, 'yes, sir.'

"Yeah," she said, weakly.

He seemed unimpressed.

"Well, please try to show some more enthusiasm when you're dealing with the customers. A big part of what we do is creating a positive experience – that's why people come here instead of somewhere else."

The guy pointed to a smiling girl in her early 20s, gently rotating an older man's right arm in small circles. She had a polite grin on her face, as though she was happy to be serving a guy old enough to be her father. Or maybe she was?

"Okay, I will!" Natalie answered, smiling as best she could. The guy seemed satisfied, and they continued their tour of the studio.

"Great! Your first client is here, she's waiting up front."

Natalie followed the guy's gesture to see a young woman in the reception area – Natalie's first thought was that she was a trophy wife. She had luscious blonde hair, but dark eyebrows and she barely looked old enough to be done with college. Something about her high cheekbones and her fierce eyebrows made her look mean, but she smiled at Natalie.

"Hey! Are you my stretcher? I really need it," the woman said, shaking Natalie's hand with a surprisingly strong grip.

"I'm going to this new moms class and they told me this helps with the stress."

She introduced herself as Gabrielle, and the three of them went to one of the padded tables. Gabrielle had on yoga pants and a pink vest, and Natalie was impressed that she retained such a tight figure, for being a new mom.

Most of the goodwill Natalie had for Gabrielle evaporated over the stretching session, but that wasn't the blonde woman's fault.

It was the stretching routine! Natalie couldn't believe she was so unlucky to have pulled this specific job. For at least 15 minutes, Natalie had to kneel on the bed and help Gabrielle extend her upturned leg down towards her torso. Except, Natalie's own position made it so that her face was just an inch away from the woman's bare feet. Gabrielle giggled, and Natalie's boss told her that she wasn't supposed to breathe through her mouth during this stretch, to avoid tickling the client's feet.

Beside herself with indignation, Natalie had no choice but to breathe through her nose for the entire time she held this stretch, inhaling the aroma of Gabrielle's feet. The woman had clearly skipped her shower, and Natalie noticed an earthy aroma she couldn't seem to ignore. The blonde woman was smiling wide, oblivious to Natalie's discomfort.

This pattern continued: apparently Natalie's boss expected her face to remain within a few inches of Gabrielle's feet for many of the stretches. She assumed this position as she rotated the woman's ankles, pulled on her slender toes, and used targeted reflexology against her high arches. By the end of the session, Natalie felt shaken from smelling this woman's feet for so long. Sure, she was gorgeous, and hygienic, but Natalie abhorred anything to do with feet.

Now this was her job, and she was paid a pittance for it.

Gabrielle looked radiant as she thanked them at the end of the session – it looked like she had re-captured that motherly glow that women adore so much. She tipped Natalie $20, which was a pleasant surprise. The fact that a rich woman could be so polite kind of confused Natalie's resentment, but she figured that Natalie was probably an everyday person who came into wealth by marrying some rich asshole.

Their next client was a raven-haired woman somewhere in her 40s, dressed as though she were a business executive. She had on a black jacket, black skirt, a pink blouse and black nylons. Her stilettos were obviously a designer brand, and she had no wedding ring on. Although she had pretty facial features, she seemed to be frowning all the time and it added an intimidating gravity to her person.

"Hello Ivan," the woman said to Natalie's boss. She had a no-nonsense tone of voice; like she could order a thousand people to lose their jobs and think nothing of it.

"I know Alondra quit, but I really need a Cleopatra massage. I have closing arguments today and it always helps me think. Do you have someone who could help?"
Ivan nodded. By how polite he was being to the woman, Natalie sensed that she was an important client. He told the woman to take her usual private room, and pulled Natalie aside to give her a quick lecture in whispered tones.

"Miss Medic is one of our most regular clients. She spends a lot of money here and we really want to keep her business. Please, please just keep a good attitude during this session. She's really demanding, but just do what she says. And don't mind the way her feet smell – she HATES it when anyone calls her out on it."
Natalie wanted to quit right there, but she felt Ivan's strong arm guiding her to the private room. It felt like she was walking to the gallows as they went into the hallway that contained all the private rooms. Ivan knocked gently on the door, and Miss Medic invited them in.

Natalie was shocked to see that the woman had stripped down to her bra and panties, but had left her thigh-high stayup stockings on. Her body was pale and soft, like she didn't place any importance on exercise. She was lying on her back expectantly.

The room itself was cozy, maybe eighty square feet and dimly lit. It had a sink and a place where Miss Medic had folded all her clothes. Even upon entering, Natalie noticed the telltale aroma of feet – it made her blood curdle.

It got worse as she approached the woman's stockinged feet. There was a sharp aroma, mixed with leather that was impossible to ignore. Even if Natalie didn't loathe feet this would have been objectionable. Given her aversion, though, it was a horrific ordeal. Ivan was there too, giving her the occasional look to make sure she wasn't breathing through her mouth. She winced as she touched the woman's nyloned feet, as a tidal wave of embarrassment and distaste washed over her entire body. It felt like she was putting her hands in some noxious poison that seeped all the way down to her bones.

"Just do my feet," Miss Medic ordered when Natalie tried to move up towards the woman's ankles and calves.

From Miss Medic's perspective, this was heaven. She had a handsome, buff guy massaging her shoulders and her arms while a pretty brunette girl massaged her feet. Soft music played, and she had nothing to do but focus on receiving pleasure.

Natalie, on the other hand, was in hell. The more she massaged Miss Medic's feet, the more their offensive aroma seemed to permeate the room and seep into her hands. Natalie knew she was probably just imagining this, but the thought wouldn't leave her mind. And even worse, Natalie wasn't trained in how to give foot massages! Wasn't there some kind of law that you needed a license to do this?

She felt like she was just groping the woman's soles with her thumbs, arbitrarily deciding where to stroke. It was an hour long appointment too, and it really strained Natalie's imagination to think of so many different ways to rub a woman's foot. The constant hunched position she had to take caused her lower back and shoulder to ache, and even her wrists were hurting.

"My feet are not too offensive are they?" Miss Medic asked at one point. Ivan gave Natalie a pointed look.

"Not at all! They're fine by me," Natalie lied.

"Wow, you're a brave girl! I can smell them from here, and I don't envy you. But if you don't mind them, great! You can be my new regular foot girl – I'm in here all the time."

Natalie forced a smile through all her despair. She didn't want to touch this woman's feet for another minute, let alone for several more hours!

"Sometimes I think Alondra quit because she had an issue with me. Do you think that's why, Ivan?" Miss Medic asked.

"No, definitely not," Ivan said, "I think she had to move. She enjoyed seeing you."

Natalie saw the harsh woman smile a little – she clearly liked it when people flattered her ego. Being this close to Miss Medic's feet, Natalie could definitely understand why a girl would quit instead of being subjected to them on a regular basis. But for her, quitting wasn't an option.

About halfway through the massage, Miss Medic's happy sighs became a little disconcerting. At first, it seemed like the woman was just relaxed, but soon her moans became more suggestive. Ivan looked like he was totally comfortable with this... foreplay, and spent a little too long massaging her boobs. Natalie saw the lust in his eyes, and wondered what he would do if she weren't here.

Or was she part of this little scene? Miss Medic and Ivan seemed careful to maintain deniability – this all could still be a misunderstanding on Natalie's part so she just kept quiet.

"Ah! That was sooo good," Miss Medic said at the end of the session.

Ivan had helped her sit up, and she was lazily flexing her feet and admiring her red pedicure through her stockings. Natalie kept a polite smile on her face, which seemed to please the older woman even more. Miss Medic gave Natalie a long look, which made herblush and head for the door. Ivan followed suit, and they walked towards the break room together.

"That was awesome!" Ivan said, clapping her on the shoulder.

"She's really hard to please, but she seemed happy with your service."

Natalie nodded, wishing for any opportunity to wash her hands. She could feel bits of foot grime on them, and the smell of Miss Medic's feet was still sharp in her mind. Just as she was about to use the sink, there was a knock on the door.

It was Miss Medic.

"Ivan, that was the best. I will be back here tomorrow for more of the same. And I want this girl to do my feet again," she said, pointing at Natalie.

"OH! Before I forget, here, come sample this essential oil I picked up."

Miss Medic beckoned Natalie over, and ordered the girl to hold out her hands with her palms upturned. Then the older woman droppd a few droplets of pungeant rose oil onto her hands, which a strong earthy aroma. She ordered Natalie to rub her hands together vigorously, coating their entirety with the colorless oil.
"Now lift your hands to your face and inhale deeply five times through your noise," Miss Medic told Natalie.

The brunette girl tried not to groan as she lifted her hands to her pretty face to inhale the aroma. The oil didn't cover the smell of Miss Medic's feet: far from it! In fact, it seemed to compliment their sharp odor with more dull scent, but she could still discern that odor. With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply five times. It felt like she could taste the woman's feet on her tongue, which made her queasy.

"I know this job is hard on your hands," the mature woman explained, "so I'll bring this oil for you tomorrow too. Ciao!"

With that, Miss Medic was gone, and Ivan brought Natalie to their next client before she could clean her hands. Natalie's job continued this way, touching womens' legs and feet in highly intimate ways, helping them stretch and ease the stress of life. It was a demanding job, requiring Natalie to take all sorts of awkward positions and hold them for uncomfortable amounts of time.

At the end of the day, Ivan had some feedback for her.

"You did alright,' he said, counting out her tip money. "The only thing you need to work on is smiling more. Our clients want to see happy employees."
Natalie just nodded politely. She had been smiling all day and that wasn't enough? Was she supposed to be ludicrously happy to have her feet inches away from womens' feet all day??

"Oh, and please put more care into your appearance," Ivan added.

"In fact, go next door before your shift tomorrow and have them do your hair and makeup. We have an agreement with the girls there – they'll give you a discount."
A while back, it would have been totally illegal for an employer to dictate how his employees looked. But, as Natalie looked around at the other girl 'stretchers' she noticed that each one of them had full makeup on, and elaborate hairstyles. Employment laws had been so weakened that these girls had to jump through whatever hoops their bosses wanted to keep their jobs.

It was one of the things Natalie had protested and lobbied against.

"Yes, sir," Natalie said, feeling fatigued and defeated.

She rode the bus home, in an effort to save gas. When she arrived, Charlotte's Mercedes was parked in the driveway, and she slipped in hoping the woman wouldn't notice. But as soon as she put on those ridiculous pink slippers, her footsteps announced her arrival.

"Nat! Come to the living room," Charlotte called out.

Natalie shrugged her shoulders and marched to the living room, where Charlotte was sitting with a young brunette. She was a slender woman, with long arms and legs. Natalie winced as she saw that the brunette woman was barefoot – didn't Charlotte have some kind of foot phobia?

"Nat, this is Karolina," Charlotte said, motioning to the coltish woman. She was wearing yoga pants and a black athletic sweater.

"Namaste!" the woman said, offering a little bow.

"Karolina, this is Natalie. She used to troll people online, now she's my live-in foot rubber and maid."

Natalie flashed Charlotte a glare.

"Just kidding!" Charlotte said, "but seriously, do you think you could give me a foot massage right now? My feet feel lonely,"

Natalie despised Charlottes cutesy way of asking for things. Also, having to massage the woman's feet in front of company was even worse! Even if Karolina seemed a little air-headed, it was still humiliating to do something so degrading in front of a stranger.

"Yes, Miss Lamberton," Natalie answered, approaching to rub the woman's feet yet again.

Natalie had to sit on the hard coffee table facing Charlotte, so she could massage the woman's feet without her turning away from her friend. She frowned as she started little effleurage motions on the woman's soles, which had flecks of dirt on them as usual. It felt like Karolina was watching her, although the women neglected to include her in their conversation. They were talking about metaphysical stuff that didn't really interest her anyway: horoscopes and things like that.
As she had been trained, Natalie didn't look up from her task. Here she was acting like a stupid servant, bowing her head, with Charlotte's feet taking up the entirety of her attention. It irked her that Karolina was obviously new-agey but she didn't find it strange that Charlotte had another woman doing something so demeaning.

After a while, the conversation turned to Natalie.

"I notice that Natalie doesn't have a very good attitude towards her work," Charlotte said, pointing to the girl using her foot.

"Is there anything you can recommend to give her a better spirit about stuff?"

"Oh, of course!" Karolina answered, her eyes lighting up. "I went to see Doctor Sahi for when I was feeling low-libido, and she's a miracle worker. I can get her a session if you'd like – although she is pretty expensive."


Charlotte gave Natalie a critical look, and Natalie was just angry that the women were talking about her as though she weren't there. But what could she say? Meanwhile, Charlotte was thrilled to see this level of compliance from the once-proud girl – like she had already accepted that she was some kind of foot masseur!

"I suppose it would be good. Maybe it's like an investment – I can use it as a tax writeoff!"

At this, both women laughed and Natalie slumped her shoulders.

"Oh, I don't mean to be a bad hostess. Would you like a foot rub, Karolina? Natalie would be happy to help."

"Oh, I don't know – I didn't clean my feet after hot yoga," Karolina demurred.

"Nonsense! Natalie is happy to help. It helps reduce her rent, too, so it's a win-win."

Karolina didn't take much more convincing, and soon Natalie had the woman's size 11 feet in her lap. She had very high arches and long, slender toes. Her feet widened from the heel out towards the ball, and they were firm and muscular to the touch. Unfortunately, they had a faint aroma of birkenstocks and perspiration, along with some kind of witch hazel that Natalie guessed the yoga studio used as a spray.

The women continued to ignore Natalie, who rubbed Karolina's athletic feet for another half hour. By the end of the day, Charlotte made Natalie an appointment to meet with the doctor sometime the following week. As Natalie was preparing a fruit smoothie for Charlotte later, the woman let slip that the introductory session alone cost $1500! It didn't surprise Natalie, but she had an ominous feeling about what kind of results would come for that price...


Natalie sat on a tiny chair in front of the doctor's desk, feeling quite intimidated in spite of herself.

Dr. Prisha Sahi was a middle-aged Pakistani woman with a large body and pendulous breasts. She dressed in such a way to emphasize her curves, unashamed of her thick thighs and meaty arms. She was at least a head taller than Natalie, and physically imposing in spite of her round face and pleasantly full lips. Natalie had to fight the impression that she was a schoolgirl in the principal's office, and the doctor's tone only made the situation worse.

"So, it seems to me that you have a... neurosis when it comes to feet," the doctor said in thickly accented english.

"I suppose so, but isn't that normal?" Natalie asked – but even having to talk about feet was unpleasant.

"Perhaps in some instances. But it seems that this foot phobia is wrapped up in deeper psychological issues: like your class consciousness and wounded pride. If these go untreated, I am afraid you may suffer a psychological breakdown and become homeless or institutionalized."

Natalie balked. It sounded like the doctor wanted her to slave away at womens' feet and be smiling moronically the entire time! As though her anger at being treated like a slave girl was some handicap to be overcome!

"I'm not sure I agree, doctor--" Natalie began.

The woman gave Natalie a baleful glance which startled the poor girl so much that she stopped her sentence mid-thought.

"This is exactly the problem. Your mind is attempting to protect its own neurosis by denying my professional help. You will need extensive help to overcome this illness, but with my program I think you will succeed."

Natalie asked what the doctor's program entailed.

"Well, it is a sort of prolonged exposure therapy, with a structure of rewards and disincentives. Basically, you will be exposed to womens' feet in various contexts, and if you react positively you will get something good and if you react negatively you will get a forfeit."

Natalie tried to articulate herself in a way that wouldn't anger this woman – the 'therapy' already sounded sick and she wanted no part of it.

Dr. Sahi cut her off with a wave of her hand. Her fingernails were long and perfectly manicured in a bold red color.

"This is my treatment," the woman explained in an imperious tone, "you can accept it or not. But if you say no, I will alert Miss Charlotte. I imagine she would be quite unhappy for you to waste her money in such a way."

Natalie thought of the things Charlotte could do to her: homelessness, poverty, or even just worse treatment within her own home. She was powerless here, and her only hope was to agree with this madness until she had enough resources to get away.

So far Natalie had only managed to save $100.

"Okay, Doctor Sahi," Natalie said, feeling a flash of anger at the woman's triumphant smile.

"What will this entail?"

The doctor wheeled her chair backwards a bit from her heavy wooden desk.

"Normally we would start with a smaller exposure and work our way up to this step, but I see your illness is quite deep-seated. We will need to develop an accelerated plan for you."

The doctor went on: "For the first session, I will need for you to crawl in the space beneath my desk. I will remove my shoes and place my feet on your face. We will remain this way for the rest of the session -- perhaps another thirty minutes or so. You are not to speak, and are to avoid all unnecessary movements."
Natalie's eyes shot wide open, and she felt a wave of total dread wash across her entire body. This wasn't a 'treatment' – it was torture!

"Doctor, please--" Natalie said.

"Enough!" the woman roared, scowling at young Natalie.

"Follow my directions or leave my office! It's that simple."

Natalie bowed her head, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose to find the courage to continue. When she finished, she walked up to the doctors desk and got on her hands and knees, crawling into the dark little space down there. It was already claustrophobic and uncomfortable – the stiff floor pained her tailbone and the air seemed stale. Then the doctor scooted her chair forward, trapping Natalie down there.

"Good!" the doctor said, sounding sweeter. "Now I will remove my shoes and place my feet on your face. During this time, you will sit with your head and shoulders against the modesty panel of my desk. You will keep your back on the ground, and your legs outstretched on either side of my rolling chair. It's better if you close your eyes – the reason you are beneath my desk is to eliminate any visual stimulation."

It took all of Natalie's determination to assume such a horrible pose. Before she shut her eyes, she noticed that the doctor had on opera-length black stockings and black pumps that seemed pretty worn. Time seemed to slow down as she heard leather shoes hit the floor, and then felt a damp, hot thing touch her face.

Her first instinct was to turn away – the Pakistani woman's feet were positively ripe! Being trapped in leather stilletoes all day, and supporting her considerable weight must have put a lot of stress on them, and Natalie almost gagged as some of the moisture from the woman's rank feet became stuck to her pretty young face. She was sure her face was green with how disgusted she felt right now.

"Do not turn away," the doctor said gravely. Natalie bit her lip in frustration, and returned her face to its original position facing the doctor.

Her 'reward' was another hot, sweaty foot coming down on her cheek – the woman had the audacity to rest both of her soles against Natalie's face! Now Natalie had no choice but to keep her eyes shut – Dr. Sahi had covered them with the balls of her feet. Prisha put both her plump feet against Natalie's face in such a way that the girl's nose peaked out between the woman's arches then seemed to spread her legs a little, for an unknown reason.

Natalie was truly in hell. Her face felt horribly warm and clammy – her own perspiration mixed with the sweat from the woman's feet to create a substance fouler than foul and it seemed to coat her entire face. Her nose was overwhelmed with the sour, acrid aroma from Prisha's feet. It seemed to bypass her thinking mind and trigger her revulsion instinct – she could even notice such subtle things as the difference between leather and foot sweat.

Dr. Sahi continued working at her desk, largely ignoring the girl. Occasionally, she would rub her soles up and down the length of Natalie's face, and one time she even itched her sole against the girls' upturned nose! At one point when her face wasn't totally covered Natalie dared to open her eyes, and what she saw took her breath away.

Dr. Sahi had one finger on the outside of her panties, and she was teasing her meaty pussy lips through the cotton fabric while she rubbed her feet on Natalie's face! This was too much to stand – Natalie had to speak up.

"D-doctor, are you... playing with yourself?" Natalie asked. She wasn't sure how to address another woman masturbating, so she just erred on the side of caution.
"Yes, Natalie," was the doctor's condescending response. "I have a compulsion, and sometimes it is too hard to ignore. Since we are pretending you aren't there, I am acting as I normally would. Please do not say anything more."

What a paper-thin excuse! There was no legitimate reason for a woman to be masturbating as she rubbed her sweaty feet in Natalie's face unless she somehow got off on treating another person this way. But soon another dominant foot covered Natalie's eyes, and she swore she could sense the doctor's fingers moving more urgently at her womanhood. Was it really worth all this just to keep a crappy room in a house she used to own??

By the end of the thirty minutes, Natalie was worried she would go insane, locked away in that little prison. The doctor's ministrations filled the area with another odor that made Natalie's skin crawl and when the session finally finished Natalie practically jumped out from beneath the woman's desk, looking totally undignified as she escaped. Even though she didn't want to, Natalie ventured a glance towards the woman's white cotton panties and saw they were totally soaked through. She could see the clear outline of the woman's fat lips, and a great deal of hair poking out from beneath the fabric. Natalie got away as quickly as she could, feeling like she had lost some part of herself down beneath that desk.

Dr. Sahi frowned, but ignored Natalie in favor of making a phone call to her receptionist.

"Yes, Ethan? Please bring me a fresh pair of panties. The white ones again. Thank you."

Natalie remained silent, trying not to toss up her lunch, and soon a young man came into the doctor's office with a respectful knock. She had seen him in the waiting room beforehand: early 20s, blond hair, attractive but in a androgynous or even effeminate way. His outfit didn't help: he had on tight black bottoms that looked more like yoga pants, and a salmon pink shirt. Maybe another guy could have pulled it off, but on him it just seemed effete.

To Natalie's surprise, the young man knelt before Dr. Sahi and reached beneath her mauve dress, then started pulling her panties down her legs! The doctor noticed Natalie's horrified expression, and began to explain herself.

"Don't worry about Ethan – this is part of his own treatment."

She rested one hand on the boy's head, mussing his hair a little.

"He came to me with erectile dysfunction issues, and couldn't quite afford my prices. I needed a receptionist, so we made a deal! It's part of his program to be open about his condition – I have him send messages to women on dating sites to lessen the stigma within his mind. He is also telling all the girls he went to school with whom he found attractive -- and they have been surprisingly open to discussing it with him!"

The boy was blushing – he was totally ashamed to have his issues broadcast like that as he eased the sodden panties down the doctor's thighs, and to her bare feet. In Natalie's imagination, the things were steaming, and she couldn't imagine any work relationship where a boy would handle his employer's dirty panties. When they were on the ground, Natalie saw again they were soaked through – a considerable amount of cum had absorbed into the things and discolored them. With total deference, Ethan took away the doctor's used panties and helped her step into a new pair, then started raising them up her legs for her. The doctor kept talking:

"After a few sessions, we realized something: he was too attached to skinny white girls with tiny waists and no boobs."

Natalie twitched: it felt like the doctor was deliberately describing her body type and in a rather coarse way.

"So I am trying to get him to accept the beauty in a variety of different body shapes, starting with my own. Functionally, this means he must masturbate while looking at photos of me and other women like me. Of course he mustn't finish without my permission, or permission from whoever is in the photo. This is to help him understand that his future partner will have her own needs. But while he follows a strict abstinence program, I completely encourage him to use his mouth to provide relief to different women – especially older ones whose husbands have lost interest in that specific duty."

Ethan had a pained expression on his face as he finally got the doctor's panties back on to her. He looked like he wanted to die, but instead scurried out of the room carrying the woman's undergarments as though they were a fragile artifact. Natalie had never seen anything so strange, and alarms were going off in her mind. The guy seemed totally cowed by this woman – Dr. Sahi definitely wasn't telling the entire story here. What sort of twisted power did she have over this boy??

And would Dr. Sahi do something like that to her, too?

"Anyway, as for you: you have failed this first day," Dr. Sahi said, looking at Natalie as though she were a traffic jam, or a poorly-behaved daughter.

Natalie couldn't believe it! How dare this bitch say she 'failed' – didn't she sit quietly while the woman rubbed her vile feet all up and down her face for over half an hour?! And she didn't even object to the woman frigging herself all the while, or make any comment on the woman's little sex-slave receptionist!

"But how!?" Natalie demanded to know. Anger was rising within her, and anxiety about her fate beneath this woman's governance.

"You must be outwardly grateful for any exposure to womens' feet for the treatment to take hold. You will smile, and be thankful, and soon your mental attitude will shift to match your performance. In fact, from now on it is better if you ask me for a session with my feet, and thank me afterwards. I can excuse it because you didn't know the rules, but we will need to repeat this specific program at least one more time... maybe several more."

Natalie shook her head.

"I won't do it," she said, glaring at the hateful woman.

The thick Pakistani doctor was amazed at first, but collected herself. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed and she gave Natalie a sadistic smile.

"Yes, I thought you might object. Just know that the stronger your objections are, the more extreme your treatment will be."

The threat was unmistakable, but Natalie wouldn't budge. The doctor continued lecturing.

"We have a correction for such an occasion. Go and tell Miss Charlotte that you had a critical failure today, and see what her response is. When you return, you will need to show me the proper humility."

The woman's tone told Natalie everything she needed to know – she clearly got off on having power over people. But Natalie recoiled at the idea of bowing to such a horrid person. She stood defiant, summoning all her resolve to make a stand here and now.

"When you return, you will open that door, get on your hands and knees, and crawl over to me. Then you will kiss the hem of my skirt and kneel by my side, waiting for my acknowledgment. When I give it to you, you will assume your position for as long as I desire. There may be other things I add to your penance, as well."
"I know this seems extreme, but it is required for your level of... recalcitrance."

Natalie just stared at the woman.

"Never!" Natalie roared. "Never in a million years will I sit beneath your mank feet for one minute! You... you bitch!"

Natalie expected this to catch the woman by surprise, but the sadistic doctor only seemed to delight in her little outburst.

"Very well, Natalie," the woman responded in a condescending tone. "You won't ever be beneath my feet again. And you definitely won't be strapped down to make sure you cannot interfere with the treatment. And you definitely won't take my dirty stockings home with you to clean, as a homework assignment..."

Natalie stormed out of the doctor's office, past the receptionist who looked like he was caught in the act of nuzzling the panties he had just taken, and bounded out onto the sidewalk. She was beyond herself with anger, and her face absolutely reeked of Prisha's feet. Natalie walked like a madwoman up the street, looking for the closest public bathroom where she could freshen up. A hostess at a nearby restaurant gave her a frightened look as she darted past her and into the restroom, scouring her pretty face with cheap soap and tepid water from the sink.

But as much as she scrubbed, she couldn't seem to get the smell of dirty feet out of her face. It felt like the odor had seeped into her subcutaneous skin, like some awful tattoo. When she realized her defeat, she looked up into the mirror at her reddened face. Only then did the gravity of her situation strike: she was about to return to her landlady with a 'critical failure,' and she couldn't imagine the punishments Charlotte Lamberton would met out for that.

End of part 1.

This story was inspired by a (satirical) news article where J.K. Rowling bought up an Internet troll's house and foreclosed on him. Any suggestions on where it should go? Please comment with strengths and feedback, it keeps me writing to hear from people and I hope you enjoy.

If you DO like what I'm doing, please pledge on my patreon! The link is:

It helps support me so I can put aside time to write more of this kind of stuff. Also I commission great illustrations and drawings with the money. Seriously, pledge! I want to commission a drawing of Taylor Swift riding a hand-drawn rickshaw pulled by some unfortunate (and very famous) slave girl!

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Joined: August 21st, 2015, 9:00 pm

September 13th, 2017, 3:00 pm #2

Other than a few name mix-ups and grammar/spelling mistakes, that was terrific!  I really enjoyed the humiliation of Natalie having to serve Charlotte and rub her feet, then take a job with lower pay that involves being near feet, and finally the trip to see the sadistic doctor who wants to force Natalie to deal with feet even more.

I don't normally like to tell an author where a story should go, so please take this wherever your imagination leads. I am sure it will be fantastic, so please continue adding to it.  :-)

Joined: May 16th, 2002, 11:48 am

September 14th, 2017, 12:09 am #3


Looking forward to more.

Joined: July 26th, 2008, 7:12 pm

September 14th, 2017, 10:53 pm #4

want in amazon

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Joined: February 23rd, 2012, 2:59 am

September 15th, 2017, 3:57 am #5

I love this story already. I always say there's nothing better than when the "slave" character is forced into it and doesn't enjoy it

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Joined: September 27th, 2001, 11:27 am

September 18th, 2017, 1:08 pm #6

Great start!

Joined: December 2nd, 2006, 6:06 pm

October 5th, 2017, 12:48 am #7

Fantastic story!!!  I love the f/f theme with Natalie being a slavegirl.  The Paki doctor was such a bonus too, it's rare you have Indians/Arabs/Middle Eastern descent being dominant in these type of stories.  Amazing. 

Joined: September 13th, 2017, 6:59 am

October 17th, 2017, 3:23 am #8

Here's the second chapter, which I posted on my patreon about 17 days ago. Anyway, just wanted to share it here too!

Natalie was blind with anger, stuffing clothes and toiletries into a suitcase. Charlotte's audacity caught her off guard, and that was saying something.

    The nerve of that woman! If Natalie didn't want to let Dr. Sahi rest her smelly feet on her face, why would she allow Charlotte to do the same thing, and in the comfort of her own home?! And at least the doctor had an excuse for why it would benefit Natalie (even if the girl didn't believe it for a second; if anything the treatment seemed to make her foot phobia even more pronounced). When Charlotte requested it, though, she just sounded like a posh bitch demanding a human footrest.

    Natalie went over her argument with Charlotte again and again in her mind as she packed away her belongings: she was particularly proud of the way she stood her ground – her fierce  assertion of her own dignity in the face of Charlotte's smug grin.

    "No way!" Natalie shouted, disgusted by the way Charlotte had expectantly kicked her battered white Keds off. She apparently hadn't been wearing socks all day.

    Even halfway across the room, Natalie took notice of the odor. It brought to mind being beneath that horrible Pakistani woman's feet for so long. Flashback feelings of helplessness, degradation, and humiliation dominated her thinking, and she felt like if she submitted to Charlotte it would worsen her condition somehow.

    "Excuse me?" Charlotte said, leaning forward and glaring at Natalie.

    "You heard me! I won't do it! I hate feet, why are you so obsessed with them?"

    "You're the one with the obsession, Natalie," Charlotte said calmly, "it's just that you have a negative obsession. Honestly, I think it will be weird having my feet in your face too, but Dr. Sahi is worried about your condition, and I agree."

    Charlotte was lying through her teeth: she adored the idea of resting her tired, sweaty feet on this bratty girl's face. She had specifically worn her old Keds and run around all day to make it worse for her. To have her old critic as her human footrest made her feel so powerful, and sexy. And Natalie's petulance made it even better! To know that beneath her feet, a helpless girl was scowling and cursing herself for getting trapped in the most degrading position – it was too good!

    "I won't do it," Natalie repeated. "So.. what happens next?"

    Charlotte paused, then let out a long sigh.

    "You will need to move out, Natalie. Immediately. Dr. Sahi warned me that if you get too excited, you could have a violent outburst, and I'm afraid for my safety. If you want to live under my roof, you need to undergo Dr. Sahi's program to the letter."

    For a moment, Natalie actually did consider slapping the blonde bitch right across her face. But she knew that Charlotte would sue, and she would certainly go to jail, making it even harder for her to escape poverty.

    Natalie shook her head, and went to her room to pack. As soon as she finished, she dropped the key on the table. She knew she wouldn't get her deposit back, but it was worth it. She flipped Charlotte off on her way out, and peeled out of the driveway, heading nowhere in particular.

    She ended up sleeping in her car in a quiet residential neighborhood. At about 2AM, there was a flood of lights and a knock on her window. A mean-looking police officer calmly explained that it was illegal to sleep in her car. Natalie told the truth: that she didn't have a place to stay, and that this was temporary. The officer walked away, and Natalie racked her mind for where she could spend the nights. All the shelters were full due to the new vagrancy laws that passed last year--

    Natalie's blood ran cold when she realized how precarious her situation was right now. Those vagrancy laws had criminalized homelessness, and basically put poor people into a huge industrial complex that was tantamount to slavery. But they wouldn't charge a young white girl with that, would they?
    "Step out of the car, ma'am," The officer said, resting one hand on his weapon. Never had a police officer taken that tone with her before – until tonight, they had been smiling, helpful and even a little flirty.

    Soon she felt the cold steel handcuffs close on her dainty wrists, and had her legs kicked apart so the officer could search her for weapons and drugs. All the while he explained that she had admitted to being a vagrant, and would be referred to a state facility that could give her help. It was almost enough to make her laugh, the base hypocrisy of it. She was going to a jail, plain and simple.

    As she rode away, she saw her car being towed even though it was parked legally. There was another $500 fee.

    The processing was traumatic. She had expected to be fingerprinted, but the officers didn't stop there. A frowning woman told her to take her shoes off so they could add her toe prints into the system as well! Afterwards, the same corrections officer took a cotton swab and roughly gathered some saliva and tissue from inside Natalie's mouth. It felt dehumanizing, and even then they weren't finished. Next they had her sit in a tiny chair with several cameras facing it from all different angles. She had to stare into each camera for several seconds so they could add her facial analytics to their database.

    By the time she reached her temporary cell, her spirit was nearly broken. Everywhere was lit by awful fluorescent light, and all she could think about was how doomed she was. What were her options now? What choice did she have but to return to Charlotte on her hands and knees, and submit to whatever outrageous whims the women could come up with?

    In the morning, she was released from her cell and taken to a interrogation room where a heavy-set lawyer immediately took control of the situation. He was balding, and obviously in poor health but he still had a professional demeanor – even the police seemed to demur in his presence. Right away, Natalie knew this guy didn't work cheap.

    He dismissed the officers so they could have privacy, and started right in.

    "Miss Osinski, I am Mr. Bannerman, I have been hired to represent your case by Miss Lamberton. You should know that the police found marijuana in your car – concentrates, too. The prosecutor will probably push for an enhanced sentence under the new 'three strikes' law. "

    Natalie was floored. Getting hit with the 'three strikes law' was about the worst thing that could happen to her. She couldn't even wrap her mind around it.
    "Miss Lamberton does not want to see you go to a Vagrant Center – you probably know that they are highly unpleasant. Long, hard work days and poor food rations. And that's not even mentioning the culture behind bars. Judging by your case, you would probably be facing a 10 year sentence. No parole."

    Natalie remembered reading in the news about how private prisons had lobbied for mandatory minimum sentences on 'vagrants.' She never thought she would be in the cross hairs of such a terrible law. Those centers were glorified sweatshops and chain-gangs, where the poor could slave away for pennies to make life more comfortable for the well-off. Also, the 'three strikes' thing was just a bullshit reason to get people to stay in those centers even longer.

    The lawyer went on. He explained that he knew the judge, and that she preferred to find alternatives to jail sentences. As soon as Natalie heard this news, she felt cold dread take hold of her body. Then Mr. Bannerman produced a plea bargain for Natalie to read.

    "This is the best we could get. Charlotte is a very wealthy client, and she can afford to take you on as a... private inmate. During this time, you would technically be on work-release from jail. As such, you will not be allowed to own much in the way of property, and you will face random parole hearings to see that your treatment is going well. Miss Lamberton would be your warden, and her word will carry a lot of weight during these hearings. You should probably just go with whatever she thinks is best – or you could end up hunched over some assembly line, stitching the "Nike" logo onto sneakers for twelve hours a day."
    He meant this as a joke but it was a bitter, offensive jest.

    Natalie went white as a sheet – her pallor was amplified by the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. She caught her reflection in the one-way mirror and barely recognized herself – all color gone, all pride vanquished. She looked at the documents, but didn't sign them.

    "Listen, Natalie, I know you have your doubts. But I can promise you that anything is better than jail."

    She glared at the man. What did he know?! If she signed, she would be little more than Charlotte Lamberton's property. Her pet. A little slave girl who she could order to do the most outrageous and humiliating things, with full security in the fact that she could just send Natalie to jail if she disobeyed. And if Natalie said, 'no' to Charlotte – what then? She might as well remove the word from her vocabulary.

    The threat of prison saw to that. So, with white knuckles, Natalie signed her name to the plea bargain again and again. The lawyer looked on, helpful but a little bored. When Natalie finished, she followed him out of the jail and into his Mercedes. She was confused by the fact that they didn't head home, instead arriving at some uptown salon. The lawyer double-parked his BMW out front, and told her they were waiting for her inside.

    "What's going on?" Natalie asked, wanting nothing more than to go home and sleep in her own bed.

    "Miss Lamberton has paid for you to get a makeover before you return home," the guy said, obviously annoyed at having to take so much of his time with her. To him, Natalie seemed like a temporary annoyance and he wanted to be rid of her as soon as possible.

    Natalie wanted to object, but she knew better. One little peep and it was back to jail! Instead she climbed out of the car and walked into the salon.

    It was an upscale place, and a Filipina receptionist greeted her as soon as she walked in. Although Natalie felt anxious being here, the receptionist's confidence helped put her at ease. They walked to the shampoo bowl as the receptionist explained the services Natalie would be getting: a cut and color, a mani/pedi, and an eyebrow waxing. Although that sounded like a lot, Natalie couldn't help but relax as she felt warm water run over her scalp, and loving hands massage shampoo into her hair, which she hadn't washed for a few days. It was interesting how this little act of kindness seemed to create a barrier between the horrors of jail and the joys of freedom – Natalie knew she couldn't go back to that awful place.

    The Filipina girl had quite skilled hands, and apparently her job was to make this as enjoyable as possible: the massage went on for quite some time. Natalie was nearly nodding off by the time her shampoo finished, and awoke to the feeling of a glass of wine being put into her hands. She sipped some of it – very good stuff.

    By the time she was seated at the hairdresser's station, it was easier to enjoy the feeling of being taken care of than it was to ruminate on how badly she was screwed. An alternative-looking girl arrived, with full-sleeve tattoos and multiple facial piercings, and ran her hands through Natalie's wet hair to inspect it more closely.

    "Hi, I'm Diana. So you're getting a pixie cut? You have the right hair for it... It's just... I've never seen someone come in here when someone else picked out their hairstyle" the cosmetologist said, clearly struggling to find a polite way of navigating this issue.

    Natalie blinked. A pixie cut?! Those were so out of style – they hadn't been popular in years!

    "And dying it black, eyebrows too. Well I guess I have my work cut out for me!" Diana said, reaching for the scissors.

    Natalie took one last look at her hair and drained her entire glass of wine. The Filipina girl dutifully refilled her glass, with quite a bit more this time.
    Natalie loathed the idea of another woman telling her what to do with her hair, but what option did she have? Soon Diana had lopped off more than three quarters of Natalie's hair – much more than she had anticipated the girl would do. It made a serious difference in the way Natalie came across. She seemed more elfin now – her glass-like facial features more fragile and youthful. Admittedly, the stylist did a good job on the haircut, but it still felt weird to feel cool air on the back of her neck for the first time in years.

    While Diana cut Natalie's hair, she talked in a bubbly tone.

    "So, are you in like a special relationship with this Charlotte woman? I've done something like that before – one time I even slept in a dog cage!"

    Natalie raised an eyebrow – this girl was into some kinky stuff! She started to get a little embarrassed at Diana's openness, and just murmured something indistinct in response.

    "Yeah, I had to get out of it, though. He got way too controlling. He wanted me to do something like the Alexander Technique where I study myself in a mirror doing every little thing so I can do it in a better way. All these little guidelines, like he wanted me to act like some stupid ballerina whenever I sat on his lap. Too much!"

    Diana had finished the biggest cuts, and was adding texture to Natalie's hair with smaller snips. The end result was a mini, ruffled pixie cut – with enough bangs for Natalie to cover her forehead in a disarming way, but very short everywhere else.

    "Now for the dye," Diana said, mixing a potent brew of chemicals in a little plastic bowl.

    By the time Diana was finished, Natalie looked like a different person. Bitter thoughts crossed Natalie's mind on just who that person was. She thought she looked like a little nymph or a gamine – or some wayward orphan with big eyes and a serious need to be protected. She certainly looked years younger, and more naive. She had a hard time taking herself seriously, and she couldn't imagine what other people would think.

    "So, how does it look?" Diana asked.

    This was the worst part. Diana had technically done a good job, and Natalie didn't want to offend her.

    "It looks good! Thank you," Natalie said, smiling.

    When Natalie saw her smile in the mirror, she understood just how transformative this haircut was. It seemed like it was designed to endow her with a sense of frippery, a playful innocence that she wouldn't be able to shake. An assistant came to sweep up Natalie's long brown hair as she went to sit in the nail salon area. Skilled technicians trimmed her nails, massaged her hands and feet and finished it off with a fine, french mani/pedi. They used gel, so the polish would stay on for weeks. This was another mark against her: french manicures were largely seen as ostentatious and gaudy – maybe excusable for a teenager going to prom but inappropriate for a more mature woman.

    She sighed as she looked down at her nails, again impressed by the craftsmanship but ashamed at how they made her look. The buzz from the wine was wearing off at this point, and she was getting sleepy. Soon a rideshare came to pick her up and deliver her back to Charlotte's house, where she could begin serving her lengthy jail sentence.

    The driver, a middle-aged man with an Armenian accent, chided her for skipping school.


    She knocked on the door to Charlotte's home, unsure if she was even welcome to come and go freely anymore.

    Charlotte came to the entrance, and beamed a radiant smile at Natalie. Natalie glared back at her, but she felt like her attempt at being dour was totally undercut by her playful hairstyle.

    "Natalie! I'm so glad to see you. Come in, we have a lot to talk about. Cute hair, by the way."

    The way Charlotte was pretending to be her friend made Natalie uneasy. She felt like a guest in her own home. No, not a guest, a prisoner. And her warden was a twisted woman who seemed to delight in her humiliation. What sorts of indignities did Charlotte have in store for Natalie, now that she had no escape but to prison?

    She didn't have to wait long to find out.

    "Here, take a seat," Charlotte said, pointing to the ottoman in front of the sofa that she was currently using as a footrest.

    She had those same battered Keds on her feet that she wore the last time. Except now, Natalie had no choice but to sit by the woman's feet, as far away as possible on that small ottoman.

    "Could you help me with my shoes? I hit the gym pretty hard today, and I'm feeling tired," Charlotte said. She didn't mention that she had worn those same Keds to the gym, and run several miles in them on the treadmill, but Natalie would find that out as she obediently removed the woman's old sneakers.

    Natalie's fingers trembled in a vain show of defiance as she unlaced Charlotte's shoes and slipped them off her warm feet. The smell hit her right away – the blonde bitch wasn't even wearing socks of course. Natalie wanted to recoil, to stand up and run out the door, but it only took one thought of jail to keep her exactly where she was.

    "Thanks!" Charlotte said, wiggling her toes.

    "Anyway, I had a long conversation with Dr. Sahi about how we should approach your treatment. It was illuminating how well she understands you – she really thinks our relationship is the key to your rehabilitation."

    "How?" Natalie asked.

    "I think she used the term ' prolonged exposure therapy,' which means you will need to be exposed to feet like, a lot. Different feet in different situations: like if you massage my feet right when I get out of a bath that's good, but it's also good if you rub them right after I get home from dancing all night after I skipped a shower that day."

    Natalie nearly gagged at the thought. Charlotte was playing innocent, but she clearly loved the idea of having Natalie at her feet.

    "And not just MY feet, either. You'll need to see all different types: Dr. Sahi's, my friends, your old friends. You know your ex David? The doctor said it would be especially helpful if you were exposed to his new girlfriend's feet with him present."

    Natalie's mind reeled at the thought. That breakup was less than amicable, and she still felt kind of raw about it. But one thing was for sure: she hated David's new girlfriend Jillene. She was one of those preppy, basic bitch types who didn't care about anything outside herself and having fun.

    "But that's only the basic concept of the therapy," Charlotte said, smiling as she saw Natalie's involuntary show of terror.

    "Because of your arrest, Dr. Sahi thinks it's necessary to greatly expand the treatment. In order for it to be most effective, we will need to remove certain considerations from your day-to-day life. This means that you will wear a uniform in my home and outside of it, and that you will need to surrender a lot of control over your choices. Like, instead of worrying about choosing what to eat, and making it, I will decide what you eat and when. You can ask me for food, but ultimately it will be my decisions you live by. This way, you can direct all your mental focus onto getting better!"

    Natalie frowned, and shook her head. She hated uniforms – the way they flattened people's individuality in the service of some authoritarian force. It seemed like Charlotte and the doctor had designed this treatment to crush even the slightest hope of freedom. Or worse, to dangle it in front of her so it was forever just out of reach of her french manicured fingers. And what was their reasoning? So all Natalie's attention would be constantly focused on the very things that were an affront to her!

    "Anyway, there's more to it, but go ahead and put your uniform on, then come back and you can start massaging my feet. They've been lonely with you gone!"

    Charlotte dismissed Natalie to her room like some menial – yet another slight. When Natalie got to her room, though, she gasped in horror.

    Charlotte had gotten rid of nearly all of Natalie's possessions. The room looked like a stripped-down college dormitory, with just a twin-sized bed in the middle and a single dresser. Natalie's photos, posters, and other decorations were all gone, along with her books and clothes. Then she opened the closet and there was a coup de grace to her dignity hanging there.

    Charlotte's 'uniform' for Natalie was nothing more than a tight-fitting grey cotton tennis dress, with a white skirt that flared out in an eye-catching way. Natalie struggled to even get it on – it felt like the cotton had some stiff underwiring that compressed her ribs and tummy in a painful manner. The skirt was far too brief – micro length, so its hemline was much closer to her narrow waist than to her exposed knees. If she let her hands fall to her sides, her knuckles brushed the bottom edge of the skirt. Any attempt to smooth it down failed.

    A pair of white lace socks with ruffled anklets rested atop the most prurient shoes that Natalie had ever laid eyes on. They were Oxford platform high heels, but in a vibrant pink color. The things were polished to a nearly reflective shine, and had a subtle hand-tooled pattern along the topline. These shoes were so bad they made Natalie miss the old ballet flats Charlotte had forced upon her, but those were gone along with most of her other stuff. It took some practice for her to even stand on the ridiculous platform heels, and because she could only rest her weight on a very small portion of her feet, her steps were reduced to a hobbling gait.

    Natalie couldn't bear to look at her reflection in one of the many mirrors that Charlotte had installed in the room, and instead returned to her landlady. The click-clack of her heels echoed through the home that was once hers as she went to massage the feet of the woman who stole it from her. Charlotte eyed the girl up and down with an expression that seemed to say, 'oh my god, I can't believe she actually put it on!!'

    Red in the cheeks, Natalie took her place on Charlotte's footrest and received the woman's feet into her lap. Without much prodding, she covered her hands in oil and began massaging the woman's tired soles as Charlotte leaned back and flashed a wide grin.

    "I don't know what it is about french manicures, I just like them. Never on myself, of course, but on a waitress or a maid it just seems so... appropriate, you know? Like I can really see your fingers work on my toes."

    Natalie just nodded. She could feel the muscles in Charlotte's feet relax at her touch, and cursed herself for bringing this woman so much comfort.

    "Anyway, you have another appointment with Dr. Sahi tomorrow. She will fill you in on the rest of your treatment. And I talked to Ivan. He said that your criminal history is okay, you just need to let each of your clients know. I'm sure you two can work something out."

    Natalie was stretching Charlotte's toes as she heard this, gently pressing each one backwards in a way the woman seemed to enjoy. She thought of ways she could escape: maybe she could transfer to a different warden? Or appeal her case? But those things cost money, and if there was one thing Natalie knew it was that Charlotte would block any opportunity for her to wriggle free. So she sat rubbing Charlotte's sweaty feet, trying to ignore the fact that the woman had serendipitously placed her dirty Keds right next to the place she was seated.

    Charlotte took it easy on Natalie that first night, knowing that the girl had just gotten out of jail and too much stress would just slow down her treatment. She did point out the new house rule that Natalie was no longer allowed free use of the furniture outside her room: her place was on Charlotte's footrest, and even then only when Charlotte permitted it. If she needed to sit down otherwise, there was a small cushion in one the corner of the room where she could rest. It was a  raised and modified version of a zazen meditation pillow, though, and its sloped shape made it natural for Natalie's entire body to be pressed into the corner of the wall. 

    She sat there for quite some time that night, with nothing to do but brood on the injustice that had befallen her. Here she was a prisoner in her former home, wearing a ridiculously juvenile outfit, sitting with her nose in the corner like some misbehaving child while the bitch who stole everything away from her reclined on the sofa watching mindless TV shows.

    All she could think of were plots to escape – anything to avoid sitting beneath this woman's feet for her young adult life.


    What a sight Natalie made that first morning.

    She waited at the bus stop in her outrageous platform heels, nervously grasping the teeny, tiny pink clutch purse that Charlotte had provided for her. It was about as small as her fist, and looked like a toy – it was barely big enough to hold a cell phone. There wasn't even a strap to go around her shoulder, just a little round handle that made it look all the more frivolous. But it was her makeup that caught each stranger's eye that morning. It was so bad that most people didn't even notice her purse.

    Charlotte helped her this first morning, but cautioned that Natalie would need to create this look herself from now on. On her lips, she wore a clear pinkish wet look lip gloss, with eye-catching sparkles in it. Then there was the smoky pink eye shadow (with sparkles too, of course) and the winged eyeliner. Topping it all off was the long false eyelashes Charlotte had glued on her, at least until her natural lashes would grow to such a length. Charlotte had applied a serum to her lashes to ensure this would happen – already she felt an eerie itch that she didn't dare to scratch.

    Put together, she looked like a teenager catching a bus to prom, not a grown woman on her way to 'therapy'. Men seemed to appreciate her tartish look, eyeing her up and down like she was a piece of meat. Women openly scoffed at her, giving her mean side eyes and making too-loud comments on how she looked. By the time she reached the doctor's office, she had already suffered but it was nothing compared to what the plump Pakistani woman had in mind for her.

    She remembered what the doctor wanted to see. With equal parts disgust and trepidation, she opened the door to Dr. Sahi's office, got on her hands and knees, and crawled over to the awful woman. The carpet scraped against her exposed knees and she felt tiny flecks of dirt come off on her hands. When Natalie arrived to the woman's side, she kissed the hem of her red dress which rested against her mid-thigh, and knelt silently waiting for acknowledgment. Dimly, Natalie realized that her lip gloss hadn't even come off on the dress – apparently this was the expensive stuff.

    Dr. Sahi didn't keep her waiting long.

    "Ah, hello Natalie," she said, beaming down a smile at the girl. She probably meant to show authority, but to Natalie she just looked arrogant.

    "I'm glad to have you back. I think that we can work through all your neroses, and turn you into a functioning member of society. Please take your place beneath my feet, and I will begin explaining."

    Natalie crawled beneath the desk again, and lied down supine before the doctor with her head against the desk's modesty board.

    "To begin, you must ask to enjoy my feet," the Pakistani woman said, "Something like: 'Please put your feet on my face, Prisha. I am a silly little girl and I need your guidance.'"

    Natalie swallowed – it was so much worse to have to ask for this torture! But she repeated the doctor's words even as they felt bitter in her mouth.

    "Are you sure you want this?" Dr. Sahi asked, "I did not shower this morning – they might be a little dirty."

    Natalie clenched her jaw. She knew the answer the doctor was fishing for, but the thought of the woman putting her unwashed feet on her face was completely egregious. But what choice did she have?

    "Yes doctor, that's fine with me."

    The woman kicked off her leather heels and swiftly put both of her warm feet against Natalie's face – how could they possibly be this sweaty?? Wasn't the woman sitting at her desk the entire morning?

    "That was good, Natalie," Dr. Sahi said.

    It was not good, Natalie thought! Dr. Sahi's feet were worse than the day before, and the woman seemed a little too comfortable using her face as a footstool. The doctor clenched and flexed her toes, putting more pressure onto Natalie's face in a way that made the girl shudder.

    "Natalie, this next part will sound strange but you need to trust me. I need you to reach beneath your dress and start... self-stimulating."

    Natalie's body tensed up as she realized what the woman was asking. Dr. Sahi wanted her to masturbate while another woman rested her feet on her face?? No, never. It was too strange. She shook her head, at least as much as she could considering the fact that she was being smothered by hot, pungent feet. Natalie suspected that Dr. Sahi had even re-worn the same nylons from their last session – they were ripe enough.

    Dr. Sahi's tone went from polite to threatening in an instant.

    "Natalie, I do not have time for your hesitancy. In fact, now that you have tried to refuse, we must heighten your treatment. In addition to self-stimulation, I will need you to plant an occasional kiss on my feet, and thank me for helping you. I will also need you to call yourself a stupid bitch for doubting me."

    Dr. Sahi sensed Natalie's hesitation, but she was resourceful. Rather than hammering the poor girl further, she switched tactics.

    "I know this sounds wrong, but it is crucial to your wellbeing," the thick woman said in a more gentle tone.

    "This avoidance-oriented exposure will strike a serious blow to your mental hangups. And the only reason I am using such strong language is because it is within your lexicon."

    Natalie remembered when she stormed out of the woman's office, and called her a bitch. No doubt she was getting her revenge right now! But the friendly tone did make things more palatable, even though Natalie knew she was falling for the 'good cop bad cop' routine.

    "Anyway, every moment you wait is hurting your chances at recovery. Please begin now – I promise you that you won't like the next step if you keep showing resistance."

    Natalie's face contorted in anger, but she realized she was defeated.

    She reached beneath her tiny skirt, beneath her underwear and sought out her clit to begin rubbing it. As she did that, she planted a small kiss on the doctor's nyloned foot. It felt coarse and steamy against her lips, and a thin veneer of sweat seemed to rest atop her lip gloss as she pulled away from the kiss.

    "Th-thank you doctor for your help... I am a... stupid bitch for doubting you. Please keep helping me."

    Although she was blinded by the doctor's vile feet, she knew the woman was smiling. Natalie also felt the telltale movement of the woman's legs spreading apart, and realized the doctor was probably 'self-stimulating' too. This was beyond strange, beyond outrageous, and all Natalie could do was kiss the woman's smelly feet and continue repeating her demeaning phrase again and again.

    The worst part was that Natalie's act of playing with her clit was getting her genuinely aroused! After some continued attention, she was copiously wet down there in spite of this ridiculous circumstance. But Natalie made one show of resistance that the doctor didn't seem to pick up on: she did not allow herself to cum. It would be too embarrassing to have an orgasm beneath this woman's feet – like she was accepting the mistreatment on some level. They continued this way for quite some time.

    "Thank you for putting your beautiful feet on my face, Dr. Sahi. I'm a stupid bitch, and I need you to control me."

    The words shocked Natalie as soon as they came out of her mouth – something about her arousal seemed to lower her inhibitions. The doctor had told Natalie to improvise what she was saying, but that was quite a thing for her to invent on her own!

    "Good, Natalie. You are showing progress!" was the woman's response, and judging by her heavy breathing she was progressing towards something herself.

    Natalie had no doubt in her mind that the woman was cumming when Dr. Sahi jammed her feet more strongly up against Natalie's delicate face. Natalie saw stars in her darkened vision as the woman practically crushed her face beneath her feet, losing all composure and moaning loudly enough that her receptionist could certainly hear. She took her time, too, stretching out the orgasm for quite a few lovely sighs.

    When Dr. Sahi finished, she scooted back from the chair and smiled a contended lover's smile down at Natalie. The girl could only glare back, but she was thankful that Dr. Sahi pulled her feet away.

    "Wonderful, Natalie. Of course this is just a introductory session: we will need to go deeper in future meetings. For now, though, I am quite pleased with your progress. Please stand up and bend over my desk; I have medication that I need to administer."

    Natalie was cowed at this point, and meekly stood up on her platform heels beside the doctor's chair. Her face was utterly red, and damp with perspiration but none of her makeup had been affected. The woman produced a large, egg-sized yellow gelatin capsule and Natalie's eyes went wide as she realized what it was. Why on earth would Natalie require a suppository?!

    The unspoken threat hung in the air, though, so Natalie just lowered her gaze and turned her back on the doctor, bending at the waist to lower herself over the vile woman's desk. Dr. Sahi pulled down Natalie's panties all the way to her feet, and lifted her skirt up to access her tight rosebud.

    Natalie heard the doctor slather some lubrication on top of the massive suppository, then she was advised to relax her rectal muscles. With a sigh, Natalie did her best to allow the doctor to shove the object inside her butt. It felt like an intrusion – the girl was totally ashamed to permit another woman to treat her in such a way but she just relaxed and prayed for it to be over soon. Indeed, the woman pushed the suppository deep inside Natalie, then used a tissue to wipe the girl's butt clean.

    Opening her drawer, Dr. Sahi produced a new set of underwear that nearly drove Natalie to tears. It was nothing more than an adult diaper! Although it had been made to have a small profile, there was still the crinkling sound of plastic on paper, and the thing had velcro on the sides instead of an elastic band.

    "This is because the suppository might leak, and it would be quite embarrassing for you to find a mess in your underwear out in public," Dr. Sahi said.

    Natalie thought it was even more embarrassing to be seen in diapers! But she followed the woman's orders to lift her skirt up so the doctor could help her. Natalie was stunned as the woman put the thick pad across her nether regions, securing the straps firmly against her hips. Just like that, Natalie was diapered – she felt the puff of cotton against her butt and the things seemed to make an audible noise with each tiny shift of her legs.

    Natalie was so mortified that it didn't occur to her what was in that capsule. Dr. Sahi picked up Natalie's panties, then stepped out of her own and paged her receptionist into the room. The boy arrived with the utmost haste, and practically salivated at the sight of two pairs of panties.

    "Ethan, these belong to Natalie and myself," the woman said, holding up both pairs of undergarments. 

    "Nat, you don't mind helping Ethan with his treatment? I would appreciate it, and I'll see to it that Charlotte replaces these."

    Natalie agreed. Although she was uncomfortable with a guy worshiping her soiled panties, she was afraid of what would happen if she said 'no.' More bad therapy, no doubt.

    Besides, Ethan had it hard enough – by Dr. Sahi's description, the guy basically licked the pussy of any mature woman who desired it while boasting to the world of his own impotence. Ethan took the panties and left the room, and Natalie flattered herself in thinking that he was excited to get a pair that belonged to such a young, pretty girl.

    "So for your homework," Dr. Sahi began, sitting in her desk chair and leaning back with a delighted smile on her face.

    "I would like for you to pretend you have a foot fetish. Mention things in conversations to women about their feet: how cute they are, how you like their pedicures, if their shoes are comfortable. And be specific, mention things like their arches and their nail beds. Facing public stigma like this should help you see that liking womens' feet is nothing to be ashamed of."

    "What the fuck?!" Natalie thought.

    "She wants me to act like some perv, salivating over womens' feet in public? What kind of weirdo compliments an unfamiliar woman on her pedicure – what will people think of me?"

    "Okay," Natalie said, thinking that Dr. Sahi would really have no way of knowing what she did outside the office. She had no intention of following through with that, anyway.

    "Your job as a stretcher should be a great opportunity to openly admire feet – Charlotte introduced me to Ivan already and he's on board with the idea. He will supervise your progress, so try to do a good job, alright?"

    Natalie blinked. The cruel woman had thought of everything, hadn't she?!

    "Yes Dr. Sahi. Thank you for your help," Natalie murmured, gazing at the floor. She could feel a weird sensation between her cheeks, something like constipation that she couldn't do anything about. The doctor dismissed her and Natalie left a meek girl, not even taking notice of the reverence that Ethan was showing her panties as he sat at his desk.

Well, I hope you all like this newest chapter! I have the third one live on my page right now Here ( and I'm working to get another one out in 15 days or so.

Joined: May 16th, 2002, 11:48 am

October 17th, 2017, 11:40 am #9

This takes internet trolling punishment to a new level but fuck me I'm loving it.

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Joined: August 21st, 2015, 9:00 pm

October 17th, 2017, 1:54 pm #10

I really enjoyed the second chapter. Natalie's situation with Charlotte is even more unpleasant, and her "treatment" is bordering on diabolical. Can't wait to read what happens next!  :-)