Billy the Experiment

Billy The Experiment

PART 1

	I heard music even as I wearily climbed the stairs towards my apartment
and knew before I got to my door that Steve was home and probably entertaining.

	Steve was my roommate, and had been my best friend off and on since
First Grade; some twenty years.  We had been geeky little kids in grade school,
growing up together in a small West Coast town, and naturally seemed to
gravitate towards one another throughout school.  We had had the same likes;
science, science fiction and such, and for the longest time we were inseparable. 
We even got beat up together, as we were both scrawny and obnoxious little kids. 
Then we got separated for a time in junior high.  We went to separate schools
after his family moved cross-town to a better neighborhood, and we both made new
friends over the course of three years.

	When we finally linked up again in high school, I noticed right off that
he had changed.  I was still somewhat scrawny, though we had both had a growth
spurt and shot up over six feet tall.  Steve on the other hand had filled out as
well as up.  He had developed muscles, and traded in his glasses for contacts. 
His long greasy hair was now trimmed (almost coifed), and his skin was blemish
free.  I on the other hand still looked like a Chess Club reject, except that I
was not smart enough to get into the club.  Steve had excelled at school and
sports throughout junior high and then high school where I was barely floating
above 'C' level.

	Steve had become popular as well, but for some reason he renewed our old
friendship.  He was almost like a mentor, to a certain point, hanging out with
me and letting me eat lunch at the 'jock' table and such.  He even got me laid
for the first time on a double date.  High school turned out a lot better than I
had thought it would.

	College was good as well, as we both were accepted to a local state
college.  Steve of course went through four years on scholarships, barely paying
a dime whereas I had to struggle to pay my way and still had to drop out before
graduation.  My grades were slipping, and I had to work full time at every
menial job I could manage just to make ends meet.  Eventually it all became too
much, and rather than be flunked out I quit, saying that I would return someday
and get my Bachelor's Degree.  That has still not happened.

	What did happen was that Steve informed me that he was moving to New
York to make a name for himself on Wall Street, and that I was more than welcome
to come along for the ride.  I jumped at the chance, of course, as I had reached
a dead end in my hometown and did not look forward to a life of working in a
lumber mill or grocery store.  Steve had of course graduated with honors and had
several job offers in the 'Big Apple'.  He took the best one, on the promise
that they would have a spot for me as well in their organization.  What a guy.

	After a huge send-off (mainly for him), and a sad farewell with our
respective families, Steve boarded a plane for New York to set up shop; an
apartment, the job, etc., and I set out the next day driving his car and pulling
a U-Haul across country with all of our worldly possessions in tow.  It took him
eight hours to get to Manhattan, where it took me eight days.  I slept in the
car when I could, and forged his name on credit cards for gas and hotel when I
couldn't.  It was a long and miserable trip.

	Steve directed me through the torturous rush hour traffic of the city
via cell-phone upon my arrival.  Eventually I found the building that he said
housed our apartment, and saw him outside waiting for me.  It was a small
building on a quiet street in Chelsea, just north of Greenwich Village, and I
immediately wondered how I was going to be able to afford living there.  Steve
told me that his new company, some international bank, owned the building and
gave their employees a reduced rate in rent.  He also told me that the job the
company had in mind for me was in the mailroom at the office building where he
worked.  He would be making six figures whereas I would be making barely $35,000
by the end of the year, and not much above minimum wage to start.  There was
room for advancement, it seemed, but without my Degree, that was the best the
company could do for me.  Steve said we would work something out with the bills. 
I shrugged and agreed with his wisdom as I usually did.

	My next surprise was that our apartment was only one bedroom.  Steve
explained that there was some foul up with book keeping and that he was
registered with the company as married rather than with a roommate.  "Great..."
I thought, "Now I'm Mrs. Steve Sorenson."  He said he would get it all cleared
up, but for the time being we would have to deal with it.  The apartment was
great though, with a huge living room and kitchen, bathroom, enormous closets
and a bedroom to die for (though I would not be sleeping there).  The building
had a doorman, which was great, and its own laundry and roof garden.  Our
apartment faced a courtyard in the back, but that was fine with us for all the
perks.

	Steve had of course claimed the bedroom, but he had purchased a sofa bed
for me as well as a dresser set that fit well in with the decor of the living
room where I would be sleeping for the time being.  He also had rented out a
storage space for some of our stuff that we could not keep in the apartment or
did not need (i.e. my bedroom set, comic book collection, and other useless
articles).  I shrugged and agreed again, and we set about unloading the U-Haul
and settling in.  That was almost two years ago...

	My actual job was okay; not too hard and I moved right up in the ranks
of the mailroom.  My pay raises were slight, however, where Steve's were huge,
not including any bonuses he earned or for holidays.  We worked out an
arrangement where I would pay a smaller portion of the rent (which was only fair
since he had the bedroom), and I would do the majority of the cooking when
needed and the cleaning up.  He paid most of the bills except for my phone and
portion of the Electric Bill, and for his generosity, I became the housekeeper
and cook, though not in so many words.  It was not so bad, really, as I had been
brought up to do chores in my family's home, and Steve was not too sloppy. 
Still, it was a little demeaning at times, especially when Steve brought home
dates.

	Steve had become a ladies man during Junior High, and was always a prime
date throughout school.  He dated cheerleaders and the cream of the upper crust
crop throughout high school and college, then moved on to the best of the
'yuppie' set in adult life after graduation.  He rarely had a real girlfriend
that lasted more than a month, but they were all beautiful and well out of my
league.  When he brought one home for the night, there would usually be an
envelope with the doorman containing some money for a decent hotel where I was
expected to go.  Sometimes he did not care, and I would come home to find him
entertaining in his room, expected to stay out of the way and then clean up
afterwards as per our deal, our living arrangement as Mr. And Mrs. Steve
Sorenson, a clerical error that never seemed to get fixed.

	As expected, as usual, I found Steve sprawled on the sofa (my bed) when
I unlocked the door and entered the apartment.  He was watching television as
well as playing the stereo, dressed in a polo shirt and khaki pants with a beer
in hand.  I looked about, and saw that the bathroom door was closed and figured
that his date was in there.  He raised his bottle in greeting as I came into the
room.

	"Hey, Bill.  How's it goin'?"

	"Not bad." I said, plopping down in a small easy chair off to one side
of the room.  I noticed a backpack propped against the side of the sofa and knew
at once who his date must be.

	Sharon was not the typical type of girl that Steve usually dated.  She
was rather plain in fact, with long stringy brown hair that was always parted in
the middle and a figure that never really blossomed.  Steve usually dated the
curvaceous, big-breasted type that worked in his field.  Sharon was about as far
from that as could be.  Forty years ago she would have been labeled a hippie,
almost always wearing a thin-framed pair of 'John Lennon' glasses, ratty blue
jeans, tee shirt and flat leather sandals.  Sharon lived down on the Lower East
Side, which was a bit run down and much cheaper rent wise, and she worked at the
front desk of the Laundromat that was visible across the courtyard from our
bathroom window.  Steve was way out of her league, money-wise.

	Not to say that Sharon was not nice.  I in fact had introduced them.  I
had met Sharon first, one day when I had dropped off a few of Steve's suits and
shirts for dry-cleaning.  After a few visits, I got up the nerve to ask her out
on a date, and we had a really great time I thought.  I made the mistake of
bringing her home, however, and she met Steve.  I saw the immediate spark in her
eyes, though at the time it seemed that Steve was not interested.  Before long
though, she was seeing more of him, and less of me.  I was always baffled and
jealous of course, but Sharon was cute in an earthy kind of way, and I had long
ago learned to deal with my own inadequacies in love when compared to Steve. 
When Sharon finally gave me the "I just want to be friends" speech, I shrugged,
and agreed.

	"Shary's in the bathroom." Steve said as he flipped through the
television channels with the remote.  "We'll be out of your hair in a bit. 
Goin' to dinner and probably a movie.  We'll be back late, I suppose."  That was
good news to me.  It meant that I did not have to get lost for the night.

	I looked about the room and through the crack in the doorway to his
bedroom and saw that they had been around for awhile.  Steve's clothes were
strewn about his bed, and the kitchen sink was full from our breakfast dishes as
well as some glasses and plates they had dirtied.  I would have a bit of
cleaning up to do after they left, as per our living arrangement, but that was
the price I paid for living in the lap of Steve's luxury.  He offered me a beer,
but I declined.  I was never much of a drinker.

	We made small talk for a bit, until Sharon came out of the bathroom.  I
was impressed when I saw her, expecting her to be in her usual hippie garb.  She
was wearing a thigh-length summer dress that seemed to accentuate her figure and
a pair of leather moccasin boots that came up to her knees.  Her usually stringy
hair was washed out and full and she had braided one long strand to frame the
right of her face.  She never wore much make-up, but had on a clear lip-gloss
and a bit of mascara that made her look somewhat exotic compared to normal.  She
looked great.  She gave me a warm smile as she saw me and sat on the sofa next
to Steve, crossing her long legs but not bothering to adjust her skirt.  She
casually kicked her foot as she dug through her backpack.

	"Hi, Billy." She always called me Billy now, though she used to call me
Bill when we first met.  "How are you?"

	"Good, Sharon.  You look nice."

	She smiled again at the compliment as she grabbed Steve's hand. 
"Thanks.  Steve's taking me to dinner in the Village, then a movie.  I figured I
could spruce up a bit."

	"Sounds fun." I said, just a little envious of my friend.  I could not
seem to stop watching Sharon's legs.  She was apparently oblivious.

	"Want to tag along, Billy?" she asked, and Steve gave me a glare that
meant that I had better decline.  I said no.

	"Too bad.  Y'know you're always welcome."

	I thanked her as Steve downed the last of his beer then urged her to get
a move on so they could eat leisurely before the movie.  She gathered some
things into a small reticule and picked up a light sweater as Steve ushered her
to the door and grabbed his jacket.  I told them to have fun, then locked up
behind them, glad to be finally alone.

	I found myself sweating as I returned to the living room, and more than
a little erect.  Sharon had looked... different tonight, and more than a little
hot.  I had always had a thing for feet and shoes, and especially boots and her
moccasins had really got me excited.  I went into the bathroom to wash up, as I
was sure that I still smelled of work, and saw some of her cast-off hanging from
the shower rod; her jeans and tee shirt, panties, her wash rag.  I tried to
ignore it all and went out to fix myself some dinner.

	After a bowl of generic macaroni and cheese (with a bit of corn and tuna
fish mixed in for good measure) I set about cleaning up a bit.  I did the dishes
and washed up, then gathered Steve's clothes for the laundry.  I wiped down the
bathroom and put Sharon's things in a bag as my duties did not include washing
out her things, yet.  When I was finally satisfied with the order of the
apartment, I grabbed the beer Steve had offered earlier and sat down on the
toilet to enjoy a cigarette.  Steve did not smoke, but I did, and I was lucky
that he allowed me to have my smokes in the bathroom.

	I settled back, enjoying my little reward at the end of the day and
glanced out the window into the courtyard and the building behind our own.  My
gaze eventually settled on the back of the dry cleaners as it usually did, and
the women working the machines there.  There were three of them; a chubby one, a
cute one, and a third that was somewhere in between.  I had nicknamed them
'Crazy, Sexy, and Cool' after the album by TLC, and the names seemed to fit. 
They were Hispanic, and Cool was all work, but she looked good, where Sexy was
just that, usually dressed in a short skirt and tight shirt.  Crazy did her job,
but she always seemed to be playing and was the ringleader of the three.

	I must have been day dreaming, but when I looked out again, I saw that
Crazy was looking up at my window.  She laughed when she saw me see her, and
said something to the others as I ducked out of sight.  After a couple minutes,
when I looked again, I saw Crazy and Sexy watching, and Cool glancing up as she
worked.  Cool smiled, watching as she worked while the other two broke up in a
fit of the giggles, pointing at me.  I blushed, feeling the warmth of
embarrassment wash over me and quickly slid the frosted bathroom window shut.  I
wondered if this would get back to Sharon, and just how embarrassed I should
be...

PART 2

	I remember hearing the phone ringing...

	I woke up to a bright and garish light.  My face was wet, and all around
my field of vision was shining white.  Right before my eyes I could see a
shadowy, rippling image; a reflection of my face.  My shoulders hurt, and my
knees, and there was something wrapped tightly about my wrists and ankles.  I
heard a strange echo of someone's scream of shock as I tried unsuccessfully to
stand.

	There was a sudden pressure on my throat, and I began to choke.  Some
force pulled me backwards, and I saw in a flash that I had been kneeling with my
face in the toilet before I crashed to the floor.  I moaned as I fell on my arm,
my hands bound behind my back and totally useless.  Worse, the tight material
binding my wrists was also wrapped about my ankles which were then tied off to
my hands, creating an effective hog-tie.  I sprawled on the floor of the
bathroom, wincing in the sudden light and looking about, trying to figure out
just what was going on.

	Steve towered above me, his face red with rage and his eyes pink with
liquor.  He was drunk, still gripping tightly something about my throat that I
later learned was a dog collar.  Behind him stood Sharon, blocking the doorway
to the bathroom with a look of shock on her face.  Her eyes were huge, and her
hands were hiding her mouth, but it seemed that I saw the edges of a smile
curling her lips.  I glanced down at my bound body and saw the reason for her
amusement.  I was naked.

	"What the fuck is goin' on here?!" Steve shouted, jerking my collar.  He
was hunched over my helpless body, screaming in my face.  "What the hell are you
doin'?!"

	"I-" I tried to say, to explain, but Sharon cut me off.

	"Steve!  Take it easy.  You must have been robbed."  Sharon edged deeper
into the bathroom until she was standing over me as well.  Her feet were right
at my head, so close that I could smell the leather of her soft boots.  She
stared down at me.  "He's tied up.  He couldn't have done that to himself."

	She was right about that.  I had been intrigued by bondage most of my
life, but had dismissed it as another part of my 'geek-dom'.  I had been
interested, but had never taken it to the point of being tied up by anyone, or
doing it to myself.  I had no idea what had happened though, or how I had come
to get into this position.  I tried to speak again, but this time it was Steve
who cut me off.

	"Bull shit!"  Steve gave my collar a jerk and threw me back to the
floor.  "He was drinkin' outta the toilet for Christ's sake.  Tell me somebody
made him do that."  He gave me a kick in the butt, which in turn made my body
lurch forward and slammed my head against the base of the sink.  I saw stars for
a moment.  I sensed Steve leaning down, felt his spittle on my face.

	"Is this what you do to beat off, faggot?!  Is this what gets you hot?" 
He drove a fist into my arm, then back handed me across the face when I cried
out.  Tears welled in my eyes as I saw Sharon grab at his arm and haul him off
of me.  I felt the toe of her boot in my back as she shifted her feet.

	"Steve!  Stop it!  Untie him!"

	"No!" Steve slurred, driving his foot into my ass again.  "He went to a
lotta trouble to tie himself up.  He can get outta this himself."  He leaned in
close again, "Did'ja piss in the toilet before ya drank outta it, bitch?  Maybe
ya got lucky and Shary's piss was still there, hunh?  Is that it?"  He spat in
my face.

	"Steve!  Don't.  That's gross..." She sounded disgusted, but I heard the
slightest giggle in her voice and I had to wonder just how much she was actually
enjoying my predicament.  "Besides, I gotta pee!"

	"So?  Go ahead.  Fag boy'd probably get off on it."  Steve slammed me
down again and I heard Sharon giggle.

	"No way.  C'mon...Get him outta here.  I gotta go!"

	I felt Steve hook his arms beneath my armpits and I thought he might
drag me into the living room, but to my shock and surprise he merely hefted me
up and heaved me into the bathtub.  I landed hard on my shoulder and began to
moan in pain, my voice choking with tears.  He yelled at me to shut up, and a
second later I felt him cramming some silky cloth into my mouth before wrapping
a towel about my head and knotting it tightly in place.  I realized in a moment
that he had cleave gagged me with Sharon's panties stuffed into my mouth and
pressing down on my tongue.  I moaned into my gag and looked up at my best
friend and his girlfriend as they stared down at me.

	"Mmmmnnn..." I said around my gag, which caused Steve to sneer and
Sharon to giggle.  I hung my head in shame as Steve drew the shower curtain
closed, sealing me in.

	"That's right, bitch.  You better keep it shut.  I hear one sound outta
you and I'll kick the crap outta ya."  I heard Sharon whisper something about
the bathroom, and Steve grunted "Too bad...Deal with it."  Then I heard the door
to the bathroom slam shut.  I could see Sharon's silhouette against the shower
curtain as she stood thinking for a second.  Then I had to turn away as she
started to lower her panties and hike up her dress to sit on the toilet.

	I heard her stream of piss as she did her natural duty, then looked back
when I heard the water running in the sink.  She dried her hands, then I saw her
face as she peeked into the tub and smiled down at me.  The initial shock and
fright had vanished apparently, and she now seemed to have no trouble taking in
my plight, with great amusement.  She pulled the shower curtain back a bit, and
I was surprised to see her booted foot slip into the tub and rub lightly over my
bound body.  She whispered-

	"This is what you like, isn't it?" she said, flicking my growing penis
with the toe of her moccasin.  "I know.  I've seen you staring at my feet plenty
of times."  She grinned, giving my balls a little kick that made me moan. 
"Shhh... Better be quiet or Steve'll come and kick your ass."  She chuckled,
leaning down close... "I won't flush the toilet, Billy.  You might be thirsty
later."  She stood up laughing and quietly closed the curtain.  A moment later
the light went out and I heard the door close again.

	I could hear them talking in the other room as I lay there in the tub. 
My body hurt, and no matter which way I rolled I could not seem to get
comfortable.  I struggled with my bonds of course, but the ropes (Sharon's
discarded panty hose I later learned) were too strong, the knots too tight and
out of reach.  At some point I must have dozed, as I was awakened by the sounds
of Sharon and Steve having sex.  They were loud, and it lasted quite awhile.  I
wondered how much it excited them to do it with me bound and gagged within
earshot.

	I woke again, later, to an acrid smell and a stream of hot liquid
splashing in my face.  Through bleary eyes I saw Steve standing over me in the
darkness.  He was naked, and had his huge dick in his hand, guiding the stream
of his piss into my face.  "Drink up, buddy." He laughed as I wretched, trying
to turn away, but he just followed me, soaking my face, gag and hair.  He left
me crying, alone in the dark.

PART 3

	I woke to hot water splashing down in my face, but this time I saw that
it was from the shower.  Steve was standing over me in the dim morning light,
directing the water from the showerhead over my body as I writhed in the heat. 
I was moaning for him to stop, but he ignored me, not understanding my pleas
through my gag.

	"I'm gonna untie you..." he said, spraying my body, "but you stink. 
Gotta hose you down first."  When he was finally satisfied with my cleanliness,
he shut off the water and knelt on the edge of the tub to cut me free with a
pair of scissors.  I sprawled out in the wet tub when my limbs were free,
moaning with relief.  He left the gag for me to remove.

	"I'm willing to forget about last night."  He dried his hands as he
stared down at me, but I could hear the disgust still lingering on the edge of
his voice.  "I don't know what you were up to.  I don't really care.  Shary
thought we might have been robbed, but nothing is missing that I can tell.  I
don't know if you did that to yourself, or maybe you had a girl over...or a guy. 
Whatever, you got caught.  What you do when I'm not here is your business, but
if you keep this up, I think maybe you better find someplace else to live."

	"Steve..." I moaned, struggling to rise from the bath tub, then slinking
back as I realized that I was still naked.  "I didn't-"

	"I don't want to hear it.  Let's just forget about it."  He shrugged,
then turned to leave, pointing at a bundle of clothes on the toilet.  "Get
dressed.  Shary needs to use the bathroom."  He shut the door and left.

	I climbed out of the tub and dried off.  I was totally bewildered.  I
had no idea what had happened or how I had come to be tied with my head in the
toilet.  Had someone broken in and tied me up?  Had I done it myself?  Why
couldn't I remember?  And drinking out of the toilet...None of my wildest
fantasies had ever included that.  I liked feet, and apparently bondage, but
that was beyond me...

	I got dressed and went into the living room.  As soon as I was clear of
the bathroom doorway, Sharon pushed past me, flashing me a meek smile as our
eyes met, and shut herself in the other room.  Steve was on the sofa sipping
coffee and would not meet my gaze as I walked past and poured myself a cup.  I
sat down beside him, not knowing what to say, but he finally broke the silence.

	"I called in sick for you today, and late for me.  I have to go in, but
I think you need a day off to get your head straight.  Shary's off, but she's
leaving with me so you'll have the whole day to think about what happened, and
whether or not you want to keep living here."

	"Steve..." I stuttered.  "I do.  I want to live here.  Hell, I can't
afford anyplace else.  I don't know what happened last night.  My mind's a
blank."

	"Whatever."  He got up and went to the kitchen as Sharon came out of the
bathroom carrying her clothes from last night.  She was back in the more
familiar faded denims and half-tee shirt, dropping her moccasin boots in front
of the couch as she stuffed her dirty clothes back into her backpack.  I watched
as she stretched and bent, stuffing and sealing her bag, then tried not to stare
as she slid the soft leather of her boots over her feet and up her legs.  She
seemed to take forever, holding her leg aloft as she tugged at the fringes at
the top of her boot, twirling her foot until it settled into the worn sole of
the moccasin.  She caught me watching from the corner of my eye and smiled
coyly.

	"You about ready?"  Steve's voice broke the moment, and I felt my face
flush red.  Sharon jumped right up, smoothing her jeans over her ass right in
front of me before strolling towards the front door, her backpack slung over one
shoulder.  Steve gave me a look, then headed for the door as well, shaking his
head.  I heard Sharon call out a quick goodbye, then the door slammed shut and
locked, the automatic dead bolt falling into place with a solid click.

	I finished my coffee, thinking, but after several minutes still did not
have a clue as to what had happened the night before.  In the end I gave up, my
head pounding from thinking so hard, and started in on my chores.

	I called them chores, but as I said, it was my responsibility to keep
the apartment in shape.  More so now, as I was on Steve's black list.  I knew
that with a phone call he could have me homeless and jobless if he so chose.  I
had to stay on his good side now, more than ever.  I cleaned the coffeepot, and
did the dishes from their breakfast to start, then wiped down the kitchen.  It
was not too bad.

	Steve's bedroom was another matter.  His clothes were strewn about the
room again, the bed was un-made and there was a big stain on the sheets.  The
whole room smelled of sex.  I stripped the sheets and gathered all the clothes
into a pillowcase before spraying the bed with air freshener and making the bed
up.  I thought about vacuuming, but in the end I was on my knees on the carpet
picking the bigger bits of dirt off the floor as it was not too dirty yet.

	The living room was fine, so I soon found myself in the bathroom.  I
scrubbed out the toilet and tub and wiped down the shower curtains.  I changed
the towels and wash rags, then flung open the window to let in some air.  I
stuffed the dirty laundry all together and set the load by the door for later,
then gave the rooms a final quick glance.  It looked good, and decided to reward
myself with a cigarette.

	I sat on the toilet and lit up, enjoying my first cigarette of the day. 
It tasted great, and I leaned back to savor the flavor.  Glancing out the
window, I saw the girls working in the cleaners across the way.  I watched for
awhile, ducking out of sight when it seemed they might see me.  I wondered just
how sick I really was; a voyeur, watching girls work in a laundry for a quick
thrill.  It seemed that it was not outside the realm of possibility that I might
tie myself up in a lustful stupor.

	I spied something from the corner of my eye.  At first I thought it was
a wadded up wash cloth, but as I picked it up it unrolled and I saw that it was
a sock.  A dirty white sock that had to belong to Sharon.  It had been in her
boots...on her feet...

	I stared at the sock, looking intently at it as I turned it slowly from
side to side.  It was small and soft.  The sole was dark with dirt and I could
see the imprint of her toes and heel in the material.  I brought it to my nose. 
It stank, beautifully.  I inhaled the scent of her foot odor, the lingering
fragrance of the leather of her boots, the soft smell of her soaps.  It was
wonderful...

	I heard laughter and jerked upright.  My penis was limp in one hand,
Sharon's sock in the other up at my nose.  There was a puddle on the floor at my
feet.  I glanced about nervously and out the window, across the courtyard I saw
Crazy, Sexy, and Cool huddled at the window of the laundry staring up at me and
laughing.  I slammed the window shut, my skin burning with embarrassment and
wiped up my mess with a wad of tissue.  I was stuffing Sharon's sock into the
laundry bag when I heard the telephone ring.  I scrambled to answer it...

PART 4

	I woke up on my back, laying on my arms.  I tried to move, but once
again my hands were bound behind my back.  I moaned, and realized that I was
gagged as well; something stuffed into my mouth and my face plastered with
silver duct tape.  I imagined that it was probably Sharon's sock packed into my
mouth.  I tried to stand but couldn't.  I looked down my body and saw that my
knees were bound in white nylon rope, as were my ankles.  I was naked again as
well.

	I was not in the apartment this time, and it took me some time to
realize that I was in the laundry room of my building.  I had been bound and
gagged and stuffed behind the row of dryers that dominated one wall of the
basement room.  I struggled to sit up, and screamed into my gag as I leaned
against one of the machines.  They were not running, but were still hot from
recent use.

	I looked around, trying to get my bearings and hoping to spot something
that I might use to cut myself free.  There was nothing, of course.  My captor,
whoever had thought up this cruel joke, had removed anything I might use to free
myself.  I glanced up and about and saw that by sitting up I had put myself on
display in the back windows of the room.  My eyes went wide as I saw the mocking
faces of Crazy, Sexy and Cool staring at me again from the laundry across the
way.  They broke up laughing as I slumped against the wall in humiliation.  I
would get no help from them, but how had they known I was there?

	My heart almost stopped as I heard a slamming thump; the sound of one of
the washer lids shutting, followed by the roar of water as it came to life.  I
was not alone.  I rolled onto my stomach and wormed my way to the end of the row
of dryers that I was hidden behind, hoping to spot a friend.  I sagged in
defeat.

	There was a woman loading her dirty clothes into the washers.  She was
Asian, and cute, but I did not recognize her.  I also did not have the nerve to
try and get her attention in order for her to set me free.  I lay there, bound
and gagged on the dirty floor, watching her as she shuffled about, her
flip-flops driving me crazy as they slapped the floor and the soles of her feet
as she walked.  I felt my erection growing underneath me, and wondered how this
could be turning me on.

	Before too long she slid her final rack of quarters into the last
machine, gathered her laundry basket and detergent, then sashayed out the door. 
I could just hear her thong-sandals slapping as she walked down the hall to the
elevator and too late I cried out.  She did not hear me over the roar of water
as far away as she was.  I started to cry.

	I had a choice now.  Wait as I was until my neighbor returned and hope
that she would not be too freaked out at seeing me as I was to free me.  Or I
could try to make my way back to my apartment, bound and gagged and naked, and
hope that I did not meet anyone along the way.  A third choice, I realized, was
to make my way to the garbage room that was just beyond the laundry room.  There
would be something sharp there to cut my bonds.  That seemed my best bet.

	I crawled out from behind the dryers, sweating and covered in dust.  I
felt miserable as I leaned up against the washing machines, trying to inch my
way up into a standing position.  I realized that I was woefully out of shape,
as it took me several attempts to get my feet under me and up onto my legs.  I
was trying to find my balance as I heard the elevator doors open, the clack of
heels on the concrete down the hall.

	I saw someone pass, a mane of blonde hair and a flash of gray skirt.  A
woman went past the door into the garbage room, and as soon as she was out of
sight I found myself hopping frantically, silently, trying to hide from her
view.  I heard her heels clacking on the floor again as I pressed my body
against the blind wall, receding down the hallway.  I heard the elevator's outer
door slam shut, and a second later sighed in relief as the motors whirred and
groaned to life.

	I was trembling in fear.  I wanted help, but my want was far outbalanced
by my fear of humiliation at being caught as I was; naked, bound, gagged...

	I hopped out into the hallway, out of the laundry room and into the
garbage room.  I could not believe my luck.  The garbage cans were empty save
for the bag that had just been dropped by my neighbor.  Likewise, the recycle
bins were empty and clean.  Even the area for used papers had been swept and
scrubbed.  I cursed into my gag, wondering at the odds that the building
superintendent would clean extra well today of all days.  I sagged against the
wall and stared down into the one garbage can with a bit of garbage in it.

	The bag within had burst open and I saw that there was nothing but
useless garbage within; some old bills, an empty milk carton and cereal box and
some containers of half eaten Chinese take out.  I hung my head in despair. 
Nothing sharp, or even dull that I might use to cut my bonds.

	I screwed up my courage and started hopping down the hall towards the
elevator.  I would have to take my chances and try to make it back to my
apartment.  I thought briefly of hopping my way all the way down the hall to the
Super's apartment, but once again lost my nerve.  I was not yet ready to admit
defeat and ask for help.

	I thumped up against the elevator door and wiggled about until I could
push the button with my elbow.  It was harder to do than I would have imagined,
but eventually I heard the rumble of the closing doors from some floor up above
and the familiar groan of the elevator as it started its descent.  It was a long
time coming.

	I spent the waiting time adjusting my weight and getting a grip on the
outer door handle.  When the car finally arrived, I was ready and I flung open
the outer door and literally fell into the elevator.  I slammed against the back
wall of the car and slid to the dirty tiled floor, cursing at my own clumsiness. 
I had just started to inch my way up the wall in order to push the button to my
floor when the door rattled shut and the elevator began to rise.

	I panicked.  I struggled to get my feet under me again and saw the light
of the first floor as we passed.  I leaned against the button panel and rammed
my fingers into my floor's button...too late.  The elevator rumbled past my
floor on its way up into the building.  I was screwed, having to ride along,
about to be at the mercy of whoever was waiting for the car on the upper floor. 
I started hitting buttons indiscriminately, but my luck was holding to bad.  The
car did not slow until it reached the sixth floor.

	The inner door slid open as I shrank back into the corner of the car. 
My only hope was that whoever was about to get on was someone I knew who might
free me, or maybe someone I did not know that would take pity on me.  My worst
scenario had me being dragged back to some man's apartment and locked away as
his sex slave.  I closed my eyes, trying to will myself invisible and hoped for
the best as the outer door swung open.

	"C'mon babies..."

	I heard a woman's voice followed by the clatter of scrabbling nails on
the hard tile floor of the car.  There was a shuffling of feet as the door
slammed shut and the inner door slid too.  Then I heard the growls...and the
gasp...

	"Oh my god!"

	I did not recognize the voice at first, but when I opened my eyes, I
recognized the dogs.  I was staring at two snarling Dobermans, big, healthy
creatures that were owned by a woman that I saw almost every morning on my way
to work.  I swallowed, looking past the dogs and saw her feet in orange slide
sandals.  Slowly I followed her legs up past her wide hips and breasts to her
face.  She was an older woman, in her fifties, with short gray hair and a
usually pleasant smile.  Now her face was twisted in shock hidden only slightly
behind her sunglasses as she stared down at me.  She struggled to control her
dogs that sounded like they wanted to rip me apart.

	"Sit!" she ordered, and I did, as did the dogs.  She stepped forward
around the animals as the elevator began to move down.  She towered over me, the
look of shock slowly diminishing as she took in my naked, helpless form.  She
shook her head in confusion as the car stopped at the Fifth floor, then we both
sighed as no one got on and the car started down again.  To my surprise, she hit
the 'stop' button and the car sputtered to a halt just above the Fourth Floor.

	She leaned forward and ripped the tape from my lips without a bit of
sympathy.  I screamed at the sudden pain, then when I could, worked the packing
from my mouth and spit it onto the floor.  As I had suspected, it was Sharon's
sock.

	"What the hell is going on?" I heard her ask as I worked my jaw open and
closed.  I choked as I tried to talk, and looked up at her pleadingly.  Oddly,
my humiliation was so great that I could not keep looking at her face and I
found my gaze once again locked on her feet.  I lowered my head and begged,
hoping that she would have more pity for me than Steve had had.

	"Please...Someone tied me up as a joke.  I can't get free.  Please untie
me."

	"A joke..." she chuckled, and I knew that I was in trouble.  "It doesn't
seem very funny to me."  I could hear the laughter in her voice, however, and
knew she was enjoying my situation.  "Why'd they do this to you?"

	"It was just a bad joke." I repeated, lying.  "I got drunk, and my
friends stripped me and tied me up in the laundry room and left me there."  I
tried to look at her face again, to plead with her, but I could not look her in
the eyes.

	"I see.  So I should take you back to the laundry room then, I suppose. 
I hate to spoil other people's fun."  She sniggered, directing her dogs with
their leashes to sit on either side of me.  I was trembling as one of the beasts
started nosing about my crotch, and I was sweating with the heat and my fear. 
It was getting warm and close in the stalled car.  "Moose seems to like you..."
she giggled.  I swallowed and pressed back into the corner, wishing the dog
would get away.

	"Please..." I whined.  "Just untie me.  I wanna go home.  I'll do
anything.  Just let me go."  I could feel her staring at me, and I saw her feet
shuffling as she wondered what to do.  I could not believe that there was any
real choice.  She had to release me.  Moose continued to sniff at me until she
jerked on his choke collar, telling him to heel.  I could see that he was
sporting a raging hard on as he reared back on his leash.  I licked my lips as
she stepped forward and bent down, picking up the filthy sock I had spat out. 
She held it in her hand considering it, considering me.

	"So no one knows that you're tied up except your 'friends', and they
think you're in the laundry room?"  I nodded, agreeing with her summation.  "No
one knows where you are, but me?"  I shook my head, agreeing again.

	She grabbed my nose and jerked my head roughly back.  "Open!" she
ordered, and I did, realizing that I would soon run out of air if I did not
comply.  She stuffed the sock back into my mouth, shoving it back into my throat
with a finger, then pressed the duct tape over my face again.  I moaned into my
gag, begging her to stop, but she ignored me as she undid the buckle on the
collar of the bigger dog.

	The woman stepped up against me and pressed me into the wall with the
weight of her leg, resting a sandaled foot on my thigh.  I could feel the grit
on the sole of her shoe rubbing into my bare skin as she leaned in and attached
the choke collar and leash about my neck.  She gave it a sharp yank, that caused
me to cry out, then she stepped off of my leg and unhooked the leash from
Moose's collar, holding it by the clasp.  "Moose, Rocko...Guard!" she commanded,
and both dogs leapt to their feet and snarled at me menacingly.  I was terrified
and felt my bladder suddenly emptying.  The woman stepped quickly away, laughing
at my humiliation.  "Bad boy..." she chuckled and swatted the free leash across
my exposed thigh.  I yelped in pain, the gag barely stifling my cry.

	Still chuckling, the woman pushed the 'door open' button, which opened
the inner door of the elevator.  She then hit the button for the Sixth Floor
followed immediately by the 'door close' button, and in seconds we were all on
our way up again.  Two quick floors later and the door opened and she let the
dogs out, directing them down the hall towards her apartment.  She stepped into
the doorway so that it would not close and gave my leash a yank.  I choked as
the collar tightened about my throat, but quickly got the hint.

	"Heel." She commanded, and I fell forward at her feet and began worming
my way down the hall following the path of the dogs.  "I'm sorry..." she said as
she walked me down the hall, occasionally swatting me with the other leash to
keep me moving.  "It's just been so long.  My husband died over ten years ago,
and the dogs just aren't enough."  I moaned as I realized what she was saying,
then yelped as she whipped me again.  I was praying for some door to open and
someone to put an end to this, but my bad luck was holding true.  I stared at
her foot as she finally stopped before a door and felt one of the dogs probing
my ass.

	"Seeing you tied up like this," she continued as she let the dogs in
then jerked me inside and locked the door, "well, I just can't believe that
someone could tie you up without you wanting it.  I think maybe you were playing
some kinky game, and then maybe your friend played a joke on you and abandoned
you in the basement."  She shrugged, "Their tough luck...and yours."  She
whipped me over to an empty spot on the floor in front of a chair then strolled
off to her kitchen.  One dog followed her faithfully, but the other, Moose I
think, was on me again, sniffing at my crotch and butt.  I squirmed, trying to
get away from his cold nose and tongue, but he followed me relentlessly.

	"Moose!  Sit!"

	The woman was back, the leash looped about her arm, a beer in one hand
and a Ziploc baggie in the other.  She stepped over me and plopped down in the
chair, planting her feet in my back as though I were a footstool.  I tried to
glance up and saw her scratching the dog behind the ear.

	"Easy boy...Mama first..."  I moaned, thumping my forehead against the
floor.  I had thought my worst scenario would be a man taking me to his
apartment.  I was wrong.

	I heard the beer open, then heard her take a long drink.  I realized
just how thirsty I was.  "Roll over." I heard her say, then felt her foot as she
prodded me along.  It took a bit of effort, but at her encouragement I was soon
on my back with her feet resting on my chest.  She leaned over and dug a
fingernail under the duct tape, ripping it off, causing me to yelp once again. 
She then snagged the sock in my mouth and pulled it free.

	"You said you'd do anything, so we'll see.  You do what I tell you, and
I'll let you go."  I nodded, still not able to talk, and she slid one sandaled
foot under my face while pressing down on my cheek with the other until my lips
were pressed against the leather of her shoe.  Her feet were dirty, almost gray
from the floor, and her shoes were old and seemed to smell of urine.  I had
forgotten about my accident in the elevator, but she had not.

	"You got my shoes wet earlier.  Clean them.  Lick!"  She giggled as she
slapped the stiff nylon leash across my ass and I started to lick.  I was right
in that her feet were filthy.  She must walk around in bare feet most of the
day.  Oddly though, they were smooth as well, I would eventually find out, as
she must use lotion on them regularly.  Her sandals however were gritty and
worn, and it took some time to first lick the straps to satisfaction, and then
the soles of both shoes.  My mouth was dry, and I felt gravel crunching in my
teeth as I tried to work up saliva when she was finally satisfied.

	"Please..." I begged, "water..."

	"Sure, doggy.  Water's in the kitchen.  Help yourself."

	She smiled down at me as I craned my neck to stare at the kitchen
doorway over ten feet away.  I moaned in frustration, but started worming my way
towards the door much to her delight.  The dogs yelped and barked, nipping at me
and pacing me every inch of the way.  I finally made it though, and was craning
my neck again, wondering how I was going to get to the faucet when I heard her
call out...

	"The bowls are by the garbage can, doggy."

	I stared at the three dog dishes lined up on a mat beside the garbage
can.  I whimpered as I wormed my way closer, but hesitated only for a moment
before lapping at the little bit of water in the dog's water dish.  It was rank
and warm, but I drank it dry, then lay there licking the bottom of the bowl
until I heard her call me back.

	She was waiting with her bare feet stuck out, crossed at the ankles as I
wormed my way back across the floor.  I kept telling myself that I had to do
this if I wanted to be freed, and it was utterly humiliating, but I also found
that I wanted to do it.  I wanted to lick this older woman's dirty feet clean. 
I wanted to debase myself before her, to feel the humiliating burn of
embarrassment.  I seemed to crave it, and with every lap of my tongue, I was
wanting more.  My head was spinning with confusion, conflicting emotions.  I
wanted it to end, but I could not wait for her next command.  I licked between
her toes, sucking each to hear her moan for more.  I lapped at the tops of her
feet and ankles, and when she pressed the filthy soles of her feet in my face, I
licked all the harder.

	Finally she kicked me away.  I slumped to the floor at her feet,
exhausted, but I chanced a glance up and saw for the split second that my shame
would allow that she was breathing hard as well and soaked in sweat.  Her hand
was down the front of her shorts and I could see her fingers working
frantically.  She spotted me watching and gave me a sharp kick, which forced my
gaze to the floor again.

	"God..." she moaned, out of breath, "You have a hot tongue."  I felt her
jerk on my leash then and I choked and gasped as I struggled up onto my knees. 
She looped the cord about her fist until I was close enough, then grabbed an ear
with her free hand and pulled my head down into the crotch of her shorts.  They
were damp and stained already, and smelled of her sex, but she shoved my nose in
as far as it would go and commanded me to lick again.  I did...

	I rooted around, licking and rubbing against the crotch of her pants as
she directed.  I felt like a pig in heat, snuffling for air as I slurped at the
dampness in her pants.  I felt her fist lock onto my other ear and force me in
harder as she moaned and whimpered in pleasure.  I have to admit that I loved it
as the lust for her womanhood took over.  No matter the humiliation of being
bound and forced.  No thought of the fact that she was thirty years my senior
and could have been my mother.  I loved it... Craved it.

	Before long she was screaming in orgasm and pulling at her shorts.  I
bit into the material, trying to help, pulling on her pants, then her panties. 
Soon she drove my head back into her bare crotch, and I was deep into her bush. 
It was hot, and soaking wet and her pussy juices were washing over my face as
she came and came.  It smelled a bit at first, but that soon just added to the
pleasure.  One more degradation that spurred me on all the harder.

	Finally she let out one piercing scream and shoved me back.  I fell to
the floor at her feet; almost strangling on the collar as the leash unwrapped
too slowly from about her hand.  I was hot and sweaty, breathing hard, my face
drenched in her juices and my hair plastered to my head.  My tongue was sore
from stretching into her cunt, and my arms and legs were trembling in their
bonds.  She was in little better shape, only free.  She was leaning back in her
chair, her shirt soaked, her shorts gathered about her thighs.  The hair on her
bush sparkled in the light.  Her chest heaved with every breath, and I half
worried she might have a heart attack until she glanced down at me with an evil,
satisfied grin.  She stretched out a leg and ran her foot over my bound, naked
body, cooing softly...

	"Good boy...Good boy..."

PART 5

	After a short rest, the woman got up and slipped her feet back into her
sandals, then stepped over me and left the room.  While she was gone I tried to
regain some composure and began working at my bonds again.  When she left, she
apparently took my lust with her and now all I wanted was for this whole sick
ordeal to be over and to be free again.  I groped at the knots of the ropes
binding my wrists, but they were too tight and just out of reach.  My fingertips
would just brush the knots but I could not get a grip to work with.  Of course,
as I was squirming and moaning for release, the dogs came back over and started
nosing about again.

	Both dogs were sporting huge erections as they padded about my helpless
body, their red members long and thick and dangling from their sheathes.  One of
them, Moose I think, began sniffing at the crack of my ass again while the other
began licking at the sweat and juices drying on my face.  I told them to stop,
but they ignored me, happily going about their business with tails wagging.

	I had just gotten the idea to try and work at the ropes on my knees and
ankles thinking that if I could walk, I could at least run away, when I heard
the slap of the woman's sandals on the hardwood floor as she came back into the
room.  I turned to watch her approach through the dog's legs and saw that she
had washed up and changed her clothes; a new pair of shorts and a summer tank
top that made her breasts seem large.  Her legs were a little thick, but looked
good to me, tanned and muscular as she walked.  Her whole body seemed to glow as
she gave me a dazzling smile.  I saw that she was carrying another beer bottle
and a digital camera.

	She set the beer down on the table next to her chair then picked up the
remote for the television and turned it on, raising the volume.  She then
started strolling about me, and before long I heard the whir of the camera as
she began taking photos.

	"Your name is Bill Higgins, right?" she asked, snapping another picture. 
I closed my eyes and nodded.  "Speak up, Bill.  I'm recording this.  My son got
me this camera for Christmas a couple years ago.  It's top of the
line...digital.  I can take about twenty-four pictures on a floppy disk and slip
it right into the floppy drive of my computer and the pictures come right up. 
It also records audio as well on a separate disk, so when I ask you something, I
want you to answer loud and clear...okay?"

	"Yes, Ma'am."  She stopped circling me and stood by my head, snapping
another picture.

	"Good boy.  Now, what's your name?"

	"My name's Bill Higgins..." (click/whirrrr)

	"Tell me where you live, Bill."  I did. (Click/whirrrr)

	"Tell me your phone number."  I told her. (Click/whirrrr)

	I told her things about my life; my job, my roommate, my family.  I
didn't want to.  It was humiliating, but something in my head made me want to
tell her everything.  She recorded it all on film and audio for posterity.

	She placed a foot on my neck and applied a bit of pressure, just enough
to make it hard to breathe, causing me to squirm.  "Do you like that, Bill?" she
asked, and I grunted out that I did.  She took another picture, then paused for
a moment exchanging floppy disks in her camera.  In seconds she was ready for
more.

	"Do you like being tied up, Bill?  Are you into bondage?" she asked...

	"Yes, Ma'am." I wanted to say 'no', but for some reason it came out
wrong. (click/whirrrr)

	"I found you tied up, Bill.  Is that right?"

	"Yes, Ma'am." (click/whirrrr)

	"So this is all of your own accord, right?  You wanted to be tied up
like this?"

	"Yes, Ma'am." (click/whirrrr)

	"And when I found you, naked, bound and gagged in the elevator, you were
hoping that someone would find you and keep you tied up, right?  Kidnap you
maybe... even torture you?"  I answered yes to every question.  "Have you done
that before?... Do you get tied up often?... Tell me how you've been tied up
before..." She seemed to ask all the right questions that would get an answer
she wanted.  She never asked who had tied me up, or anything that I could not
answer, and try as I might, I could not hold back the truth.  She slid her foot
up onto my face-

	"What about feet, Bill?  Do you like feet?" She pressed down on my cheek
and snapped another picture while I answered affirmative, then changed disks
again.  By what she had said before, she now had almost fifty pictures of me.

	"It's not just the feet though, is it?  You like shoes too, don't you,
Bill?"

	"Yes, Ma'am." (click/whirrrr)

	"Do you like my feet and shoes, Bill?"

	"Yes, Ma'am" (click/whirrrr)

	"How much?"

	"Very much..." (click/whirrrr)

	"Show me, Bill.  Show me how much you like my pretty feet and shoes." 
She adjusted her stance, rolling my head so I was facing up, then placing her
foot so the front half of her sandal was over my mouth.  She held the camera,
getting me in focus again... "Kiss the sole of my shoe, Bill."  I did, and she
took another picture.

	"Again..." (click/whirrrr)

	"Again..." (click/whirrrr)

	"Lick it, Bill.  Lick the sole of my sandal clean."  I did, while she
snapped pictures.  It wasn't really dirty, as I had already cleaned it not too
long ago, but this was all for show.  "That's it, Bill...Keep licking...Show me
some tongue...Harder!  Let me hear it...That's it..."

	"How does it make you feel, Bill..." she asked, "licking the sole of my
shoe.  The lowest part of my body.  The part I walk on in the filth and grime of
the streets.  God knows what I step in, Bill.  Dirt and mud...old gum and spit. 
I have dogs, Bill, and I've probably even accidentally stepped in their shit and
urine.  Hell, I stepped in yours before, in the elevator when you peed.  Doesn't
that bother you, Bill?"  I looked up at her with pleading eyes as I licked the
sole of her sandal for all I was worth and saw her depress the camera button
again.

	"Nnnnuhhh..." She raised her foot a bit, and I followed with my tongue
straining to reach it.

	"What was that, Bill?"

	"No, Ma'am.  It doesn't matter.  I want to lick your shoes clean. 
Please..." She chuckled, and lowered her foot back to my lips for one final
shot.

	She stepped away then and placed the camera on the table, then took a
long swallow of beer.  She smiled wickedly as she looked down at my
helplessness, rubbing the condensation of the bottle against her forehead and
the exposed flesh of her breasts.  "Sure is hot today, eh Bill?  Not that you
seem to care though."

	She prodded my engorged penis with the toe of her sandal, laughing as it
waved at her then stopped at attention.  "You're really loving this.  And God,
can you stay hard a long time without coming."  She was right about that.  I had
been erect since waking up in the laundry room, my penis only going down
slightly now and then, but never totally limp.  Now that she pointed it out, I
thought it strange, as usually I spurted my meager load in a heartbeat.  I had
never lasted so long, and now I realized that it was starting to hurt.  My balls
were aching for release.

	She set the beer back on the table and stepped over me, one foot planted
on either side.  I wondered what she was up to, then felt her grip my arms and
help me up into a kneeling position.  She prodded me forward, slowly, waddling
me on my knees as the dogs danced about us, wondering what new game this was.  I
almost fell twice, but she steadied me until I was kneeling before a low
hassock, then pushed me forward so that I fell across it on my belly.

	"Time for something new, Bill." She walked in front of me and gathered
my trailing leash, jerking on my collar until I scooted forward so that my butt
was in the air and my head was just touching the floor.  She took the leash then
and ran it back underneath the footstool.  She pulled it taut, then grabbed for
my cock and balls and looped the end about my groin several times before tying
it off.  I could still raise my head somewhat, but it pulled on my balls when I
tried.  Satisfied with that, she moved around behind me and I felt her fingers
worrying the knots at the rope about my knees.  When that rope was removed, she
ran it across my body then under the stool, looping it first to my left arm,
then tying off the other end to my right, then again to the left.  This kept my
arms pinned down as well as drawing my elbows in close together, and kept me
from moving about from side to side on the hassock.  She went behind me again,
and almost as quickly removed the rope that bound my ankles together.  She
spread my legs apart, kicking at them until I adjusted my stance as she wanted. 
I then felt her looping the rope about my knees and fastening them tightly to
the legs of the stool.

	She circled me then, looking me over, occasionally checking the knots
she had tied and the tautness of the bonds.  Finally, as an afterthought, I felt
her shoving a pillow under my stomach.  She slapped my ass, ordering me up until
she got it into place.  This left my butt a few inches higher, and tightened the
ropes even more.

	"That should do it." She took some more photos from every angle,
circling my bound body several times.  At one point she crouched down right in
front of me and grabbed a handful of hair.  She jerked my head up until I was
crying out in pain and snapped several close-ups of my humiliation.  When she
let my head go it bounced off the floor with a loud thump.

	"Uh-oh..." she giggled in a singsong voice, as she strolled around
behind me again.

	I heard her drinking more beer, then doing something else; rattling some
plastic.  The dogs jumped right up, panting, their tongues lolling as they
licked their lips in anticipation.  I felt her slap something cold against my
ass, then began smearing it about.

	"I love my dogs, Bill.  They're like my babies now that my husband is
gone and my son has moved away.  I buy them little toys when I can.  I feed them
well, steak and liver.  They eat better than me some days."  She laughed as she
smeared whatever it was deeply into the crack of my ass.  It was cool and slimy,
and felt oddly like raw meat.  I realized then that it was a slice of liver, and
I knew what was coming next...

	"Nooo..." I whined.  "Please..."

	"Patience, Bill.  I know you're eager, but we have to get it right." 
She came around by my head and rubbed the disgusting meat over my face, smearing
me with its blood and smell.  I gagged, wanting to vomit, but she ignored me,
and ordered me to open my mouth.  I did as I was told, no hesitation.  She slid
the slice of liver in halfway and told me to bite down, ordering me to hold it
there.

	The dogs were whining now, almost frantic as they pranced around me. 
She had to shoo them away as she took more pictures of my face.  Finally, as she
backed away, the bigger of the two started nuzzling me in the ass, licking at
the blood and juices the woman had smeared there.  She laughed, recording it all
as the other came up to my face and started licking it.

	"Rocko's going to want that meat, Bill.  Don't you let him have it
though.  Hang onto it until I say otherwise.  If you give it up, I'll have to
punish you."  As if on cue, Rocko bit into the liver that was hanging out of my
mouth and started pulling on it, trying to take it away.  He was growling,
trying to dominate me and force me to let go, but I bit down all the harder,
fearing reprisal.  The lady laughed as she took pictures of our little game of
tug-o-war.

	Meanwhile, Moose's tongue was probing ever deeper into my ass.  With my
legs spread so wide, his long tongue could dive in far beyond the depth of the
liver's residue.  I shivered with every lap, and found it ever harder to
concentrate on biting down on the meat in my mouth.  My erection was throbbing
with every thrust of his tongue, but it would not explode.  I was starting to
sweat again, in excitement and frustration and fear of what I knew would soon
happen, as well as the heat in the apartment.  The room seemed to exude sex and
tension, and all the while I could hear the (click/whirrrr) of the camera in the
background.

	I moaned in frustration as Moose's tongue slid out of my ass and
disappeared.  I missed the feeling of its soft, probing warmth.  I blushed in
shame, realizing that I had been enjoying having a dog lick at my butt.  A
second later I screamed in shock and panic as I felt his weight fall across my
back.  His front paws settled on either side of me on the hassock, his claws
digging into the fabric while his rear legs clamped down alongside my hips.  I
felt his stiff member slapping up against my ass, his precum dripping onto my
legs.  He whined and growled in frustration, not being able to find my 'pussy'.

	When I had cried out, I of course lost my battle with Rocko as he jerked
the meat from my mouth.  I heard the lady tsk-ing as she snapped more photos of
Moose mounting my ass.

	"Too bad, Bill.  That'll cost you.  Help Moose out and guide him in
while I find something else for you to suck on.  This'll hurt, and I don't want
you screaming and bothering my neighbors."

	Without thinking about what I was doing I reached back with my fingers
and grabbed onto Moose's dick.  It was hot and pulsing, and he snarled until he
figured out what I was doing.  My butt was wet from the liver juice and his
licking, and spread so wide that when the head of his penis hit my clenched bud
it thrust right in with hardly an effort.  I felt Moose's hind legs clamp down
on my hips as he scrabbled for better purchase.  When he was satisfied I felt
his weight on my back, pinning my arms as he began thrusting ever deeper into my
bunghole.  I moaned with every push as he surged deeper inside my body, and I
heard the woman urging us on...

	"Help him, Bill.  Don't just lay there like a man.  Be his bitch. 
Stroke his balls."  I did as she commanded, and Moose whimpered and shoved all
the harder.  Through my tears (she was right- it did hurt), I saw Rocko swallow
down the last bite of liver, then trot up to my head for more.

	The woman grabbed Rocko by the collar and stood him up with his front
paws digging into my shoulders and my head pressing against his belly.  She
ordered him to stay, then took his pulsing red cock gingerly in her fingers and
pressed the head up against my lips.  She ordered me to open up, which I did
readily with Moose's next thrust, and she guided Rocko's member into my mouth.

	"Suck, Bill." She ordered me without batting her eyes and I did as she
commanded without question.  Rocko, sensing the coming treat adjusted his stance
and dug his claws in to hold me down.  I was now pinned and at the mercy of both
dogs as they had their way with me.  The lady had made me their bitch.

	I could not believe that Moose could get any bigger, but he did.  His
dick had to be six inches around and it was so far up my ass that I could almost
taste it.  I was crying as I sucked on Rocko's cock that was only slightly
smaller.  Then suddenly I felt Moose spewing inside of me.  His hot jism filled
my anus and kept going.  I felt his cum drooling down my legs as he thrust again
and again.  As he settled down, Rocko began to fill my mouth with his own
ejaculation.  I was whining and gagging as the Doberman thrust against my mouth,
and somewhere in the background I heard the woman telling me to swallow it.  My
own penis felt as though it were on fire, and I heard the woman telling me to
cum.  I did, spewing buckets across the hardwood floor under the hassock.  I
seemed to go on forever, but eventually I sagged against the stool, totally
spent.

	I lay there sobbing, gagging on dog jism as Rocko pulled out of my mouth
and settled onto the floor to lick himself.  I expected Moose to do the same,
but he settled on my back, fidgeting as I felt his member expanding again.  The
lady changed disks again as she explained-

	"Moose will be there for awhile.  Dogs develop a knot during sex, and it
takes some time for the swelling to go down.  I suggest you settle in and don't
move too much, as you'll just make him mad if you try to get away.  You're his
bitch now, Bill.  Enjoy it."  I started to cry under my doggy-master's weight,
and he just growled, ordering me to be still.  I lay there, locked in position
for some time as the woman snapped more pictures of my degradation, then went
back to the kitchen.

	She returned with two bowls of water for the dogs, and another slice of
liver for Moose, as well as another beer for herself.  She settled into her
chair and just waited, watching television until Moose finally slipped out of me
and padded away, satisfied.  She tossed him his liver, which he took to the
corner and quickly devoured before settling in for a rest.  I half expected him
to light up a cigarette.  The woman then got up and untied me from the stool
before kicking me to the floor.  Quietly she retied my ankles in a hobble,
leaving them about six inches apart, then removed my collar and leash.  She
stood up and towered over me...

	"I'd let Rocko have a turn with you too, Bill, but by rights you belong
to Moose now.  I wouldn't want them fighting over you.  Maybe next time." I
whimpered, fear and shame rushing through me.  "Oh yes, Bill.  There will be a
next time.  I'll be calling you soon to come up and play.  And if you don't,
I'll be sending invitations to all the people you named before; your job, your
friends and family.  I'm going to set up a club on a server, Bill, though you
won't know which one.  I'm going to post all the pictures I took today, and if
you don't do as I say in the future, I'm going to invite everyone you know to
join my club and see your photos.  And they'll hear you say how all of it was
your idea with the recordings you gave me.  The Internet is a wonderful thing,
Bill.  It makes blackmail so easy, and cheap too."  I moaned as she laughed,
then stopped as I felt her foot kicking against my abused butt.

	"You've made a mess though..." she said as she moved the hassock out of
the way.  I rolled over and saw the puddle of my jism on the floor, along with
Moose and Rocko's overflow that I could not hold.  "Clean up that mess, and I'll
let you go."  I did as she ordered, humiliated again as I began licking up the
mixture of jism from the two dogs and myself.  She took a few more photos, then
left me alone again as she left the room.

	I finished and collapsed on the floor before she returned.  I was
totally exhausted from my ordeal, but my penis was starting to harden again.  I
stared at the dogs.  Rocko was fast asleep in one corner, and Moose was watching
me from another.  He seemed to have a satisfied smile on his dog face as he
licked his lips and nose with his long tongue.  When the lady returned I looked
up at her, hoping that she would finally untie me so that I could go home.

	Instead, she produced Sharon's sock again and ordered me to open my
mouth.  I did, but before I could protest she was stuffing the sock in.  She
then produced her own roll of duct tape and proceeded to wrap one long strip all
the way around my head with several loops.  When she finally ripped it free, I
had five layers sealing the sock in my mouth.  She hauled me to my feet...

	"Mmmmnnn..." I moaned, but she ignored me as she herded me towards the
door.  She opened the door of her apartment and pushed me out into the hall.  I
staggered up against the far wall, trying not to fall as my ankles were hobbled. 
She laughed as I moaned at her.

	"You're free to go.  I kept my part of the deal, Bill.  I didn't say a
word about untying you."  She laughed as she shut the door and I began to cry as
I heard her locks sliding into place.  I stared at my surroundings; a hallway
exactly like my own but four floors higher.  I screwed up my courage and
staggered towards the stairs...

PART 6

	Hobbled as I was, it took some time to make my way down the stairs. 
Still, I figured I was better off trying to walk down than to take my chances
with the elevator and to be at the mercy of whoever got on.  I had learned my
lesson there.  I did not run into trouble until I was almost home...

	I had just stepped onto the third floor when I heard a door slam
somewhere up above.  I expected whomever it was to take the elevator, but a
voice whispered down proclaiming the elevator to be too slow and they should
take the stairs.  Within seconds I heard at least two sets of feet pounding down
the stairs.

	As quickly as I could, I shuffled over into the shadows of the corner
and crouched down against the wall, trying to hide.  I shivered in terror as the
footsteps grew louder, closer.  I hoped that I would not be spotted, so close to
my goal, or that no one would open their door near me and catch me as well.  I
trembled, mewling into my stifling gag.

	Suddenly I saw them, and I cowered even deeper into the shadows.  A man
and a woman appeared from the stairwell, and just as quickly disappeared as they
turned the corner and started down the next flight of stairs.  I sighed in
relief as I heard their footsteps receding in the distance, but I did not move
until I heard the lobby door open and slam shut.  Slowly I stood, then
cautiously staggered my way back to the stairs and started down again.

	I reached my floor and leaned against the wall.  I listened and looked
for any sign of anyone who might stop me so close to my goal.  The building was
silent however, so I screwed up my courage and hobbled my way out into the hall. 
I soon reached my door, and my heart sank...

	It was locked, of course, and I wondered how I thought that it would not
be.  Still I tried the knob and foolishly stared down at my naked, bound body,
bereft of keys.  I sagged against the door and started to cry, a muffled,
despairing sound coming from my gag.  I was so close...

	I jumped at the sound of the lobby door shutting and trembled in fear as
I heard the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs.  I looked about, trying to
find somewhere to hide, but I was too close to the nearer of the two stairways
that the person was using, and too far from the other and the safety of where
the hallway turned.  I was trapped out in the open, nowhere to go-

	"Oh god..."

	I looked up and saw Sharon staring at me in disbelief.  Her mouth was
wide open in shock as she looked me up and down, and I cowered before her,
remembering the things Steve had said.

	"Billy...What happened?  What have you been doing?  Who did this to you? 
You look like hell..."  She fired questions at me rapidly, ignoring the fact
that I was gagged and could not answer.  I hung my head in shame as she stepped
closer.  I was oblivious to the fact that she held a set of keys in her hand;
keys to my building and apartment.

	"Mmmmnnn..." I said, or tried to.  "Ummn-I-eee..."

	Sharon smiled at my dilemma, then slid her key into the lock of my door. 
"C'mon..." she said, "Let's get you inside and I'll untie you."  She opened the
door and held it as I shambled past.  For some reason, I felt a sense of dread
when she shut it behind me and I heard the locks fall into place.

	I waited off to one side in the hallway for Sharon to untie me as she
had promised, but she brushed right past me after locking the door.  I watched
as she disappeared behind the flimsy curtain that separated the hall from the
living room.  I had no choice but to follow.

	Sharon was sitting on my sofa bed when I came into the living room.  She
was dressed in her usual cut-off denims and sandals, though wearing a different
shirt.  Her legs were crossed and one leg was casually kicking as she patted the
sofa next to her, indicating that I should sit down.  I did, and she pulled me
close and began to unwind the swath of duct tape that was binding my mouth.  I
spit out her sock when my mouth was free, and she giggled, turning me about as
she started to fumble at the knots binding my wrists.

	"I don't know what happened to you, but I want you to tell me
everything."  I did.  I poured out my heart to Sharon as she tried to undo the
knots binding my wrists.  She seemed to take a long time, but that was okay, as
I needed a long time to tell her every degrading act I had performed since
waking up in the basement laundry room.  I don't know why I told her the entire
story, but I did, feeling more ashamed with every word.  Sharon listened, and
really seemed to care.  The few times I was able to look at her face, I saw
nothing but pity and concern.  I was crying as I finished my tale, and she was
sobbing as well.  She gave up on my bonds and held me tightly, rubbing my
back...

	"Shhh..." she whispered.  "It's okay, Billy.  It's all right.  Let it
out.  I'm here."  I cried on her shoulder until she eased me down on the sofa,
and then I cried some more.  "Shhh...It's okay.  You need to relax.  You need to
sleep...Sleep..."  I felt my eyes sagging as she rubbed my belly...  "Sleep..."

PART 7

	I woke to darkness.  Thankfully though, this time I was on my bed, on
the sofa in the living room.  I ached, moaning as I craned my neck, trying to
get a look at the clock on the table.  1:14 A.M. its red L.E.D. letters read. 
The middle of the night.

	I sat up.  I felt clean, and I realized that I had my pajama shorts on,
what I usually wore to bed.  Sharon must have freed me, then cleaned me.  The
grit and grime of the Dog Lady's apartment was gone, the taste of feet washed
from my mouth.  The feel of the dogs gone from between my thighs.

	I looked about the room and saw that Steve's door was closed.  He must
have come home, but I slept right through it.  I figured that he and Sharon were
in his room now, totally oblivious to the perversions of me, the roommate.  I
wondered what Sharon had thought of me.  I remembered pouring my heart out to
her, but I don't really remember just what I had said to her.  I had to have
told her in full about the Dog Lady, but what else?

	I got up and staggered to the sink.  My legs were weak, and I was
half-asleep, but I got a drink of water and stumbled back to my bed, wrapping
myself in the sheet for warmth.  I had no idea what was going on, but I was
determined to find out.  I laid back onto my bed and closed my eyes.  I was out
like a light in seconds...

	In the morning when I woke, Steve had already left.  It was Saturday I
realized, and I wondered where he might have gone.  I got out of bed and
shambled to the coffee pot, where I found his note:

			Bill,

			Went to Sharon's for the day!

			See you tonight...

			Steve

	Wonderful.

	I had the whole day to myself.  The whole day to figure out what was
wrong with me...

	I looked through the cupboards for the coffee and found the container
was empty.  Even the jar of instant was down to the last grounds.  I could count
them on the spoon, flavor crystals and all.  No wonder Steve had dipped out.  I
was falling down on my job as housekeeper it seemed.  As Steve had not made a
pot, I assumed he had had none either and made my way to the bathroom.

	A shower and two cigarettes later I was feeling a bit better, but my
brain was still a little fuzzy.  I got dressed, trying to sort my problems in my
head, but could not really concentrate.  I needed my caffeine so headed for the
door, my destination: the deli.

	I lit another cigarette, not even thinking about it, as I walked to the
end of the block.  By my reckoning, I was missing some ten hours of my life,
blanked out between the last things I remembered and waking up bound, twice.  I
had no idea how I had gotten into the situations I had found myself in, but I
was reasonably certain that I had not done it to myself.  Someone had to have
tied me up.  But, who?

	I figured the Dog Lady as a logical suspect, but then I had to wonder
why?  Just for a perverted screw?  She could have just asked and I probably
would have done it in my present state.  Well, not fucking the dogs, but the
rest of it...maybe.

	But if not her, then who?  Steve?  Sharon?  Again...why?

	I shook my head, tossed my butt in the gutter and entered the deli;
still as muddled and confused as when I had left my apartment.  I had no idea
what was going on, but it was damn sure that I could not figure it out either. 
It was beyond me, at least without my morning coffee.

	The deli was all but empty as I entered; a woman whom I recognized
behind the counter and a man I did not behind the deli bar.  It was an Indian
deli, and both of them were East Indian, not that that mattered to me. I
strolled back to the back of the store, nodding at the man as I passed and
grabbed a blue can of coffee for all coffee makers.  I picked up a roll of
toilet paper as well and a box of donuts on the way back to the counter and set
the load on the Formica top.

	The woman at the register was sitting on a stool reading a pocket book
when I arrived.  It took her a moment to finish the paragraph and mark her place
before standing up to check me out, so, being a man, I took the time to look her
over.  All the women working in the deli were cute (except one chubby one)
dressed in their purple polyester smocks, tight jeans and usually tennis shoes. 
Rashi, I think was the name of this one, was no exception.  She was fairly tall,
taller than the rest, and older with darker skin and reddish-streaked black
hair.  She wore a thin wire-framed pair of glasses and several rings on most of
her fingers as well as a good number of bracelets in silver and gold.  She
seemed to rattle and jingle when she moved.  I said 'Hello', and pushed my
purchases towards her as she returned my greeting-

	"Hi-"

	I was suddenly on my knees scraping my tongue along the filthy tiles of
the deli floor in front of the counter in a desperate attempt to reach Rashi's
shoes.  I heard her squeak in surprise, but her noises were almost drowned out
by the disgusting, slurping noises that I was making and the words I was
saying...

	"Please!  Please let me kiss your feet.  Please god, I'll be your slave! 
I'll do anything...Just let me lick your shoes!"

	I was out of control.  Rather, I had no control over what I was doing. 
Something in my head just seemed to click and my legs had buckled beneath me.  I
was licking the floor, being denied actually licking her dirty sneakers, and
there was nothing more important than that at that point.  I wanted to kiss her
feet.  I wanted to humiliate myself before this woman, and all else was gone; my
dignity, my manhood, my sanity, until I had satisfied her with my degrading
performance.

	I could see her feet shuffling about under the counter and pressed my
face right up against the barrier, stretching my tongue in an effort to get at
Rashi's feet.  It did not occur to me to climb over the counter, or to go
around.  That was not in my thinking.  Thinking was not part of my thinking now. 
Only her feet...Her beautiful, sexy shoes...

	I heard myself scream as someone grabbed my collar and hauled me
struggling to my feet.  I was kicking and fighting as the guy from behind the
deli bar wrapped one arm around my neck and hooked one of my arms up behind my
back.  It hurt, but I did not seem to care.  I only had eyes for Rashi, and I
pleaded with her to let me kiss her feet.  The man slammed my head into the
counter.

	They were talking in Hindu, or Pakistani, or whatever language they
spoke.  I did not know.  I got the gist that he wanted to throw me out of the
store, so I started begging and pleading with him not to do it.  I swore that I
would do anything he asked if he just let me lick her shoes.  I promised to be
his slave, to work in the deli for free; cleaning up, scrubbing the floors,
whatever.  I promised to suck his cock...

	He slammed me to the floor of the back room and a second later I felt
his knee driving into the small of my back.  I was still gibbering, and did not
struggle as he wrapped a length of packing twine about my wrists, then stretched
it down to bind my ankles as well.  It was hot and dark and dusty in the back
room of the store, but I did not care.  I just kept on calling out for Rashi and
her feet, whining all the louder as the man stuffed a greasy rag into my mouth
and tied it off with another.  He stood back and stared down at me as he wiped
his brow of sweat.  His eyes seemed glazed with confusion...and lust.

	Rashi stepped into the back room and I immediately started to worm my
way across the floor at her feet.  She backed up in shock, and they exchanged a
few words in their native tongue again before she turned and left.  I moaned in
agony as the man squatted down in front of me and grabbed a handful of my hair. 
He slapped me until I shut up...

	"You listen to me now..." he said, a sadistic grin making his mustache
twitch.  "I don't know what you're up to, but I have two choices... I call the
police and you get locked up, or you do as I say and we have some fun."  I
moaned into my gag, straining to catch a glimpse of Rashi in the front of the
store.  The man slapped me again-

	"Those things you said.  In my home, they would be a binding...contract. 
You wish your life away, and someone takes you up on it.  But I'm not cruel..."
he smiled, "You just blow me, and I'll let you go."  He dropped to his knees and
twisted me about, reaching behind my head to undo the knot in my gag.  He
plucked the rag from my mouth and I coughed, licking my lips to regain my voice. 
He aimed my head at his crotch-

	"Please...Just let me kiss her feet...That's all I want.  I'll do
whatever you ask, just-"

	His dick slammed against my lips and pushed its way down my throat as I
tried to speak.  It wasn't huge, but it was big enough.  Rocko's was bigger. 
Still he held onto my hair and yanked me forward, grinding my head around
against my best efforts to resist.  He inched forward and I felt his zipper
against my chin.  I could smell his body odor, not quite hidden under a healthy
wash of cologne.  He smelled of unwashed balls.

	His penis swelled quickly, and I sucked.  The humiliation was intense as
I licked around the throbbing member swiftly filling my mouth.  Tears were
streaming down my face as I begged for Rashi's feet around my living, dripping
gag.  I felt it poking the back of my throat as he rammed deeper and deeper,
thrusting, trying to get off.  I felt it tremble, quivering as I stroked it with
my tongue.  What was wrong with me?

	It did not take long.  I felt the burning blast of hot jism as it
exploded against the back of my throat.  I heard the man scream as he rammed his
crotch into my face and I sucked all the harder, gagging as I tried to swallow
every drop.  I knew that if I did a good job I would get at Rashi's feet, so I
did the best I could.  It did not take long as I felt his penis slow, the
pumping becoming slower as the man spent his energy, but still I licked and
sucked for all I was worth.  Finally the man pushed me away after I had cleaned
the last drops from the head of his shriveling penis.

	He sagged back onto his ass, collapsing right in front of me onto the
dirty floor in the back room of the deli.  He was smiling, his eyes lost and far
away.  I heard Rashi calling from the front of the store, but did not know what
she was saying.  The man heard her too, and looked annoyed.

	He got up, hopping to his feet and gathered up the discarded rags of my
gag.  He stuffed one into my mouth again and knotted it in with the other once
more to stifle my whining.  He then checked my bonds and stood up, satisfied as
I had not even tried to get away.  He glanced about the room, then grabbed me by
the legs suddenly and drug me across the room.  He took me to a door in the back
wall and opened it, and I saw that it was a closet full of cleaning supplies;
brooms, a mop and bucket, dusters.  He drug me in and checked my bonds once more
before shutting the door.  I heard the latch click, then heard a bolt sliding
into place.  I was locked in...

PART 8

	I don't know how long they left me there in the dark and dirty closet. 
It felt like hours.  The entire time I could feel my own prick throbbing
underneath my bound body.  I had been so intent on pleasuring the  Indian man
that I had failed to take notice of my own need for release, but as in the
apartment of the Dog-Lady, I could tell that no matter how hard I wanted to
explode, I would get no release until my tongue touched the worn leather of
Rashi's sneakers.

	I could hear them walking about in the front of the store.  I heard
customers come and go, and occasionally they would speak in their language, no
doubt about me and what to do with me.  Twice I heard someone at the door to my
makeshift prison, but whether Rashi or the man, I did not know.  I just whined
into my gag, nosing at the crack under the door, hoping that it was her, and her
feet.

	Finally I heard the lock sliding back.  I waited expectantly as the door
opened and was disappointed to find the man standing there.  I hung my head to
the floor and moaned as he grabbed me and pulled me from the closet.  There was
another man there, and a woman as well whom I recognized from the register on
other days.  The night shift I presumed, and I wondered what they had planned
for me now.  The changing of the guard?  Would the night crew become my new
captors now, or would the first man try to take me home?  I had promised to be
his slave...to do anything, but I had not gotten to Rashi's feet yet.  Still, he
had made no promises.

	The woman giggled as the man drug me to the center of the back room. 
They were speaking in their language again, standing about me in a small circle
but I did not care.  I was busy looking for Rashi.  The first man saw my
apparent lack of interest in them and reached down to slap me.  I gave him my
attention.

	"I've decided to take you up on your offer.  You will be our slave now. 
You will scrub and dust and do whatever we say.  You will sleep in that closet,
and if you do good, you will be fed.  You will service us, and any we say.  Do
you understand?"

	I nodded, trembling in fear and burning with embarrassment.  I looked up
at my three captors and saw no mercy in their faces.  The woman was licking her
lips in anticipation.  My dick was pulsing underneath me.

	"I've had my turn..." said the first man, "and Jonni is a bit shy.  But
Pasha wants to try out your tongue."  He chuckled, and he and Jonni turned
towards the door to leave.  "Do good or we will beat the shit out of
you...slave."  They left, shutting the door to the back room behind them.  I
looked up at Pasha.

	She circled me, smiling, but I could tell she was a bit nervous.  She
was cute, a younger version of Rashi with jet-black hair and no glasses.  I
recognized her, though I had never known her name, and I knew she recognized me
as she was the woman usually at the register when I stopped in after work.  I
moaned into my gag as she knelt in front of me, folding her legs beneath her.

	She grabbed my hair and raised my head.  I whined and she slapped me. 
She seemed to like this, and liked hearing me whimper as she slapped me several
more times, grinning widely all the while.  She let my head fall to the floor
and laughed as I moaned into my gag.

	"You scared Rashi with all your crazy talk, slave-boy.  Not me.  You
don't scare me.  You were begging to be her slave, she said.  You wanted to kiss
her feet..." she sat back on her ass and slid her feet into my face, pressing
against my nose with the soles of her sneakers.  "Well, here's mine.  Kiss
them!"

	I tried to comply, and rubbed my gag against her dirty Nikes.  I
whimpered, getting no pleasure, and I guess she was disappointed as well as she
kicked me in the forehead.

	"Stupid slave!" she spat.  "Can't you do anything right?"

	"Mmmmnnn..." I said, and she leaned forward and ripped the gag from my
mouth, laughing anew at my moans.

	"Try again!  Lick!" she said, thrusting her feet at my face, and I did.

	I licked for all I was worth, enjoying the smell of the worn leather and
nylon and the slight odor of her feet underneath.  She was cleaner than the man,
I could tell, but at the time, I did not really care.  All I wanted was the
taste of her shoes on my tongue.  All I craved was the act of debasing myself
for this woman, and to do whatever she asked, hoping that she would want more. 
I could feel my cock throbbing beneath me...

	We came together.  My tongue grazed the soft, uncovered flesh of her
ankle, which seemed to make her explode in orgasm.  I don't know if it was the
control and power that she had over me, or if she could feel my tongue caressing
her feet through the material of her shoe, but she screamed in excitement.  Her
scream of ecstasy was like pulling a trigger to me and my cock exploded as well. 
I was humping the floor as seemingly gallons of semen filled my under wear.  I
became dizzy, gasping for breath as she pushed her foot against my mouth,
stretching and rocking back.  She slammed against the wall behind her and
something fell about us, shattering on the cement floor.

	I looked up at Pasha and saw her lying back, breathing hard.  I saw her
fingers lax in her pants and understood why she had orgasmed so violently.  The
men came bursting into the back room then and laughed to see us both spent and
wasted on the dirty floor.  We must have been quite a sight, she rubbing her
crotch with her feet pressed up and pushing against my face.

	The first man said something to Pasha that caused the other man to laugh
again, then they both grabbed an arm and helped her to her feet.  They stepped
over me, dragging her to another door and she stepped right on my back as they
passed, moaning in erotic bliss.  I saw that the other room was a bathroom, but
I did not really care at that point.  My mind had suddenly cleared and I was
afraid.  My lust for licking feet was gone.  I wanted out.

	I looked around my makeshift cell: the back room of the deli.  There
seemed to be sharp things everywhere; scissors and knives and box cutters, all
safely away and out of my reach on the shelves about the room.  I moaned in
frustration, rolling about in my bonds, trying to claw at the knots.  I winced
as something dug into my side.

	There was broken glass on the floor, and I remembered something breaking
as Pasha slammed against the wall earlier.  Something must have fallen.  I was
lucky that whatever it was had not shattered on my head, and luckier still that
I was now lying in broken glass.  I groped around, trying to find a piece that I
might use to cut myself free.

	I heard water running in the bathroom, heard them talking and laughing. 
The men were no doubt teasing Pasha for her outburst, as I heard her whining for
them to stop in her nasal twang.  I did not know how much time I had before they
returned, wanting more from me.  I could feel sweat, and blood, coating the
glass and making it hard to hold.  I sawed on the packing twine for all I was
worth, pulling with all my might.

	Suddenly the cord snapped and I found my hands free again.  I sighed,
wanted to cheer, but I had no time.  I spun about and started to rip the twine
from my ankles, eventually cutting it away as the knots proved too tight.  I
jumped to my feet as I heard someone yell out.  I ignored him.

	I ran through the door out into the store and saw Rashi look up from her
book in shock.  She was still sitting behind the counter, apparently oblivious
of my oral rape and captivity in the back room just a few feet away from her
stool.  Or else she just did not care.  She screamed though as I ran past, and I
tried not to look at her.  I had no idea what the sight of her feet might do to
my new resolve.

	I heard the men shouting as I pushed out the swinging door and into the
street, not even breaking stride as I ran up the street to the left, away from
my apartment.  I had no idea if they knew where I lived beyond in the general
area, and I had no desire for them to find out.  I was not in great shape, but I
was far skinnier than both of the Indian men, and apparently in better condition
as I quickly outdistanced them.  I continued running though for several blocks,
ignoring everyone until I thought it was safe to loop around and slow down.

	I was breathing hard and my hand was pulsing in pain as I cautiously
approached my apartment almost an hour after my escape.  I could see the deli on
the corner about one hundred feet away, but I did not see any of the workers,
and thankfully, no police.  Hopefully they would stay silent.  I knew I was
going to, and I would never darken their doorway again.  Hell, I would have to
take a new route home from work now, and find a new deli I liked.  I sighed,
leaning against the wall exhausted and hung my head in shame...

	What had I done?  What was happening to me?

	I stared down at the huge wet stain on the front of my jeans and sighed
again.  I made my way into the building, ignoring the doorman's greeting and
rushing to my apartment before anything else happened to me.  I just wanted to
hide...

PART 9

	I stayed inside for the remainder of the day and it thankfully passed
uneventfully.  I sat on my sofa bed, racking my brain, trying to understand what
was happening to me for the most part.  It was beyond me though.  I could not
understand how I was being tied up and moved.  I could not figure out why I was
dropping to my knees, begging to kiss the feet of women that were practically
strangers, or letting men fuck me in the mouth.  I could not understand my
sudden craving for feet, or my enjoyment of being duked up the ass by a dog.  It
was all so humiliating, but I seemed to want it.  I was embarrassed, but did it,
and wanted more.  What was wrong with me?

	I did not have a clue...

	I ate, and went to bed, waking only once when I heard the door being
unlocked.  I opened my eyes to a slit and saw Steve's shadow pass me by as I
sprawled on my bed.  He did not even look my way, but stopped briefly in the
kitchen, then made a 'B-line' for his bedroom.  Sharon followed along behind her
beau, and I saw her hesitate at my side while Steve was in the kitchen.  She
smiled down at me.

	"It's late, Billy." she said.  "Go back to sleep."  And I did.  I was
out like a light in seconds.

	I woke Sunday morning in a daze.  Mt head was throbbing and my mouth and
tongue hurt from abuse.  I worked my jaw as I got up and staggered into the
bathroom to take a long piss.  My cock was hard, not unusual in the morning, but
it was also red and raw from all the excitement it had seen over the last couple
of days.

	I smelled coffee as I made my way back into the living room, dressed and
refreshed, if not fully awake.  I saw Steve in his bedroom, at his computer, and
Sharon sitting on the corner of the bed brushing out her long hair.  She looked
hot, and I stood mesmerized for several seconds until she glanced up and caught
me staring.  She smiled-

	"Morning, Billy.  Did you sleep okay?  You look totally wasted."

	I felt totally wasted, but could not find the voice to agree.  I forced
a smile and shrugged, heading for the coffeepot, hoping some caffeine would snap
me back to reality.  I heard Steve's voice as I poured-

	"You got mail, buddy.  You can check it in a bit.  Shary an' me are
goin' to the park for the day."  I grunted my thanks and gulped down my first
cup of coffee since early the day before.  It was hot, almost scalding, and
burned my tongue and mouth and throat on the way down, but it tasted great.  I
immediately woke up, or at least got a bit of sense back into my being.

	I flopped back onto the sofa and clicked on the television, watching the
Sunday morning news shows while Steve finished up on the computer.  It was his
PC; the entire workstation a gift from his office so that he could work at home. 
It was top of the line; DSL, printer, scanner, CD burner, a flat screen monitor
and a load of RAM and memory.  Steve had allowed me to set up a Hot-Mail account
early on, though all I ever seemed to get was SPAM, or the occasional e-mail
from my sister.  Still, he let me go on-line whenever I wanted, when he was not
on and busy, and I enjoyed surfing some of the adult sites.

	Sharon came out and sat beside me on the sofa.  She was dressed in her
shorts and sandals again, along with a tight-fitting halter-top.  Her long hair
was now pulled back into a ponytail.  She crossed her legs and bobbed one foot,
and I wondered if she was aware of how much that excited me.  She had known of
my fetish for feet.  Was she purposefully teasing me, or was she just ignorant
of how sexy I was finding her?

	"How're you feeling, Billy?" she asked, leaning in close.  "You really
had me worried the other day, y'know?"  I hung my head, my heart breaking at the
thought of worrying her.  Tears welled up in my eyes, despite my best efforts to
stop them, to hold them back.  My voice choked-

	"I-I'm fine, Sh-"  My voice croaked, and try as I might, I could not say
her name.  She stared at me, and I swear I saw the corners of her mouth curl
into a slight, almost invisible smile as she watched me struggle, trying to
talk.  I finally gave up as Steve came into the room.

	"Ready to go, Hon?"  He looked at Sharon expectantly, and she lit up
with a truly dazzling smile.  She stood, looping her finger through the
belt-loop of his bluejeans.

	"You bet!" she said with some excitement, then turned back to look down
on me.  "You want to tag along, Billy?  We're gonna go walking in the park. 
Maybe have a picnic in the Sheep Meadow."  She smiled down at me, totally
sincere without a clue to the looks that Steve was giving me.  He obviously did
not want me along, and I knew that if I accepted, I would pay for it later after
Sharon had gone home.

	"No thanks." I said, directing my gaze to her feet as I found it
impossible to look either of them in the eye.  "I have some stuff to do.  Thanks
anyway."

	"Anytime, Billy."  She smiled, "You're always welcome."

	"Yeah..." Steve added, though without the sincerity.  And with barely a
'good bye' they were gone.

	I sat there for awhile, enjoying the solitude, the peace and quiet. 
Some commentator was interviewing Hillary Clinton on the television, but I had
the volume so low that I did not know what they were talking about.  World War
Three could have started, and I did not even care.  I was almost hypnotized,
watching the television for any glimpse of her legs, shoes and feet when the
camera panned back for a wide-angle shot.  It was almost an hour later when the
computer snapped me out of my trance, announcing that I had mail.

	I went into Steve's bedroom, automatically noting the work I had ahead
of me, picking up his clothes and washing.  I sat at the workstation and logged
in with my password, retrieving my Hot-Mail account.  I had about a dozen
messages, most of which was SPAM.  There was one from my sister, giving me the
latest on the family woes and gossip, and asking when I might come home for a
vacation.  That seemed a good idea.  Get away from the big city for a week or
two and relax with my family.  I did not have the money, however, nor the
vacation time.  I thought briefly that Steve might help me out, then quickly
dismissed that notion.  I already owed him far too much.

	I deleted all of the messages but two; two that I did not recognize. 
They did not seem to have the usual SPAM hook in the subject line, and I did not
recognize the e-mail address; a generic Hot-Mail account like my own.  I opened
the first, reading the usual sender/receiver propaganda.  My eyes grew wide as I
then read the body of the letter-



Dear Billy,

	    As I promised, I have set up a club and thought you might want to
see it.  Not much there except a whole lot of pictures and a few audio files. 
There will be more to come, as I have a lot of ideas and nothing but time on my
hands.

	    I have located most of your friends that you mentioned on the
Internet and have logged their e-mail addresses into a letter complete with the
link to my (our) club.  It is ready to send if you ever give me any grief, and I
will not hesitate to do so.

	    I will be calling some day soon, and I will expect you to come
(ha-ha) when I do.  I have a lot of new ideas for some fun.

	    Take a look at the club, as I am rather proud of it.  Any input on
your part would be appreciated.  Looking forward to seeing you soon.

	Love,

	Your neighbor

PS:  Moose and Rocko say 'Hi'



	The web address for the club followed, and of course I went to see just
what was there.  It was a Yahoo Club, in the Adult section, under Bondage.  I
had to join Yahoo, then join the club as the second member.  It was private, and
apparently the Dog Lady had not invited anyone else into it yet.

	She was right in that there was not much there, but only in that there
was not much written.  A simple greeting on the main page directed everyone to
the photo files and the audio files.  There was a picture of the dogs on the
main page as well.

	The audio files were edited, so that one could download a file and hear
me, and only me, telling the world how much I liked feet, shoes and bondage. 
There was a file describing who I was as well, including my past, where I lived,
and my phone number.  I of course tried to delete it all, but I had no say in
changing the club.

	The photos were great, from a cinematography point of view.  My face and
body was clearly visible and identifiable in every shot.  I was shown kneeling
and bound, licking the dirt from a pair of sexy orange sandals, licking and
kissing feet, sucking dog dick and getting fucked up the ass by Moose.  It was
horrible, and for the first time in my life I can honestly say that I considered
suicide.  The woman was never visible above the thighs in any of the pictures,
and in most was not seen at all.

	I sagged back into the chair, wondering what I might do, knowing that
there was little that I could.  If I was better at manipulating a computer I
could probably hack into the site and erase everything, but she would no doubt
have it all up the next day.  And I would be punished, the address sent to the
few friends and family I had.  I would be humiliated beyond belief.  I could
contact Yahoo, requesting that they close the site, but I knew that would take
days, and she would just set up the club elsewhere and invite everyone I knew to
join.  I could go to her, beg her to stop, but she would just laugh and make me
blow her dogs again.  I was screwed...

	As a final insult I found my Hot-Mail address at the bottom of the page. 
The Dog Lady was thorough if nothing else.  I clicked out of the club, back to
my browser window and opened the last e-mail.  It was her again, wondering why I
had not replied.  I sighed and sent her a message, saying that she had done a
wonderful job on the site and begged her not to forward it to my friends and
family.  I pledged to do anything she wanted; how much worse could it get.  I
then logged off and shut the computer down.

	I curled up on my bed, anxiety building within me as my world came
crashing down.  I was a sexual pervert, and being blackmailed for my unusual
cravings.  I was little more than a slave to a woman who was more than twice my
age, and her dogs.  I was a housekeeper to my best friend, and a joke to his
girl, my ex.  I could not even go to the bathroom without fear of ridicule from
the women that worked in the laundry across the courtyard.  I was broke, in
debt, and useless.

	I cried myself to sleep...

PART 10

	Having nothing better to do, I went to work the next morning.

	Steve had come home late Sunday night, but I was so out of it and
miserable that I feigned sleep and ignored him, glad that Sharon had gone to her
own apartment for the night.  He had left early the next morning, not bothering
to wake me or leave a note.  He had not even made coffee.

	I got up and enjoyed a cold shower.  The near freezing water seemed to
shake me from my doldrums a bit, and I felt just a little more alive as I went
out to greet the world.  It was still early, and the Indian deli was not yet
open (not that I would go in there again) so I went a block out of my way and
got a strong cup of coffee at an all-night Korean deli instead.

	It was humid down in the subway tunnels, but I ignored it for the most
part, as I tried to ignore the other early morning travelers.  I sipped my
coffee, staring at the tracks as sweat trickled down my back until I felt the
first gust of wind heralding the approach of a train.

	I flopped down into a hard plastic seat, enjoying the cool
air-conditioning as the doors shut and the rumble of the train drowned out the
staticky announcements of the conductor.  I glanced at my fellow passengers,
feeling the anxiety building within me.  Most were oblivious to their
surroundings, either dozing or engrossed in a book or the morning paper.  There
was a steady drone of garbled music blended together from a dozen Walk-Men all
blaring at their top volume.

	My eyes rested on the one woman on the car.  She was seated at the far
end, writing something in a spiral notebook.  She was wearing a slate-gray
business suit, her long legs wrapped in dark stockings and black pumps with long
sharp heels.  Her legs were crossed and she casually dangled a shoe as she wrote
in her book, oblivious of my eyes captivated on the movements of her foot.  Her
dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun, and she was continually sliding her
eyeglasses back up her nose.  She had a bad habit of gnawing on her pen...

	I looked away, and saw a Latino man staring just as intensely at me as I
was at the businesswoman.  He smiled viciously, his hand drifting between his
legs as he scratched his crotch and I blushed.  I closed my eyes, wishing it
would all just go away...

	I punched in for work, then immediately went to see my boss.  An idea
had formed in my head, based on something Steve had said once in passing.  The
company had a staff psychiatrist available for any employee to use, and I
figured that I was to the point that I needed some professional help.

	I told my boss that I had logged in for work but that I need to see the
company 'shrink'.  He stared at me blankly, so I explained that I was feeling
depressed.  I had read the company handbook, and knew that I could get out of
work for at least one day using 'Depression' as the excuse.  I would need a
doctor's note, but I really did want to see the psychiatrist, so I did not see
the problem.  Grudgingly, he signed my time card and told me to get out, adding
that the doctor should send down the proper paperwork if I was really on the
level.  I assured him that I was and that I would remind the doctor, though I am
sure that he knew what he had to do.

	The doctor's office was on the seventy-second floor of the building, and
when I entered I was almost breathless with awe.  The receptionist' office was
larger than my whole apartment, and decorated with furniture and art work that I
would not be able to afford if I saved every penny of every check until I
retired.  The view was fantastic, with the World Trade Center towers  rising out
of the skyline to one side and the Brooklyn Bridge and Pier 51 to the other with
New York Harbor in between.  I don't know how the receptionist got any work
done, but it was no wonder that her desk was situated with her back to the view.

	The woman looked up from a memo she was reading and smiled widely.  She
was cute, though a bit plain, and luckily I could not see her legs and feet as
they were hidden beneath the desk.  I smiled back, introducing myself and
explaining that I wanted to see the doctor.  She smiled pleasantly and handed me
a few forms to fill out, indicating that I take a seat.  She said that I was in
luck, as the doctor had had a cancellation that morning and I could probably get
into see her at 9:30.  I raised my eyebrows upon hearing that the doctor was a
she, but dismissed it, hoping that she would be a stodgy old lady with gray hair
and two chins.

	I was half way through the forms when the office door opened and a
gorgeous Asian woman hurried into the office.  She had a briefcase under one arm
as she juggled a container of coffee and a bagel in one hand with a cell-phone
resting in the crook of her neck.  She was dressed in a black business suit
jacket and skirt with dark hose and deep purple heels and blouse.  Her long
black hair was loose, feathering down her back and sweeping about her shoulders. 
She smiled, nodding at me as she passed and approached the desk.

	"Hello, Jennifer.  Sorry I'm late.  Traffic was a bitch-"  She turned
back and flashed me an embarrassed smile.  She put her cell-phone away and
adjusted her briefcase before turning back to the desk.  "So, what's on for
today?"

	"Your 9:30 cancelled," Jennifer the receptionist said, then glanced at
me, "but Mr. Higgins here would like to see you.  He's from the mail room."

	"Fine."  The doctor, Dr. Tasha Ellington turned back to me.  "Just give
me a few minutes to get myself situated, Mr. Higgins, and I'll see you straight
away.  I'm just a bit flustered this morning."

	"No problem." I answered, watching as she juggled the things in her
hands.  Jennifer finally had to open the door to the inner office, and I heard a
muffled curse after the door was closed and the receptionist took her seat
behind the desk.  In about fifteen minutes I was allowed inside.

	The inner office was just as opulent as the outer one, if not more so. 
A huge rosewood desk that was littered with papers and files and books dominated
the room.  There was a coffee cup steaming on one corner of the desk next to a
huge phone with about a hundred buttons and a computer monitor behind that.  I
could see fresh water marks on the polished wood and blotter, as though the
doctor had moved the cup several times already that morning.  The walls were
paneled in the same rich rosewood and lined with several paintings in soft,
relaxing colors.  There was a huge potted palm in one corner and two other
doors, which I assumed went to a bathroom and a closet.  The view in here was
breathtaking as well.

	Dr. Ellington rose, extending her hand as the receptionist closed the
door behind me.  I assumed that she was married, with a name like Ellington, but
I did not see any ring on her finger.  She smiled warmly, putting me at ease
though I found it hard to hold her gaze.  She introduced herself, instructing me
to sit even as she did and quickly asked me what was wrong.

	I stuttered for a bit, feeling somewhat embarrassed as I tried to
explain the last few days to yet another beautiful woman.  I wondered how I kept
getting in this situation.  Slowly, I told her about that first encounter with
Steve and Sharon, and our respective reactions.  I went on to tell her about
waking up bound and gagged in the basement, which led to my experiences with the
lady and her dogs.  That led into the rape at the deli, and then seeing the web
site that the Dog Lady was blackmailing me with.  I told her how I felt through
it all; how it both embarrassed and excited me, and how at times I seemed to
crave the debasement more and more.  I told her of Sharon and our prior, brief
relationship, and of Steve and how they were now an item.  I told her
everything, eventually.  I held nothing back.

	Through it all, the doctor seemed to listen intently, occasionally
taking down notes even though she was recording the session on a tape recorder
with my permission.  I figured I had nothing to hide or lose at that point.  I
was already being blackmailed, after all.  I really found it hard to look at her
face throughout my confessions.  The more I told, the meeker and more submissive
I seemed to become.  I watched her hands instead as she scribbled in her
notebook or tapped her pen on the desk.  I shifted uncomfortably in the plush
black leather chair the entire time, and was a little embarrassed as I was
sweating, the back of my shirt soaked and staining the soft leather.

	At the end of my tale, the doctor sat back in her own chair (which was
bigger and higher than my own, I should add).  I caught a brief flash of knee as
she crossed her legs and drew a cigarette to her violet painted lips.  Where she
got it from, I don't know, but she smiled, offering me one in afterthought.  I
accepted and we both lit up.

	"I'm sorry," she said, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke at the ceiling. 
"We should not be smoking in here, but I just can't seem to quit.  Not a very
reassuring thing for a psychiatrist to say, I imagine."  I chuckled.

	"Don't worry about it.  I won't tell if you won't."

	"Deal."  She smiled, then glanced at her intercom box.  I watched as her
slender hand snaked across the desk, a slim finger uncoiling as a dark violet
nail brushed a button.  There was a harsh buzzing sound, and we soon heard the
muffled, tinny voice of Jennifer respond from the box on her own desk.

	"Jennifer, cancel all of my appointments until lunch.  I'm going to be
with Mr. Higgins for some time."

	"Yes, doctor."

	Doctor Ellington stared at me for some time, enjoying her cigarette. 
She was thinking, I could tell, as her eyes occasionally narrowed and looked far
away those few times that I could force my sight to meet hers.  I also noticed
that she was bobbing her leg under the desk; I could hear a slight squeak in her
chair and could see the shadow under her desk.  I felt my cock swelling just
thinking about it and placed my hands in my lap.

	"You say this all started just a few days ago?" she asked as she leaned
forward to crush out her cigarette.  She placed her elbows on the desk, resting
her chin on her thumbs as she steepled her fingers before her pouting lips.  I
could feel her eyes raking me up and down.

	"Yes, Ma'am."

	"You don't need to call me Ma'am, Mr. Higgins.  You can call me doctor,
or even Tasha if it will make you more comfortable."  I nodded.  "Why did you
call me Ma'am?"

	I thought for a moment.  "Out of respect, I suppose.  You're a doctor,
and a woman-"

	"And you were brought up to respect women, and people of alleged
authority, like doctors, the police, teachers..."  I nodded again.

	"That's common enough, Mr. Higgins.  I find it a lot in men and women
your age.  I was brought up that way myself.  Still, it is theorized that it
leads some people to be a bit submissive, being raised to respect authority. 
The things you described lead me to believe that that might be the case with
you.  Just at a first assumption, I think that might be the basis to at least
some of what's happening to you.

	"You've stated that you've assumed the almost 'housewife' role in your
relationship with your roommate; doing the housework, taking the lesser bed and
deferring to his 'wisdom'.  You sounded somewhat angry that he had taken Sharon
from you, but in the end you let him without a struggle at all.  You describe
Sharon as talking down to you, and calling you 'Billy', which you hate, but
allow to go on.  I think there is more to it, but I believe the root of your
problem is that you are submissive, or at least not strong-willed, and some one
has taken advantage of that."

	I blinked, trying to absorb what the doctor had said, and it all seemed
reasonable in someone else.  I did not in the least think that I was so weak
willed...But I was doing the chores.  I was working at a menial job, trying
harder to keep Steve happy than I was trying to better myself.  I sat around
counting all the things that needed done at the apartment every day; Steve's
laundry, the dishes, the vacuuming, the dusting, the toilets...The list went on
and on.  I seemed to be living for Steve's approval, hoping he would let me stay
with him one more month, indefinitely.

	And I did let Sharon talk down to me.  I let her call me 'Billy', like I
was her kid brother and not an old boy friend.  Was it out of some twisted form
of respect?  Was it some submissive streak drilled into my subconscious by my
parents?  Or was I maybe still in love, or lust with her and I hoped to make her
happy enough that she might see me in a more favorable light?

	"Fine, doctor."  I tried to keep the anger out of my voice.  "Let's
assume that you're right, and I am some closet submissive.  How does that get me
tied up and drinking out of the toilet, or bound and gagged in the basement? 
Why can't I remember what happened?  And how do I suddenly drop to my knees and
want to kiss a woman's feet just because she smiles and says hello?"

	The doctor leaned forward and picked up her pen to jot something down in
her book.  She then swept her hair back over her shoulder and settled back
again, twirling the pen in her fingers.  I watched in some amazement at her
speed and dexterity at so seemingly simple an act.  The pen spun in a blur, the
deep purple of her fingernails sparkling as they caught the light.  I could hear
the low hum of the tape recorder as we both sat silently, droning on and on...I
still could not meet her eyes.  Finally she spoke again, her voice softer than
before-

	"You're quite right, Mr. Higgins.  A normal man would not bow down and
kiss a woman's feet because she flashed him a smile.  Neither would a
submissive, I imagine, unless it was under controlled conditions.  Whether you
care to believe it or not, I believe that is what has happened.  I think you
missed the last part of my previous statement, or perhaps did not understand.  I
believe that someone is playing on the respect you naturally give them,
exploiting it even.  Using it and you for their own benefit.  Some of the acts
you told me of are just too bizarre, Mr. Higgins, and I find you
too...well-balanced at this point to believe that you did any of it of your own
free will.  To suddenly snap and drop to your knees in the deli as you explained
you did..." she shook her head I saw from the corner of my eye, though I still
watched her hands.  "To submit to some of the degradations you described...You
would be displaying abnormal tendencies before me by now if you were truly not
well."

	"You believe me then?"  I finally got the nerve to look into her soft,
smiling face, her dark eyes.  She was watching me intently, but I felt relaxed
somewhat under her strong scrutiny.  She nodded-

	"Yes Mr. Higgins.  No one has apparently come forward to report a maniac
that kisses women's feet or hops around in apartment buildings, naked, bound and
gagged.  I believe you..."

	"Then what's wrong with me?" I almost cried.  "Why am I doing these
things?  Why can't I remember-"

	"That's what I hope we can find out."  She got up and came around to the
front of the desk.  She seemed to tower over me as she leaned back, almost
sitting up on the edge, folding her arms under her breasts.  I dropped my gaze
to the floor, embarrassed, just in time to see her cross her ankles.  I felt the
bulge in my pants throb again as it strained to rise.

	"Tell me Mr. Higgins..." she began, lighting another cigarette with her
silver Zippo.  She did not offer me one this time, and seemed ignorant of the
fact that she was blowing smoke almost directly into my face.  "Have you ever
been hypnotized?"

	"No." I answered matter-of-factly, breathing in the cloud of blue smoke
that swirled about my head.  I started to reach for a butt from my own pack, but
felt her soft hand on my arm and hesitated.  I glanced up into her stern face
and lowered my hand back to my lap as she shook her head.

	"Are you sure?" she went on.  "Never at a party, or back in high school
or college as a prank?"

	"No." I answered again.

	"Not by a doctor to lose weight, or quit smoking?"  I shook my head.  "I
have..." she chuckled, "though obviously it did not take.  Some people just
can't be hypnotized.  Me for instance, I'm much too hyper.  I took up smoking in
the first place to try to calm down, and because it just looked so cool."  She
giggled.  "Oh, I know it's killing me, but I'm not ready to stop.  Anyway, I
tried hypnosis to stop once, and my doctor said I was just too hyperactive to
relax.  One needs to be relaxed to be hypnotized, did you know that Mr.
Higgins?"

	I tried to respond, but nodded instead.  She was hyper all right, and
could not keep her hands still as she spoke.  She was almost tracing pictures in
the air between us as I watched the glowing tip of her cigarette and the
trailing wisps of smoke left from her movements.  It was relaxing, watching her,
listening to her soft voice...

	"Are you trying to hypnotize me, doctor?"  I looked up at her and saw
her smile.

	"Well..."  She half-turned and crushed the cigarette out in a glass
ashtray on her desk.  She then turned back and hoisted herself fully onto the
desk so she was sitting directly before me.  Her ankles were still crossed, and
swinging now, the toe of her shoe almost tapping my knee with every arch.  "No,
Mr. Higgins.  I was hoping though, to show you how easily it might have been
done, even without you being aware of it.  Submissive people are also easily
suggestive, and in the last few minutes I've been using a few subtle 'tricks' to
both spark your interest and to help you relax.  Are you relaxed, Mr. Higgins?"

	I was, I had to admit.  I was also excited, watching this woman swing
her legs, and I think she knew it.  I nodded, whispering a barely audible
affirmative.  She smiled.

	"I thought so.  But don't worry.  I would not hypnotize you without your
permission.  I believe that someone else may have, however, and I would like to
try myself."

	"Why?"

	"Under hypnosis you may be able to remember more details concerning your
experiences.  You may be able to remember who tied you up with a little coaxing. 
And as far as your encounter in the deli; I believe that someone might have
placed a suggestion in your sub-conscious to do what you did under certain
circumstances."

	"Like what?"

	"I don't know, Mr. Higgins."  She shrugged, fully crossing her legs and
linking her fingers over her knee.  "Obviously nothing that I have said or done
since you came to see me.  That's something we might discover if you allow me to
put you under."

	I frowned, watching as she twirled her foot, stretching her ankle.  I
had no doubt that she could hypnotize me.  Hell, I was almost under just
watching her shoe.  I was hesitant though.  I wanted to find out what was
happening to me, and why I was doing the things I was doing.  It was all so
strange and sending my life into a spiral.  But what if I did not like the
answers that she found?  What if Steve had done something to me?  Or Sharon? 
What would I do then?  How could I go back to my life?  But then, I really did
not have a life now, never knowing when I might humiliate myself again.  I had
to do it, and face the consequences.

	"All right..." I mumbled, staring at the floor as she slid off the desk.

	"Excellent!"  She seemed happy as she went to the door and dimmed the
lights a bit.  When she returned to her desk she sat in her chair and started to
rummage through her desk.  She placed a small device on the blotter and turned
it on and it immediately lit up and started to strobe a slow steady flash of
light.  She buzzed on the intercom and told the receptionist to hold her calls.

	I was watching the strobe already as she started talking, telling me to
do so.  Her voice seemed normal, but softer than before, and almost monotone.  I
could see the shadow of her face, just beyond the flashing light, and her eyes
seemed to sparkle with every illumination.  I listened to her words, watching
the blinking light.  I smelled smoke...

PART 11

	She spoke-

	"Hypnosis is not like you see on television, Mr. Higgins.  Not entirely. 
There are those stage hypnotists that have a will forceful enough to make you
bark like a dog or walk like a duck, but clinical hypnotism isn't like that. 
Doctors like myself use hypnosis to get at the root of your problems, sometimes
laying hints and suggestions to give you a 'mental' push in the right direction;
the direction you want to go...

	"Just relax, Mr. Higgins.  Think of calm, happy things and listen to my
voice.  Watch the light.  Enjoy the cigarette...You like to smoke don't you?  It
relaxes you, and you should enjoy it.  There is no reason not to relax, because
I'm a doctor.  I've done this a million times.  I am more than qualified to help
you, and you know that.  You respect that.  You respect that I am a doctor, and
a woman and that relaxes you.  You respect people of higher authority, and are
in fact drawn to them; the police...teachers...doctors...

	"You came to me because I am a doctor and you trust and respect me.  You
know that I will do nothing to harm you.  You know that I cannot make you do
anything against your will.  You cannot be made to do anything that you do not
want to do.  Not really.  You cannot be made to do anything but relax, and watch
the light...Listen to my voice...Smell the smoke...It's cool.  Relaxing..."

	And I listened...and watched the light...and smelled the smoke...

	

	I woke, weary to my bones and aching.  My knees hurt, oddly, and my
mouth.  I smelled something strange.  There was an annoying ringing echoing in
my brain, over and over.  I thought it was my alarm clock, at first, and I
reached up and over to shut it off.  My hand hit something...

	It wasn't a wall, or even the back of my sofa bed.  It was warm, and
soft, and familiarly cylindrical.  I was on my stomach, so forced to crane my
neck to look up at what I had grabbed.  It was a leg; a woman's leg wrapped in
nylon, shapely and tan.  I blinked, and realized that my face must have been
resting right on top of her foot.  I had apparently fallen asleep on her
high-heeled, strappy sandal after doing god knows what.  I followed her leg up,
past her body and met her face.  She was just lowering her head, opening her
eyes to look at me with a dreamy, far away look on her face.  Beads of sweat
dotted her brow.  We both yelped in mutual surprise when our eyes met.

	I was dimly aware that the ringing had stopped as I tried to scramble
back and away on my knees.  The woman, whom I vaguely recognized but could not
place, jerked her foot back, wrenching her ankle from my grip.  I heard
someone's soft voice talking and turned to see another woman standing with her
back to me.  She had long black hair and was wearing a black skirt and purple
blouse and heels.  It was Doctor Ellington talking into a cell-phone.  The other
woman, sitting in the chair before me, was Jennifer her receptionist, I
realized, and remembered then what was going on.

	I had let the doctor hypnotize me, to get to the root of my problems. 
But why was I on the floor at Jennifer's feet?  Why was she even in the room? 
What the hell were they...I felt a breeze between my legs and glanced down.  I
could feel the burn of shame as my body reddened in humiliation.  I was naked. 
I started cursing and flailing about, trying to get to my feet.  I was just so
tired...

	The doctor spun back around just as Jennifer called out that something
was wrong-

	"Damn!" I heard Dr. Ellington curse as I fell forward again, my head
spinning.  "Jennifer!  Hold him down!"

	The receptionist hesitated only a second as I shook my head, then I saw
her start to rise from her chair, then lunge forward.  She slammed into me and
we both sprawled backwards.  I crashed to the carpeted floor with her lying on
top of me.  Her body was flushed and warm on mine as I felt her scrambling for
purchase.  I cried out for her to stop, but she edged her way forward, finally
coming to rest sitting on my stomach, holding me down with her full weight.  I
tried to push her off, but she easily grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the
floor over my head.  I writhed under her, feeling her warm flesh, her damp
panties on my stomach, but I was too weak and tired to throw her off.  In the
distance, I heard the doctor's voice-

	"Jim...I've gotta go!  I'll call you back later."

	"Help!" I feebly cried, just to have the receptionist clamp both of my
wrists in the grip of one of her small fists while slapping her palm over my
mouth, stifling my screams.

	The doctor stepped up by my head, her feet so close that I could smell
the worn leather of her dark purple pumps.  My eyes wide and wild, I looked up
her long body towering over me.  I could see a shiny glimpse of satin deep in
the shadows under her skirt.  She crouched down and stared into my face-

	"Mr. Higgins!  Stop it!  We're trying to help you..."

	I shook my head despite the pressure of Jennifer's hand over my face. 
"Nnnnn..." I cried, knowing that whatever they were up to, it could not be
helping me.  I could barely breathe, and my vision was graying.

	"Mr. Higgins!...Please..."  I saw the doctor's brow furl, and then she
leaned in close-

	"Hi, Billy-"

	The receptionist squealed, rearing back and releasing her grip on my
hands and mouth.  "He licked my hand!" she squeaked in disbelief.  I quickly
took advantage of my limited freedom and rolled towards the doctor as best I
could.  I slid my head under her knees and pressed my face to her shoes, sliding
my tongue over the warm, smooth leather.

	"Please..." I begged as I licked the doctor's shoes.  "Please let me be
your slave.  Let me lick your shoes clean.  Let me kiss your feet.  I'll do
anything you say...Please!"  It was like in the deli all over again.  I could
not believe the whiny quality in my voice, nor did I care.  All I could see was
her shoes; the four-inch, dark purple, leather pumps that adorned her perfect
feet.  I wanted them, above all else.  I wanted to lick them clean.  Nothing
else mattered...

	I heard the doctor sigh, but I ignored it as she stood.  She leaned back
against the desk, extending one shapely leg just enough to allow me to get at
her foot.  I slavered away, turning her foot enough so that I could get at the
sole of her shoe.  I licked away at the dirt, and barely heard her talking to
the receptionist that I had forgotten, still sitting on my stomach.

	"Try and calm him down, Jennifer."

	"How?"  The receptionist shifted her weight, leaning back so that her
butt pressed down on my penis, bending it down between my legs.  My dick was
hard and throbbing again, pushing up against Jennifer's dress.

	"Rub his stomach..."

	Jennifer stared down at me for a moment, then scooted back on my body a
bit more, allowing me to roll fully onto my back again.  I know that she could
feel my manhood, just as I could feel the warmth and dampness dripping down from
between her legs.  I felt her warm, soft hands as they tentatively rested on my
belly, then I moaned softly as she began to slowly rub.  It felt wonderful, but
I was still intent on the other woman, and her shoes.

	I strained as the doctor took her foot away and placed it on the floor,
shifting her weight.  I whimpered, sounding like a beaten dog until she sighed
and raised the other shoe over my face.  She planted the heel of her pump on my
forehead, then lowered the sole to my lips and waiting, straining tongue.  I
licked...

	I was in ecstasy...

	I was in Hell...

	I woke on the floor again.  I was still naked.  I looked up at the high
ceiling, the dark, paneled walls and felt relaxed, rested.  I felt at peace.  I
was tired though, and I ached.  Grit crunched against my teeth as I licked my
dry, parched lips.  My stomach felt sticky, and I smelled of sweat and sex.  I
moaned, and heard a now familiar voice-

	"How are you feeling, Mr. Higgins?"

	Doctor Ellington stepped around the desk and towered over me.  She had
her arms crossed under her breasts and a slight smile curled her shapely lips. 
I glanced at her shoes, wishing I hadn't, expecting to attack them again.  I
didn't, but noticed that they were sparkling.  She crouched down beside me, a
glass in her hand.

	"I'll bet you'd like some water."

	"Yes...Please..." I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.  She
helped me to rise up and lean on one elbow before placing the glass to my lips. 
As I greedily drank, I noticed Jennifer the receptionist sitting back in her
chair watching me.  She flashed me a weak smile and blushed from embarrassment. 
I did the same.

	"Wh-What happened?" I choked when the water glass was empty.  Doctor
Ellington stood again, placing the glass on her desk.

	"There were...complications, when I hypnotized you."  She leaned back
against her desk again, ignoring my nakedness, and the fact that I was still
lying at her feet.  I stared up at her, waiting, but she turned towards Jennifer
and motioned for her to leave.  We both watched silently as the woman rose and
left the room, closing the door to the office behind her.  Then the doctor
turned back to me.

	"It took me no time at all to put you under; just a couple of minutes,
in fact.  As I suspected, you are highly suggestible to hypnosis.   I spoke to
you for a bit; about your life and dreams, your relationships and friends.  Your
fantasies..." She hesitated for a moment, then drew a cigarette from a crumpled
pack on the desktop.  She offered me one, and lit them both before continuing.

	"To find out what has been happening to you, I had to have you give me
more detail over the last few days.  Who you came in contact with, for one, and
what exactly you did for another.  I had you regress back to that first
incident; when you woke up bound, with your head in the toilet.  I had you trace
that day for me, but found a gray area from the time that your roommate and his
girlfriend left the apartment until you woke up.  I found similar fogginess
about all the other encounters.  Whoever did this to you was quite thorough, and
did not want you to remember who they were at any cost.  In fact, when I pressed
you too hard, you started crying and speaking in baby-like gibberish.  It took
me several minutes to get you out of that..."

	I blinked- "What do you mean, 'baby-like gibberish'?" I asked, confused
but suspecting that I knew just what she meant.

	"Goo-goo...Gah-gah...That sort of thing." She smirked, taking a drag off
of her cigarette.  "If it had not been so pathetic, it might have been funny."

	I blushed, hanging my head.  "Thanks..." I whispered, my eyes drawn to
her shoes.

	"Sorry." She apologized, then continued-

	"When I got you back to a persona that I could talk to, I steered the
questions towards the last few seconds of each encounter that you remembered.  I
theorized that whoever did this to you probably layered key words into your
subconscious; post-hypnotic suggestions that would be triggered if you heard a
certain sound, or word or phrase."

	"You keep saying 'whoever did this to me'...Are you saying that I was
hypnotized?"

	"Oh yes, Mr. Higgins.  You've been walking around at someone else's whim
for the last few days, just waiting for something to trigger one of the
suggestions that were placed in your head.  And there were a lot, let me tell
you."

	I felt like a total fool upon hearing that.  It was even worse,
realizing that I was still sitting on the floor in front of her.  Realizing that
I was still naked, and worse, my eyes kept drifting to her feet.  I took a drag
on my cigarette, hoping I might wake up from this nightmare soon...

	"Just in casual conversation, questions I put to you, you broke my
trance and started acting in a way that someone else wanted you to.  Most of the
time it played on your fetishes, and you would simply drop to your knees and
prostrate yourself.  Several times you started to kiss my feet, or the ground I
was walking on.  When I said a certain word, you would take your penis out and
start to masturbate.  You proclaimed eternal devotion to me on more than one
occasion.

	"I asked Jennifer to join us after a couple hours of that.  I had a
fairly good idea of what I was dealing with, and needed to see first hand what
would happen when a third party stimulated you.  I had written down a list of
the trigger words that I had discovered and gave that to Jennifer.  I had her
read the list and I watched your reaction.  Apparently, it does not matter who
says the trigger, as you performed with as much enthusiasm  for her as you did
for me."  She chained another cigarette to life and crushed out her first.  She
offered me another, and I exchanged my spent butt for a new one, needing the
stimulation of the nicotine.  This was all too bizarre...

	"Jennifer had just spoken the word that got you to suck on her toes when
my cell-phone rang and snapped you out of your trance.  We were all taken by
surprise, and you were verging on the violent, I believe, thinking that we were
somehow taking advantage of your situation.  At that point I did, I'm afraid..."

	"I remember." I whispered.

	"I used the trigger that turned you into a groveling 'foot slave', and I
am terribly sorry that I did that to you.  I felt for your safety, however, and
mine and Jennifer's as well.  It was the quickest solution that came to mind." 
I remembered; Jennifer rubbing my belly to calm me down while I licked the soles
of Doctor Ellington's shoes.  I could feel my penis growing just thinking about
it-

	"That's okay." I smiled weakly.  "Apparently I enjoyed it."

	She smirked, then frowned.  "After you calmed down, and I got you back
under I did my best to eliminate the suggestions that the other person planted. 
Honestly, I wasn't very successful.  Whoever did this to you has a lot more
experience at manipulating minds than I do, or at least is more familiar with
what will trigger you the easiest.  I did manage to eliminate a couple, and I
changed a few more.  People can say 'Hi' to you now without you dropping to your
knees and wanting to kiss their feet.  There was also a bell trigger; like a
phone ringing, that would set you in a simple trance that left you at the mercy
of anyone who spoke to you.  I eliminated that one.  But there are so many. 
I'll be honest.  I need to research this some before I try again.  I would keep
on going today too, as this is by far the most fascinating thing I've
encountered in my few years of medicine, but I have Union meetings all
afternoon.  I really can't cancel out on those.

	I understood.  Other people depended on the doctor to hold onto their
lives and jobs.  I was just another patient.  I told her that I understood.

	"I do want to continue though, Mr. Higgins.  Say on Friday?"

	"Another session?"

	"Don't worry," she assured me.  "It's on the company.  I'll send a memo
to your boss saying that you will be out of work until further notice, and I'd
like you to come back and see me on Friday morning, if that's convenient."  I
said that it was.  "Good.  That'll give me time to research this a bit.  Beyond
your problem, Mr. Higgins, this has become personal.  I'll be damned if I let
someone beat me out on this."  She leaned back, crushing out her cigarette then
jotting something down in her appointment book.  "I would suggest that you stay
away from everyone as best you can until Friday.  I know that will seem
impossible, but the less human contact you have the better.  I found several
trigger words, but there's no telling how many more there are.  If you have the
money, I'd suggest checking into a hotel for a few days."

	I told her that that was impossible.  I just did not have that kind of
money.  That worried her a bit, but she did not offer to take me in either, so I
guess we would both survive.  She told me to get dressed then, finally, and
reminded me to be at her office on Friday morning, promptly at eight.

	I accepted it on good faith that she would indeed contact my boss, so
upon leaving her office, I left the building as well.  I was almost out the door
of the main lobby when I heard someone calling my name.  I turned and saw
Jennifer the receptionist running towards me.

	"Mr. Higgins..." she gasped, out of breath, "I'm so glad I caught you. 
Dr. Ellington thought it would be a good idea if someone saw that you made it
home in one piece.  Since she has meetings all afternoon..."  She shrugged, and
I smiled.  I was glad that the doctor was so concerned for me, though I was
sorry that the pretty receptionist had to pay for it.

	"Thanks," I said, "but that's okay...Really...I'll be fine."

	Jennifer smirked, looking around the lobby at a quick glance before
turning back to me.  There was no one in sight except for the security guard,
and he was absorbed in reading some magazine.  Jennifer leaned in close-

	"Toe..." she whispered, and I immediately fell to my knees and began
kissing her big toe.  I don't know how long she let me degrade myself, but at
some point the urge left me and I was struggling to rise again.  I assumed that
she said something else to break me from my task, but I do not know what.  She
was wearing a huge, ear-to-ear smile in the brief instant when my eyes met hers. 
Then shame made me stare at her feet again.

	"That was one of the words that Tasha couldn't erase.  We don't know how
many more there might be.  I just want to see you home, Mr. Higgins."  I sighed,
finally agreeing.

	I hailed a cab and we rode uptown in relative silence.  I was miserable
with my thoughts, but I found my eyes wandering occasionally to her legs and
feet.  Whatever had been done to me kept me in an almost perpetual state of
lust.  If Jennifer saw me snatching glances, she did not mention it, though I
noted that she did not pull her skirt down either.

	I was ready to bolt from the taxi when it slowed in front of my
apartment building, but Jennifer grabbed my arm before I could open the door. 
"Mr. Higgins, I know that Doc Ellington gave you her cell number, but here's
mine as well."  She handed me a folded piece of paper.  "Really, we...I want to
help.  If you have any trouble, anything...Call me."  She smiled, looking away.

	I stared at the paper in my hand, then looked at her.  I was not sure,
but I think she had just asked me to call her.  "Okay...I promise.  If I have
the slightest desire to lick feet, I'll call you."

	Jennifer giggled, and I got out of the cab.  I was feeling better than I
had in days as I watched the yellow taxi speed away and round the corner onto
the Avenue of the Americas.  I suddenly felt that I could beat this.  I could
beat whoever had done this to me.  I turned, fishing for a cigarette as I walked
towards my building, not paying attention-

	"Heya, Billy boy!"

	I dropped my cigarette, glancing up as I felt my legs go weak.  I fell
to my hands and knees, continuing forward, crawling towards the open door, and
more importantly the black leather shoes that my gaze was focused on.  Somewhere
in the back of my mind I heard a scream; my own voice, which I ignored.  I
sprawled on the dirty floor of the lobby of my building's entrance, grasping at
the pant cuffs of the legs before me as I lowered my face to the dusty black
shoes.  My tongue strained to touch the leather as the feet tried to shuffle
back and out of my grip-

	"What the fu-"

	It was Wade, the Doorman...

PART 12

	Wade jerked his leg back out of my grasp and slammed a kick across my
face.  I yelped in pain as stars spiraled through my sight, but somehow held
onto his other leg.  I scrambled after him, crawling on my belly as he tried to
break away.  He cursed at me, kicking me about the head and shoulders as I tried
to lick kiss his feet.  I ignored the pain as best as I could, my whole being
focused on getting at his shoes.  Finally he slammed his heel down on the back
of my head and my face smashed into the floor with enough force to make me let
go.  I moaned, more in despair than pain as he scrambled back and out of my
reach.

	"What the hell are ya doin', ya freak!" he shouted, keeping his
distance.  I looked up, tears welling in my eyes and saw that he was at his
desk, his phone in his hand, dialing.  Wade usually sat in a small office near
the door where he had a desk, closet, bathroom and filing cabinet.  There was a
phone console to call the sixty-odd apartments in the building, as well as a
ledge where packages were usually kept for pick up.  There was a wall about four
feet high separating his office from the lobby, allowing him to see the doors in
order to open them when he was needed.  He was standing at the wall, phone
receiver in hand as he dialed the phone blindly on his desk while trying to keep
me in sight.

	"Callin' the cops on yer ass, faggot!  I don't get paid enough fer that
shit!"

	Horror gripped me, and the tears started flowing as I crawled forward
again.  I did not want to go to jail!  God knows what would happen to me there. 
In my current state, I would be somebody's bitch within an hour, if I survived
the beating the cops were sure to give me.  Wade cursed as I grabbed at his
pants leg again, begging him to stop-

	"Wade!  Please!" I whined, quickly planting a kiss on the toe of his
shoe before he could snatch it back.  I figured that would break the spell and
snap me out of the hypnotic suggestion that had me on my knees, but nothing
happened.  It actually got worse-

	"Please, Wade!  Please!  I want to be your slave...Let me lick the dirt
off your shoes!"

	I lowered my lips to the dirty leather of his loafers and started
planting kisses all over his shoe.  I was intoxicated by the smell, the soft,
supple feel of the worn leather.  I ran my tongue along the hard, dirty heel
tasting filth and grit.  He slid his foot back and I dragged my tongue over the
spot on the floor where he had been standing.  I heard the phone land back in
its cradle then and cautiously craned my neck, looking up.

	Wade was towering over me, leaning against the short wall of his office
for support.  His eyes were wide with wonder, his mouth open in shock.  He was
not a bad looking man, I suppose, though he was almost forty years my senior. 
He still had a thick head of dark brown hair with just a hint of gray at the
temples and a salt and pepper mustache.  He wore a pair of black slacks and a
white shirt and tie for his job.  And of course, the black loafers.  I noticed
that he had stopped trying to back away.

	"Get the fuck up!" he snapped, though somewhat breathlessly and I
struggled up to kneel before him.  He was licking his lips, staring at me as I
looked up.  I wanted to beg him to let me go, to forget all this.  I wanted to
tell him that I was sick, that someone was making me do this.  I hung my head in
shame, staring at his feet, unable to utter a word in my defense.  I felt his
hand twist into my shirt collar as he roughly jerked me to my feet-

	"I said get up, faggot!"  He grabbed my right wrist and twisted my arm
behind me, grinding it up and high into my back.  He forced me along on my toes
as he pushed me through the door to his office and roughly shoved me back to the
floor.  I was whimpering as he stood above me, staring daggers into me like I
was a dog that had just soiled his carpet.  My dick was growing hard in my pants
as he hauled back and kicked me again.  I moaned, whining in pain-

	"Wade...Please...Just let me lick your shoes, kiss your feet.  Then I'll
go.  Please-"

	He kicked me in the ribs and I flinched away, trying to shield myself. 
It hurt, as he was big and his strength was fueled by his rage.  He was
breathing heavily, and I could see almost vibrating from an adrenaline rush when
I chanced a glance up again.  I could not meet his eyes, but I could feel him
staring at me, staring down at me.  He was thinking I could tell, considering
me.

	Suddenly he rolled his chair out and away from his desk revealing a
small cubbyhole where his legs would normally fit.  "Get in there!" he ordered,
and started kicking me again until I wormed my way into the tight space beneath
his desk.  I had to curl up my legs until I was almost in fetal position, and he
kicked me again until I was facing and lying as he wanted me.  Finally
satisfied, he sat back into his chair and rolled it up, leaning forward with his
arms resting across his knees as he sneered at me.

	"I ain't no faggot like you, boy, but if you want'a massage my feet so
much, I'll let'cha."  He shoved a foot under my face, then pressed the other
down on my head to keep me in place.  "You just start lickin', an' don't stop
'til I tell ya.  I wanna see a shine on those shoes, boy." He ground his heel
into the side of my face.  "Get to it!"

	And I did.  I licked his shoe with a relish, as though I were making
love to it.  I dragged my tongue over the soft leather on top, and around the
sides.  I strained to get at the heel, and Wade moved his foot just a bit to
allow me access.  He lifted his foot slightly to let me clean the sole of the
shoe.  After some time he pulled his foot away and I whined, still not
satisfied.  I did not understand, but licking his shoes had not broken the spell
as it had before.  I wanted more.  I wanted to continue debasing myself before
this man.  I wanted, craved the humiliation of being at his feet.  Wade shifted
in his seat a bit and slid his other foot beneath my nose, placing the cleaned
shoe on the back of my head.  I started in again.

	I don't know how long he kept me at his shoes, but it seemed like hours. 
At one point though, he leaned back and hooked the heel of his shoe behind my
ear and pried it free.  I heard a 'shush' as his shoe popped off of his foot and
fell in front of my face, and instantly I was overwhelmed with the smell of his
sweaty feet and socks.  He repeated the movements with the other foot, then
shoved the empty shoes beneath my nose as he rested both of his sweaty,
stockinged feet on my head.

	"Get yer tongue in there an' clean the insides too, boy." He ordered and
I obeyed, burying my face in his shoe.  I felt him cross his ankles and lean
back in his chair as I worked.  I knew that he was watching me, and I think he
was enjoying it all; my humiliation, his newfound power over me, the attention
even.  I licked at the stains of sweat that lined the insides of his shoes.  I
made the insoles shine with my efforts, forcing my face as far into the shoes as
it would go, stretching my tongue to its limits.  It tasted foul, and part of me
wanted to retch, but I could feel my cock getting harder and harder with every
lick.

	All the while there were people passing through the lobby of the
building.  I cringed every time that I heard the elevator open into the lobby,
or heard someone walking down the stairs or open the front door.  Wade greeted
everyone, and most people felt the need to stand and chew the fat for a bit,
oblivious to the fact that I was beneath the doorman's desk licking his feet and
shoes.  Wade would push down on my face and head as he spoke to the tenants,
pressing my head to the floor under his feet.  He would worm his foot under my
chin and put increasing pressure on my throat, cutting off my air as though
daring me to struggle and be heard.  At one point he started pressing his
stockinged feet against my lips, shoving me back into my hole until he managed
to push his toes into my mouth.  He kept pushing until his foot was filling my
mouth and I was starting to gag.  I began sucking on his foot as he spoke to
some woman about the weather.

	Minutes did eventually turn into an hour...then two.  I was getting
cramped and I smelled of Wade's feet.  He was relentless in his torture,
ignoring my moans and whining by simply pressing me under his feet, applying
more and more weight until I fell silent.  He had me sucking his socks clean for
some time when he finally ordered me to stop and remove them.  His foot was deep
in my mouth, and he withdrew it until his toes rested on my teeth.  I bit down,
receiving a sharp kick from his other foot as I grazed his toe, then bit down on
the material of the sock.  I reared back, slowly pulling the sock from his foot,
only to be rewarded with the other foot being pushed into my mouth to repeat the
process.  When I was done, Wade shoved one naked foot into my mouth so that I
could resume cleaning and rested the other on my face, holding me down again. 
His bare feet still smelled, and as I washed his foot with my tongue I felt grit
and lint washing into my mouth from between his toes.  There was nothing I could
do but swallow and continue as whatever was driving me still had not broken.

	He left me for a time.  He finally pulled his feet away, still much to
my despair, and rolled his chair back.  I watched, growing excited as his feet
slipped into his loafers, whimpering as he stood.  He heard me and paused, and I
glanced up to see him staring down at me in disgust.

	"Please..." I begged, my mouth dry and my throat scratching.  Wade
crouched down and slapped me.

	"Pathetic little shit!" he cursed.  My face was burning from pain and
humiliation as Wade scooped up his socks and wadded them into a ball before
stuffing them into my mouth.  "Suck on that!" he commanded, and I did, happily. 
Satisfied, Wade stood and walked out of his office, ordering me not to move.  I
heard his heels as he clacked across the lobby, then opened and shut a door.

	I lay there under his desk listening to the silence, sucking on his
dirty socks as I had been told.  He had been gone for awhile when I realized
that this would be an opportunity to get away.  I could just crawl out from
under the doorman's desk and run from his office up the stairs and into my
apartment.  I tried to move.  I tried to spit the socks from my mouth.  I would
be free, if I could only move...

	I heard a toilet flush and a few seconds later the slamming of the door
across the lobby again.  The moment had passed and I had not moved save to swirl
the doorman's socks around in my mouth.  I sighed, tears welling in my eyes
again as I heard Wade's footfalls crossing the tiled floor.  In moments he
walked back into his office and plopped down in his leather chair once again. 
The chair moaned under his weight as he leaned back, watching me.  He took a sip
of water from a clear glass that he had brought back filled from the bathroom.

	I stared longingly as he took another drink, watching as a drop dribbled
down the side and fell to his pants.  I noticed then the bulge there between his
legs and hoped that it would stay there, hidden.  But I stared, and whatever was
driving me to do the things I did also had me hoping that he would release it. 
I wondered how his penis would taste as he thrust it in and out of my mouth.  I
wanted it... I-

	I yelped a muffled cry of pain as he jabbed the toe of his shoe into my
stomach.  "What the fuck're you lookin' at, faggot?" he snarled.  I heard him
chuckle as I moaned into my gag, rolling about as best as I could under the
desk.  I felt his foot slide between my legs and press down on my groin.  He
kept pressing until my eyes flew open and I was panting with lust.  I was
burning up, sweating, moaning...

	"God, yer sick, Bill.  Fuckin' pervert!"

	Wade rammed his heel into my groin, grinding it into my engorged cock
causing me to scream in pain.  The socks wadded up and stuffed into my mouth
muffled my cries, but I was still loud enough that the vicious moment passed as
quickly as it had begun.  I felt him remove his foot and watched through
watering eyes as he set his glass on the desk and pulled a cigarette from a pack
in his shirt pocket and lit up.  He stared at me, inhaling then blowing smoke
into my face and eyes.  He laughed as I winced, coughing around his socks.  He
was really enjoying my pain and humiliation, enjoying the power he had over me. 
He leaned back in his chair then, satisfied for a time as he stretched his legs
out, once more resting them casually on the back of my neck, forcing my head to
the filthy tiled floor under the desk.

	He kept me that way for a time, he relaxing and savoring his cigarette. 
He ordered me to continue sucking on his socks, and I was dutifully doing so
when we both heard the outer doors open.  Someone was coming into the building. 
I tensed as Wade leaned forward, rolling his chair closer to the desk.  His
weight shifted as he edged closer, and his feet pressed down on me forcefully,
his heels digging into my skin.  Wade lowered one hand beneath the desk, and
suddenly his cigarette was hovering about my head as the inner doors opened.

	I cringed to hear a familiar scrabbling on the floor beyond the desk. 
It was claws, scrambling for purchase on the slick tiles.  I knew who it was,
but as though to pound the final nail into my coffin, I heard her voice and was
dead certain-

	"Hi, Wade.  How are you?"  It was the Dog Lady.

	"Hey, Peggy.  Doin' good.  How's by you?" Peggy!  Wade knew her real
name, apparently, and now, so did I."

	"Not bad," she cooed, "just taking my babies for their afternoon
stroll."

	They were chatting; just making small talk as Wade held me prostrate
beneath the desk.  His cigarette bobbed overhead as they talked, and I saw a
long trail of ash waver and finally fall onto the toecap of his shoe.  I could
hear the dogs as well, on the far side of the desk.  They seemed out of breath
and impatient, probably straining on their leashes.  I could hear one of them
snuffling at the floor at the base of the desk, beyond the thin paneling behind
where I lay.  Moose or Rocko I did not know, but he must have caught my scent
because he started whining and scratching at the wood and floor to get at me.

	"Moose! Stop that!" I heard the Dog Lady as she made the Doberman yelp,
probably jerking back on his leash.  "What's wrong with you?"

	Wade removed his feet and stood.  I heard the desk creak as he leaned
over to look at the dogs on the other side.  "Sounds like he's in heat to me."
He chuckled, and I heard the woman laugh as well.

	"You could be right." I heard her say.  She made some noises that I
could only imagine was her kissing the dog.  "Isn't that right, baby.  You got
a' new bitch?"

	Wade laughed.  "Who's the lucky poodle?"  There was a moment's silence,
and then I paled as I heard the Dog Lady about to tell my secret-

	"Well, don't tell anyone, but it's-"

	The woman was cut off as the front doors opened and someone walked in. 
I heard the clack of high heels across the floor as a female voice said hello. 
Wade and Peggy greeted the woman, and I heard the elevator rumble to life
followed by a mailbox door opening and slamming shut.  A moment later the
elevator chimed, announcing its arrival.

	"Going up?" I heard the new woman say as she opened the elevator door,
and I heard the Dog Lady say that she was-

	"Yeah... I'll talk to you later Wade."

	"Okay, Peggy."

	I glanced up as the elevator rumbled away and saw Wade taking a final
drag from his cigarette.  He tossed it to the floor, then crushed the spent butt
under the toe of his shoe right in front of my face.  I whimpered, the simple
movement making my cock spring to life once again.  I saw a look of disgust
cross his face as he spotted the bit of ash on his shoe.  He sat down in his
chair and slid his foot under my face.

	"Clean that up!" he ordered.  I nodded, spitting his wadded up and soggy
socks onto the floor.  I ran my tongue across the soft leather of his shoe,
almost gagging on the foul, gritty taste of the cigarette ash.  I swallowed it
down though, but when I was finished he looked dissatisfied.

	"That floor's filthy.  Clean it up!"  I looked down and saw that he was
right.  Along with the regular dirt and grime there were heel marks scuffed into
the tiles and small mounds of dust gathered back in the shadowy corners under
the desk.  There was also a cigarette butt, and a smear of ash right under my
face.  "Start with that!" he commanded, and laughed as I bent low and lifted the
crumpled filter into my mouth with my tongue.  At his prompting I swallowed it
down, almost choking to his amusement.  I felt miserable, but Wade did not seem
to notice or care as he crossed his ankles over my back while I lowered my face
to the floor to lick it clean...

PART 13

It was nearing six in the evening when Wade finally rolled his chair back and
let me crawl out from beneath the desk.  I started to stand, thinking that my
ordeal was finally over since he was leaving for the day, his replacement to
come in soon.  I was quick to learn that my torment was only beginning as he
ordered me to remain on my knees as he flipped a few switches on his desktop
console.

	I watched as his monitor flickered and changed images.  It was the
security monitor, set up to watch various places around the building.  My eyes
widened as a staticky image slowly focused on the little area that was Wade's
office.  I saw myself as the view jumped through various stages of my
degradation; licking Wade's shoes, sucking on his toes, and ending with me
tongue polishing the floor beneath the desk.  He had it all on tape, and
remarkably his own image was not present in any shot.  It could have been any
man in the building making me jump through hoops, or any woman for that matter
as the feet and shoes in the video were just generic enough to be unisex.  The
screen flickered again, and I watched in horror as Wade ejected the videotape
from a machine and slipped it into his carry bag with a devilish grin.  Then he
turned to me.

	"I edited that in the last few minutes, in case you're wonderin'.  Just
a little insurance, boy."

	"Insurance?" I asked, wondering what was coming next, though I already
had a pretty good idea.

	"Yeah, " he mocked, leaning back and crossing his legs with a smug grin,
"just in case I want another massage.  It felt pretty good, I gotta admit." He
smirked.  "There's more though.  I figure I got the upper hand here, Billy boy,
so here's what I want you t'do.  I want a hundred bucks a week- I like ta play
the Lotto- an' yer gonna give it t'me.  If ya don't, I'll just show yer tape ta
some folks that might appreciate it, say yer roommate, or maybe that cute
girlfriend a' his.  I think they'd get a big charge outta seein' what you really
like."

	I imagined that they already had a pretty good idea of what they thought
I was like.  Still, I was walking the razor's edge with Steve and something like
Wade's video would be sure to push me over that edge with him.  Steve would
throw me out on the street if he saw the tape.  I would lose my job, and what
little bit that I owned.  Just like with Peggy, the Dog Lady, Wade had something
to hold over me, and I was trapped.  I hung my head and nodded that I agreed to
Wade's demands.

	"Say it!" he ordered, and I sighed in defeat.

	"I'll give you your money.  Just don't show anyone that tape." I
swallowed a lump in my throat.  "Please..." Wade smirked, pointing at his dried
and wadded up socks still on the floor-

	"One more thing.  I want ya ta keep those with ya at all times.  Just a
little reminder of our time together, an' our deal.  I might ask ta see those
sometime, so ya better have 'em.  Or else!"

	I nodded, agreeing to his terms and promising to give him a hundred
dollars every Friday night after I got paid.  Finally satisfied, Wade ordered me 
to give his feet a final kiss goodbye, then allowed me to leave.  His laughter
echoed behind me as I ran up the stairs to my apartment.

	The apartment was dark when I entered and with a sigh of relief I
slammed and locked the door.  I slumped back, leaning against the door as I
tried to rub some awareness back into my face.  I smelled of filth; feet and
cigarettes and dirt in general.  I needed a shower and a cigarette, maybe a beer
to relax my nerves.  It seemed that every minute I was sliding a little deeper
into a hole that I would never be able to climb out of.  I was trapped, a victim
of whomever was manipulating my mind.  According to Doctor Ellington I was laden
with dozens of triggers, maybe hundreds of catch words and phrases that would
send me into some form of depravity when spoken.  Wade had said something that
had kept me on my knees and at his feet the entire afternoon.  I had been his
literal foot slave for the better part of five hours and I had loved it.  Craved
it, despite the humiliation, and even the pain that he inflicted on me.

	I wandered into the bathroom, lighting up a cigarette even before I had
closed the door and cracked the window.  I barely opened it, not wanting to see
the girls in the laundry across the courtyard.  I was feeling bad enough and
totally confused while I racked my brain trying to work out who had done this to
me and why without seeing them laughing at me again.

	It came to me as I sipped my beer, working on my third cigarette. 
Sharon!  It was Sharon!  It had to be.  She was the only one that even had a
clue as to my deepest darkest secrets- my fantasies.  She had been my
girlfriend- not for long- but she knew me better than almost anyone except for
maybe Steve here in NYC.  I wondered how she had done it all, and when?  As best
as I could recall, we had never been alone long enough recently for her to put
me under, let alone attach all the commands into my subconscious that Dr.
Ellington said were present.

	I realized then that she must have done it all when we were still going
out.  That was the only time when we had been alone for long periods, and though
we had never actually slept together I recalled that we had napped together.  At
least I had napped!  Had she been planning this so long?  In the short time that
we had been together had she been subtly changing me over, conditioning me to
her way of thinking?  I shuddered at the thought.

	I considered calling Dr. Ellington then and there and telling her of my
suspicions but quickly realized that it was late and she was probably long gone
from her office.  I did have her cell phone number however, and quickly dialed
that.  I heard the phone ring four times before there was a click and my call
was forwarded to her answering service.  A femininely robotic voice told me to
leave a message at the tone, so I did.  I got a similar response when I tried
her secretary, so I left a quick message for both, telling them my thoughts and
saying that I was going to confront Sharon and end the hell that my life had
become.  I hung up the phone and sighed-

	I had made the decision to confront Sharon, but I had to admit that I
was a little nervous, a little scared.  I also had no idea how to go about it or
what to say.  I knew that she would stop by after her workday was done, but I
did not think that it would be a good idea to confront her here.  It was late,
and Steve would be home soon as well.  I figured too that it would be better to
talk it out with her in some public place.  I could meet her at the laundry,
maybe as she was leaving and offer to buy her dinner then drop the bomb at some
restaurant.  I nodded to myself, thinking that I had a good plan.

	I rushed out of the apartment, not wanting to run into Steve and hurried
out of the building.  I nodded at the doorman, not wanting to get involved in a
conversation that might put me back under the desk.  I was thankful that he
seemed preoccupied and only nodded in return as I hurried out the front door. 
It was a short walk around to the next street and I soon found myself
approaching the Laundromat.

	I glanced in the windows and looked right at Sharon who was just then
walking towards the door.  She was dressed in her work clothes; a light blue
smock draped over her tee shirt, blue jeans and tennis shoes.  She had her hair
pulled back into a ponytail, and her glasses were on top of her head.  She
smiled and pushed open the glass door and I saw that she had a huge ring of keys
in hand-

	"Billy!" she said, and I noticed that she did not say 'Hi'.  "What a
nice surprise.  What brings you by?" she asked, looking me up and down.  Even
though I had cleaned up from my ordeal with Wade I had not really worried too
much about fixing my hair or dressing well.  I tried to smile, feeling my voice
choke up in my throat-

	"I needed to speak with you, Sharon.  Do you have a minute?"

	"Sure.  C'mon inside-" she said, holding the door for me.  I hesitated-

	"Actually I was hoping we could get some dinner, or coffee at least."

	"I'm gonna be a few more minutes, Billy, and then I have to meet Steve
for dinner.  Sorry.  You could come-"

	"No!" I snapped, cutting her off.  No way did I want to talk to her with
Steve there.

	She shrugged.  "Well, we can talk while I finish up.  Otherwise it'll
have to wait.  Your choice."  I sighed, nodding.  I had to get this over with so
I brushed past her and into the laundry.  Sharon locked the door behind me and I
saw her turn the 'OPEN' sign around, now saying 'CLOSED' to anyone outside.  She
hooked her keys onto a clip on her belt loop and slipped around behind the front
counter again.

	I looked past her, glancing about the laundry's interior.  There were
racks of clothes hanging from a large automated spinner that stretched into the
back of the shop in a big loop.  The front part of the shop was not all that
big, but I could see a large open area in the rear where the people that I could
normally see from my windows worked.  I could see them there, through the
doorway leading into the back.  Crazy was at her machine, and I saw a young
Spanish guy moving about.  I stepped to the side, getting out of their line of
sight, nervously licking my lips as I returned my attention to Sharon.  She had
taken the till out of the register and was counting the money.  She looked up
with a smile-

	"So," she said, counting as she divided her attention between the money
and me, "what did you want to talk about?"  I swallowed-

	"I know."  She glanced up.

	"Know what?" she asked with a curious expression, pausing with a handful
of dollar bills.

	"I know what you did.  I know what you did to me!" I raised my voice and
heard it crack.  I was close to tears from the trauma, but I pressed on.  "I
know all about the hypnosis and the triggers!  Why Sharon?  Why did you do that
to me?"

	Her face darkened as she frowned with a defeated sigh.  She slid her
glasses back down onto her nose and looked me up and down as she returned the
money to the drawer.  She placed the heels of her palms onto the countertop as
she leaned forward-

	"How'd you figure it out?" she asked and I waved my hand, dismissing the
question.

	"That doesn't matter!  I just want you to stop it all.  Take it away! 
Take out the triggers or whatever you have to do and make me normal again!"  I
was almost shouting, and Sharon took a step back as I slammed my hand on the
counter for emphasis-

	"Okay, Billy!  Okay!" she waved me off, looking a little surprised at my
outburst.  Had she thought that I would have enjoyed what she put me through? 
Did she really think that I wanted to be a slave?  I remembered what she had
said to me as I had been bound and gagged in the bathtub as she ran her foot
over my body-

	This is what you like, isn't it?

	"It was just an experiment, Y'know?  I just wanted to see if I could do
it."  She smiled, as though that made it all okay.

	"An experiment?" I shrieked in disbelief!  "Was that all I was?"

	"Of course not."  Sharon folded her arms over her chest.  She almost
seemed to be studying me, like I was a fly pinned to a bug collector's board. 
"I like you, Billy.  Really!  And I know you, well enough to know what you like. 
You're submissive, Billy, and out of all the people I know I figured that you
would be the easiest to practice on.

	

	"Practice?"

	It all became clear then.  She had been after Steve all the time.  She
had been honing her hypnotic skills on me, seeing just what she could get away
with, working towards getting Steve- and his money- under her thumb as well. 
That was why she had taken him.  Sharon was cute, but nowhere near Steve's usual
conquests.  She had been manipulating him as well as me the whole time.

	"You-" I started but just then a guy came out of the back room,
interrupting me.  He was Hispanic, with dark skin and black hair.  He had
muscles I could see under his tight-fitting tee shirt, but he also had a bit of
a belly.  He was bigger than me, and carrying a baseball bat, an excited look on
his face.  I realized then that Sharon must have hit some alarm under the
counter when she had leaned forward.  He stared at me with fire in his eyes but
Sharon glanced back at him, calm and smiling-

	"It's okay, Carlos.  You don't need that.  This is my friend Billy. 
Remember, I told you about him?"

	I saw Carlos grin widely as he lowered the bat.  He stepped up beside
Sharon as she turned back to me with a smile.  I was suddenly nervous.  She was
too calm.  I started to back away-

	"Esclavo!" she said, and my world fell away.

	I fell to my knees, prostrating myself on the grimy, tiled floor in
front of the desk.  I struggled, but found my forehead touching the floor.  I
was totally aware of what I was doing, but there was nothing that I could do to
stop myself.  From the corner of my eye I saw Sharon and Carlos come around from
behind the counter.  Sharon slipped the toe of her dirty leather sneaker up
close to my lips-

	"Lamedura!" she commanded, and somehow I knew what she wanted me to do. 
I did not know Spanish, but I knew that the word she had said meant 'lick', so I
did.  I put my tongue to her shoe, lapping away at the dirt as she spoke-

	"It was easy enough to plant suggestions into your head, Billy.  When we
were going out, you were so submissive already that it was hard to contain
myself.  It was easy to get you relaxed, and simple to get you under my control,
swinging my legs or twirling my hair.  Once I had you under a few times I
started to plant the triggers.  Most were simple commands that sparked you into
fulfilling your submissive fantasies.  I planted a word that would put you
under, and another that would bring you out.  I used sounds too, bells and
whistles, a snap of my fingers.  It really didn't take all that long."  Sharon
pulled one foot back and replaced it with the other.  I kept licking, listening
in shame as she explained what she had done to me, and how.  I could see Carlos
standing off to one side- his legs and feet at any rate- and I could hear his
excited breathing.

	"The hardest part was teaching you Spanish.  Not a lot, but enough that
you would understand a few words and phrases and go under on command.  There are
triggers to free you in Spanish too, but of course you don't know those, and
odds are you won't hear them in casual conversation.  Why Spanish though? 
Because I like to share!  I told my friends here at the cleaners about you,
Billy, and they were intrigued to say the least.  The girls in the back actually
helped me a time or two, calling you on the phone to trigger you.  Speaking of
which,"

	Sharon pulled her feet away and walked back around behind the counter. 
I could see Carlos hesitating, watching, but then he disappeared out of sight as
well.  Sharon had not told me to stop licking, so I remained where I was,
licking the floor in shame-

	"Venir!"

	Sharon ordered me to come, so I did.  I crawled around the counter on
all fours trying to catch up to the two of them.  I could see Carlos up ahead,
trailing behind Sharon as they walked into the back room where the real work at
the cleaners was done.  As I passed through the wide doorway there was a brief
silence.  Soon enough though the room erupted in laughter and I felt my skin
heating up in shame.  There was nothing that I could do though as I crawled over
to where Sharon was standing.  She pointed to the ground at her feet and snapped
her fingers-

	"Calcanar!"  I heeled...

	There was laughter all around as I saw Sharon's coworkers gathering to
get a better look at me.  They were five in all- including Carlos- the three
girls that I had named Crazy, Sexy, and Cool, along with another guy I later
learned was called Juan.  He was tall and skinny with curly black hair and a
shadow of a mustache.  He looked younger than me, in fact they all did.  The
three girls were dressed as usual, Crazy and Cool in denims and tee shirts and
sneakers.  Sexy was wearing a short skirt and tank top that showed off her
breasts and a pair of low-heeled black leather flats.  They were all smiling
down at me, leering at me as I hung my head in shame.

	Sharon started talking to them, no doubt explaining my situation to them
in a mix of Spanish and English.  I heard the group laughing and giggling as I
nuzzled against Sharon's leg.  I was not caught up in any kind of lust, but
there was nothing I could do to break free of the hold that she had put over me. 
I remained kneeling there as she spoke, recognizing my name and a few of the
words that she said, waiting for her next command.  Finally she nudged me away
and I glanced up to find her smiling down at me.  They all were.

	"Desnudar!"

	At Sharon's command I started taking off my clothes; all of them, ass
quickly as I could.  Within seconds I was once again kneeling before the little,
huddled group, but now I was totally naked.

	"Esclavo!" Sharon said again, and I looked to her expectantly.  "Beso su
pies!"  I don't know if she was saying it right, or even knew quite what she was
saying, but I knew what she had ordered.  I crawled to the closest of the group
and started kissing her feet.  Crazy laughed outloud and said something to
Sharon.  Sharon said "Si!", and Crazy laughed again-

	"Lamedura mi botina!"  I started licking her shoe with all my might,
much to her pleasure.  After a time she kicked me away and I repeated my
humiliation at Cool's feet, then Juan's and all the way around the group.  I
eventually ended up at Sharon's feet again when I was ordered to stop.  Sharon
spoke to her friends and I was suddenly hauled to my feet.  Carlos came at me
with a wire clothes hanger, and I thought that I was about to be beaten, but he
just smiled as he unwound the frame and proceeded to wrap the strong metal about
my wrists before me.  I looked helplessly at Sharon, but she just grinned-

	"I have to go, Billy, but you'll be in good hands.  I've told my friends
to have you finish cleaning up, then you're theirs for the night.  Maria says
they're planning a little party to celebrate their new acemila."  I hung my
head.  I was to be their 'beast of burden', their drudge.

	Sharon laughed, as Cool handed me a broom and ordered me to start
sweeping.  Their commands were short and choppy in Spanish- one worded orders,
but I understood.  I started sweeping as they settled in to watch.  All save
Sharon who gathered her things and headed towards the front door.  She handed
Crazy- Maria her keys as she turned a final time-

	"Billy, !ro ro!  Obedecer!"  I whimpered as something clicked in my
head.  I stared after Sharon as she walked away towards the door, gazing
lustfully at her ass and feet.  Maria followed, locking the door behind my
ex-girlfriend, then quickly returning, a wide smile on her face.  She settled in
with the others to watch me work, snapping her fingers to get me going again-

	"Rapido!"  I swept faster...

EPILOGUE:

Six Months Later

I heard the buzzer and trotted over to the door to answer it, still teetering in
my high-heeled shoes at my quickened pace even after all this time.  I smoothed
down my simple gray maid's dress, fluffing out the frilly apron as I went.  I
checked in the mirror by the door that my little cap was still straight on my
head as I reached out and opened the door.

My eyes grew wide as I saw Steve and Sharon on the far side of the threshold. 
It had been months.  Sharon smiled widely upon seeing me- docile and submissive
in my maid's uniform.  I was a bit dusty and dirty from my cleaning, but I was
presentable with smooth legs and a padded bra that gave me a nice little figure. 
I had lost some weight since the last time that I had seen Sharon, and the
hormones had not taken effect fully as yet.  My hair was long enough to hang
below my shoulders though, even with the tight perm, and my lips were shining
with a dark red gloss as I smiled and curtsied-

Steve stared at me speechless.  I saw that he recognized me, but he could not
believe what he was seeing.  I was a far cry from his friend that he remembered
growing up with I was sure.  Crazy, Sexy and Cool had done a miraculous job of
turning me into their sissy maid!

After I had cleaned the Laundromat that night six months ago, Sharon's friends
had bound me and gagged me and stuffed me into a laundry bag, drawing the
strings tight at the top.  They had carried me out to a van (I assumed though I
never saw it), and had driven me to a building somewhere downtown in Manhattan. 
I later learned that I was to be kept in Sharon's old apartment, as she would be
moving in with Steve at our place.  The apartment was apparently in a building
where all of her Spanish friends and coworkers lived.  They had dumped me, bag
and all on the floor of her apartment and my training had begun in earnest that
night.

The three girls had taught me how to act like a girl, and a dog, and a maid.  It
was easy for them with the post-hypnotic suggestions that Sharon had planted in
my brain.  I was taught to clean and cook and basically how to be a good servant
for them and any that they deemed would be my master.  Apparently the whole
building was in on my humiliation as I was passed from apartment to apartment to
learn my new trade, my new position in life.  I was forced to cook and clean for
everyone in the four story apartment building; man or woman, young or old.  I
was beaten on a whim, and forced to satisfy all of my new owners sexually
whenever they wanted.  I was bound and gagged in every position possible,
sometimes left for days on end.  I was raped over and over again until they were
satisfied, both orally and anally as well.  I had licked and kissed every foot
in the building, sucked every cock and licked out every pussy and ass.  I was
trapped by Sharon's imbedded commands, and beaten by my owners.  I was broken-

I hung my head as I had been trained, staring at Sharon and Steve's shoes as I
stepped aside to allow them into the apartment.  Maria was watching from the
sofa and snapped something out in Spanish.  I dropped to my knees and kissed
their feet in greeting.  I heard Steve groan-

"Jesus..."  he gasped and Sharon giggled-

"I told you so.  This is what he wanted all along.  He loves it, don't you
Billy?"  I said nothing, but lapped at Sharon's feet all the harder.

"He's wonderful!" Maria said as she strolled up beside us.  I swiveled about on
my knees to kiss her feet and thank her for the praise.  They all laughed.

Steve crouched down and grabbed a handful of hair, jerking my head up so that I
was forced to look into his face.  I whimpered, worried that he had knocked my
cap loose.  I'd be beaten if he did, later.  I tried to hold back the tears as I
stared helplessly into his face.  I wanted him to save me, but I could not
speak!

"Is this what you want, Bill?" he finally asked sincerely.  I had thought that
Sharon had been grooming him for a similar life as mine, but he seemed fine and
in control.  She had apparently just used her powers of hypnosis to make him
love her.  I guess she wanted a real man in him!

I wondered briefly if Dr. Ellington had looked into my disappearance.  I
wondered if Wade the doorman was still waiting for his weekly extortion.  Did my
parents miss me, or wonder why I never wrote?  I doubted it.  Sharon probably
had all of that figured into her plan to make me a slave.  I nodded at Steve,
forcing a smile.  It was all I could do.  It was what was expected of me now-

"Yes, Sir!" I said meekly, and as soon as he released my hair I bowed down to
lick his boots clean.  I was his slave as much as the rest of them.  It was my
job...

It was my life...

END

Story (c) carnaj

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