The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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 décor 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...”