The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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...