The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Reflexology:

It’s been a long time since I last wrote for the Archive. I’ve been quite busy lately, and also, there wasn’t any story that I needed to tell urgently enough. But now, I’ve found a story I want to share, so I’m taking a short break from all my obligations to do so. This story offers more or less the same type of fantasy as my previous stories “Foot Massage” and “Foot Massage 2” (although this time it’s ff -fd instead of mf—md). If you like this one you should try reading the others... and viceversa.

The induction part has some aspects in common with “Hot Summer”, by Sara H., my favorite writer in this site, and also to “Tan lines”, by Nick Vegas, which was one of the first stories I read in this archive, and one of the reasons I decided to contribute too.

As always, comments, questions and constructive criticism are welcome here:

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Disclaimer: This is just a piece of fiction. Nobody should try to do this at home. Well, you can massage your friends’ and your couple’s feet, but not if you plan to hypnotize them and turn them into your foot-fetish slaves.

And you know you shouldn’t be reading this if you are a minor or if you live in a country where you shouldn’t be reading this.

Enjoy!
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1.— The phone call

I was just hanging around at home the other day. I don’t have a job because Rick, my boyfriend, made enough for both of us to live comfortably... Well, he is my ex-boyfriend now, I should get used to calling him ex-boyfriend, although at the time he was still my boyfriend... Anyway, I was just hanging around at home when the phone rang. We don’t get that many calls, and when we do, we usually get them on the cell phone. So I was kind of intrigued. Of course, it could be my mom, or Rick’s, but it was an odd moment to make such a call: Wednesday mid-morning, when normal people are working, or doing errands or whatever they should be doing in a Wednesday morning (not hanging around at home, that is).

I crossed the house slowly, thinking it probably was just some opinion poll or an offer to change my phone company. I wanted to give them time to give up on me. But whoever it was, they weren’t giving up. The phone went on ringing for quite a while until I sat on the couch and answered.

“Yes, hello?”

“Hello? Is that Susan... Susan Somerset?", said a female voice at the other side of the line.

“Yes, it’s me”

“Susan! You are not going to guess who I am...”

I’ve always hated this kind of games. If you make a guess, you will probably be wrong and look stupid, and if you don’t make any, the conversation is stuck and there’s no way to escape an awkward situation.

“Well, probably not... I don’t recognize your voice”, I said, trying to end it as soon as possible.

“I’m the Ghost of Christmas past!", she said. There was a silence and then I could hear her laughing.

“Ok, very funny, now cut it out and tell me who you are or I’ll hang up.”

“My little Pigtails, you always had quite a temper!”

Pigtails! Nobody had called me that since... wait a minute, who used to call me that all the time since I decided to wear pigtails to my Driver License test to look cute and adorable...? No, it couldn’t be. Or could it?

“Linda? Linda Yang?”

“That’s just about right”, she said, and she laughed again.

Well, that was a shock! I hadn’t seen Linda since our College years, and that was almost seven years ago! We were best friends in High School, went to the same University, did everything together (we even kissed once, you now, classic drunken “experiment”) and then, suddenly, she decided she wanted to get specialized in physiotherapy, went to a private academy in Los Angeles and, well, I just lost her track... until now!

“Are you still there?", she asked.

“Well... yes, it’s just that... How long has it been?”

“About six years and a half”

“And now... what... are you, are you in town?”

“Yes, just arrived from L.A. I had to look you up in the phone guide and, luckily enough, you were there! Look, I don’t have time now, I have to get to my parents’ house and then there’s some people I need to see. How about having dinner together tonight?”

“Of course, yes!", I answered. “You know, I’m alone at home tonight. Why don’t you come and we catch up while we eat?”

“That sounds perfect! Is seven ok for you?”

I agreed, and told her my address. Oh, and to please bring a bottle of wine.

2.— Dinner and dessert

She was a bit late (just a bit, enough for me to finish my asparagus and goat cheese salad), but when I opened the door I understood what took her so long: she was gorgeus! Well, Linda was always a hottie, with her Asian-american looks and her firm petite body, but tonight she was astonishing. She was wearing a silky black dress with a generous cleavage, and although it wasn’t too tight, you could guess that there wasn’t much more underneath. I felt a little embarrashed myself: I was just wearing jeans, a lousy “I love Connecticut” T-shirt and slippers. I greeted her loudly and hugged her. She was smaller than me, so I had to lean down a bit. She hugged me back and I could feel her small body tremble between my arms.

“Pigtails...", she said, with a smile and some nostalgy in her voice. We stood there, just hugging, for a while.

“Welcome to my place”, I said then, and gave her the “big tour” of my (well, it was ours, Rick’s and mine, at the time) appartment. She approved everything, nodded at every indication and agreed with everything I said. The Linda I remembered was cheekier, she surely would have said something about my red-roses-on-the-wall bathroom. But hey, six years is enough time to change a person, right?

During dinner I was the one to talk, mostly. I told her about how I graduated in Psychology and English, how I worked in a small consult for a while before realizing I was getting too involved with other people’s problems, how I was unemployed right now. I told her about Rick, about how we had met at party, about how much money he made and how much he worked, and the only thing she asked in return was for me to stay at home and take care of everything (“And you are ok with that?” “Well, at first I wasn’t, but now... I’m getting used to it”). I told her about my few friends, about my parents, my idea of getting a cat... Pretty much everything. She listened to me nodding silently most of the time.

We finished the wine and I suggested that we should sit in the couch to continue talking.

“So”, I said, “I’m talking and talking here, but how about you? Where have you been the last six years and a half!?”

“Well”, she started, “you know after we finished College I wanted to specialize in physiotherapy, so I went to a very classy Academy in L.A., where a fat bald guy taught us how to squeeze and turn other people’s muscles. He was supposed to be really good, he was the one to give massages to Richard Gere and stuff, but I felt like I was being scammed. Basically, we were being taught to be nice and gentle and smile to our clients to get big tips. I really felt that was not my place, so I left. I wanted to learn how to heal bodies with my hands, and I wanted to get to the real source of knowledge, and not some Hollywoodland version of it. Now, as you know, I have Asian ancestors, and somehow my granmother was still in contact with them, so I wrote them, and they agreed to take me as their guest.”

“In China?", I asked with surprise. No wonder I had lost track of her...

“South Corea, actually”, she corrected me. “Well, you know, there’s a long tradition of physiotherapy in Asia. Obviously they don’t call it “physiotherapy” there, but anyway... Not only in China, but also in Vietnam, Corea, Thailand... All these techniques are based on the same principle: that there are conections and energies between our body and our mind (or soul, if you wish), connections Western medicine neglects or denies, but which can heal you... or kill you if you don’t take care of them. For example, accuppresure or accupuncture are based on the theory of the ‘chakras’, energy centres in our bodies that control every aspect of our being. I’ve seen people who would be declared terminal in our hospitals get better and live for years thanks to oriental medicine.”

“So”, I said, “You are like an accupuncturist now?”

“Well, more or less. I mean, I know some things about accupressure, but I decided to learn more about reflexology. Do you know what it is?”

“I’ve heard about it, but I’m not quite sure...”

“It’s kind of like accupressure, but it’s based on a different principle. You know, our nervous system is like a tree: its trunk is the spinal cord, and nerves are its branches. So the thing is that all our nerves are conected via the spinal cord, and from there to our brain. Now, in some places of the body, and specially in our soles and hands, we have more nervous sensors than in other, which, thus, are connected to practically every part of your body. So, for example, if you have a pain in your shoulder, it can be cured by pressing the part of your sole that relates to it.”

“And do you believe that?", I asked, skeptically.

“Not only I believe it: I’ve seen it work, I have learnt it and now, well, now I’m a Master at it! And I have a Diploma to prove it!!!”

We both laughed. However, I still had my doubts, and so I told her. She shook her head and bit her lip, and remained silent for a while, lost in thoughts. Then she asked with a smile:

“Do you want me to prove it to you?”

I laughed and she laughed too, a bit nervously. Internally, I remembered that I had had my pedicure done two days before, and shaved my legs that very afternoon, so it was not a bad time to take a foot massage, or whatever it was...

“Yes”, I said with a giggle, “prove it to me and save me from my ignorance”.

“Ok then”, Linda answered, “to do this right I need a few things. First, I need you to change your trousers into something shorter, a skirt or a miniskirt if possible. Also, do you have any massage oil? If not, any moisturizing cream could do. Oh, and it would help if you could put some music on, some chill out or classical music...”

I went to my bedroom and changed my trousers into a miniskirt, and took one bottle of lavander-scented massage oil from Rick’s bedside table. It was the one Rick and I normally used in our foreplay, but I thought he wouldn’t mind... and now I don’t mind if he does. When I got back to the living room, Linda had rearranged the pillows on the couch, which now looked like the couch of a psycotherapist, waiting for the patient. I searched trhough my CDs, and decided to go with a Celtic chill-out compilation my mother had given me as a Christmas present.

“So, I am supposed to lay down, right?”

“Right. Put your head on the pillows, your feet on me lap and try to find a comfortable position. It’s important to be relax, or you could interfere with the nervous communications inside your body”.

I did as she said. Took my slippers off, sat on the couch, laid my feet on her legs and tried to be as relaxed as I could. It was an awkward situation at first, because, well, I was kind of putting my feet in the hands of a person I hadn’t seen for six years. She was an old friend, right, but at that moment she was a total stranger nonetheless.

“You have very beautiful feet”, she said. “You know, with this ‘profession’ of mine, I’ve began to notice and admire feet, and yours are specially well formed. Obviously you take good care of them...”

“Well, thank you, yes, I pedicure them myself and once in a while I go to a nail saloon...”

I heard her open the oil bottle and pour some on her hands, and then I felt her touch on my instep.

“Ok, now I need you to relax, focus on the music and relax. The more you relax, the more pleasurable this experience will be. We are going to stay calm and quite for a minute. I want you to focus on the music and breathe slowly and rythmically.” Her voice was soothing too, soft and deep. I tried doing as she said, relaxing by synchronizing my breathe with the rhythm of the music. Her hands started moving, pressing my whole foot at first, and then focussing in my soles.

She continued talking in a low voice: “So, each part of your sole corresponds to a part of your body. For example, if I do this...", she said, as she pressed a specific point near my ankle, “in fact I’m helping you with your stomach problems”.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. “How do you know?” I had been having acid refluxes lately, and nothing I did seemed to take them away.

“Ssssssh”, she responded. “Relax, honey: as I told you, everything is conected in ways you don’t understand. I don’t have to make you dozens of tests to know your stomach is not right. But it will after this...”

She kept massaging that spot and, slowly, I began to feel a warm sensation in my belly. I don’t know how long she worked on that spot, but when she finished my stomach felt like new.

“Not only that”, she continued. “I’ve noticed that your neck is a bit rigid. Maybe a bad posture while sleeping?”

“Yes, last night”.

“Now, feel this.”

And she passed to a different part of the foot, this time closer in the middle of the sole. And almost instantly, it was like hundreds of tiny fingers were massaging my hurt neck muscles, relieving them from the tension. It felt great. I mentally begged for her to keep doing that, and I let a little moan escape from my mouth. She kept pressing, and I could feel the pain flowing away by the second.

“You know”, I said still with my eyes shut, “if Rick came in right now he wouldn’t like this very much”.

At the very moment I said it, I realized it was unappropriate. Linda stopped massaging my feet. I opened my eyes, and saw that she was looking at me with a weird expression in her face: I couldn’t say if it was embarrassment, dissapointment or surprise.

“What do you mean?", she asked.

“Well”, I said while trying not to blush too vividly, “you know. Remember that scene from Pulp Fiction, when Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson are talking about foot massages... If they mean something... erotic... or not?” Linda was silent. “But they don’t, right? It’s just that Rick is a bit... overprotective with me. He feels threatened by anything. But a foot massage is a just foot massage after all, right?”

“Right”, Linda answered, as she resumed her gentle pressure on my sole. And there was some bitterness in her voice when she added: “However, this is not a foot massage: this is reflexology”.

“Yes, reflexology, right, I’m sorry”, I said, and tried to relax once again.

Suddenly, there was a change in Linda’s manoeuvres: she placed both my feet together and started pressing more firmly, reaching deeply into my skin. It was near painful, but not quite there yet. Then she started talking again with her sweet deep voice:

“As I told you before, Asian medicine belives that everything is conected: every part of your body is conected, but there’s also a conection between your body and your mind. That means that, if I do this”, as she pressed the same area in both soles, “I can make you feel cold as if it were winter and you were walking outside with nothing but a shirt on”.

At first I didn’t feel anything. And then, as her fingers run in circles through my feet, I started to feel really cold. I pressed my arms against my chest, and rubbed them, but it didn’t work. Soon, I was shivering.

“Please, stop it!", I told her. She laughed and stopped rubbing. The cold sensation stopped immediately.

“Ok, ok, don’t worry, I won’t do that again. That was just to prove that this was no ordinary foot massage”.

As warmth came back to my members, I saw that Linda had a devilish smile in her face. Why I didn’t take my feet away from her lap, I don’t know. If I was to do it, that was the last chance I had. But I didn’t do anything. I just laid there, like a submissive subject to her games.

“You know what else?", she said, shaping her hands in a different position and pressing four different points in both my feet. “There’s a combination of pressure points called ‘The way to truth’ by my masters. If you press all these points of a person’s sole at the same time, as I’m doing right now, you get direct access to their brain through their dorsal spine”.

As she said that, she was pressing differente areas of my sole and rubbing them in circle. Suddenly, I felt dizzy, like when you get up too fast and you want to sit down again.

“What...", I tried to say, but I couldn’t think straight. I felt her fingers in my soles, and it was like a musical chords: the sensations she was causing in my skin seemed to resound inside my nervous system, and by the time they reached my brain they were like a roared that clouded all possibility of rational thought.

“What I mean is that with this special position... or ‘massage’, if you will, all rational barriers are removed, and your unconcious mind is open for me. You cannot think for yourself, and everything I say is revealed truth for you. Don’t you agree?”

My head was going in circles, and her voice seemed to echo inside my head.

“I... agreee”, I said weakly.

“Of course you do. Because you know I’m right. I’m always right. I speak truth. I know what’s best for you. You trust me in everything I say, and you follow my suggestions, but not because I force you too, but because I’m right.”

Her voice had replaced my own concious mind. I didn’t even try to resist.

“I... follow your suggestions”.

“Yeah you do. From now on, even if I’m not pressing your feet this way, the doors of your mind are open for me, and you will obbey me, because you want to obbey, don’t you?”

“I want... to obbey”

“And you will believe what I say, because I speak truth, right?”

“Right”.

I had my eyes fixed on the ceiling. But all I could see, all I could think off, was her voice, her commands, her suggestions, the fact that she was always right and that for the rest of my life I would follow all her orders. She laughed and relieved the pressure on my feet. My mind slowly started to regain its focus.

“That’s fine, honey. You see how nice reflexology is? And you know what else I can do with your feet? If I press them like this”, she said as she pressed another spot, “you will probably start to feel sad and sorry for yourself...”

I didn’t know what she meant. I felt ok. I felt calm and even happy. But a few seconds later I realized that she is in fact always right. Suddenly, a wave of self-pity started to flow through my mind.

“Yes, you feel sad. And you have reasons to feel sad, really. I mean, look at you. What have you got after thirty years of life? You don’t have a job, you don’t have children, you don’t have any friends... You are a complete mess.”

My thoughts were getting darker and darker. She was right! I was a complete loser. I had failed in everything: I hadn’t fulfilled any of my dreams, and I had deceited everybody, and everybody was abandonning me. I felt tears starting to form in my eyes.

“Yes, that’s right, you have no reason to live, no reason to go on, no reason to love yourself”.

I wanted to die. I wanted it to end right there.

“You are so desperate and so in need of love, that you even considered the pathetic idea of owning a pet. A pet!”, she added with contempt.

She was right again. A cat! How could I be so pathetically desperate, and not even realize it until now?

“And you know whose fault it is that your life is so pathetic?", she asked, and without waiting for me to answer she pressed my feet between my toes, and answered herself: “It’s Rick. Well, not just Rick: men in general”.

I felt how sadness was leaving place to anger. Suddenly, all my life was illuminated with a different life. Linda was talking truth: “When you were in College, your boyfriends used to shag you and leave you, and then tell everybody how slutty you were. That’s why you have such a low opinion of yourself”.

Her fingers were pressing harder and harder on my toes. It was painful now, but I didn’t care. I had bigger issues on my mind. Men!

“And Rick? How about Rick? He is holding you back, because he is jealous of you. You are more intelligent, you are beautiful and talented, but he is keeping you here, just for himself. And you know why?” I shook my head to say ‘no’. I couldn’t even speak: the pain from my toes and the anger were increasing at the same time. Tears were now rolling down my cheeks, but now I was crying because I was furious, furious with Rick and with everything men had done to me in my life.

“You have enough reasons to be angry”, she said. And I WAS angry. “You have enough reasons to hate men”. I HATED men. “In fact, it wouldn’t be strange if you decided that you are done with men...”

“I...", I tried to enunciate through my tense teeth, “I’m done... with men”.

“That’s a good decision now”, Linda approved, “and you know what else?” Her fingers changed again, and now they wer softly but firmly caressing my sole up and down again. “You will soon feel really relieved with your decision. In fact, you feel happy for the first time in the last, what, six years and a half? Exactly since we were together for the last time?”

She was absolutely right. I had just decided to leave Rick, to leave men in general, and I felt deeply relieved. All the clouds from the last minutes seemed to dissapear from my mind, and suddenly I was looking at a clear sky with only one image on it: Linda.

“I’m here with you, and you are purely happy”, Linda was saying. “You needed me and I’ve crossed the world to save you... from men.”

I was still crying, but now I was in pure bliss. I looked down at my feet, and I saw the face of Linda, my friend, my angel. I couldn’t stop sobbing and crying.

“That’s right. I’m here with you and I’m not going to leave you. Never again. We are meant to be together. You can only be happy with me”.

It was true. I remembered our days together in college, and they really seemed the best days of my life. Because she was there. Then there was hell with Rick and the others, until she came back. She came back to save me... A nervous laughter invaded me, as I tried to clean the tears from my face. Linda released my sole again.

“Now, sssssshh, relax again, my Pigtails, relax, relax”.

Her hands went back to their first position, pressing my instep, and little by little I felt all those emotions slowly flowing away, and leaving me exhausted but profoundly happy.

And then, after a minute, she poured some more lotion on her hands and her fingers started pressing my feet again. This time lightly, almost ticklishly, sexily I would say.

“Do you remember that time that we kissed?”

“Yes”, I answered. My breathe was going back to normal, my body was relaxed, my mind was open. Her pressure on my sole was doing something, but I couldn’t yet tell exactly what. I tried to focus on her words and her touch at the same time.

“How do you remember it?”

Suddenly, it was again hard for me to concentrate. Linda’s touches on my feet were now sending warm pleasurable sensations up through my legs and throughout my whole body. Like tiny licks in my pussy. It was like before, when she treated my neck, although now it wasn’t just my neck, it was every inch of flesh in my body being treated by those tiny fingers.

“I... remember that we were in our dorm... It was after a party and... mmmmmh... we had had a bit too much to drink. We were playing and ticking and, suddenly, you were over me and... mmmmmh... you kissed me. Then I pushed you away and… I… fell asleep”.

“Well, my little Pigtails”, Linda said, while her fingers focused on the fleshy part of the sole just by the toes. “It looks like you’ve blocked some things out of that memory”.

“What do you mean?” Heat was increasing inside my skin. I could feel how my pussy was starting to get wet under my panties.

“Well, it was after a party, we had had something to drink, and then we kissed... But we didn’t stop there”.

“We didn’t?” It was hard to tell, it was hard to remember. My body was reacting on its own to Linda’s caresses on my feet. I had to refrain from pressing my hands against my crotch.

“No, we didn’t. And you know why? Because we desired each other. That’s right. I wanted you and you wanted me back. It was making us crazy. Why else would we kiss? Why else would you be as aroused as you are right now?”

Of course, it made sense. My clit was pulsing with her caresses: it was just like if my feet were an extension of my vagina. I was turned on by her mere touch, by here mere presence.

“So”, she continued. “We kissed. And we kissed again. And your pussy was as wet as it is now. And I pressed and kissed your tits...”

My hands started rubbbing my breasts and pinching my nipples. I couldn’t think, I was just like a puppet reacting to her words. My nipples were erect, and whenever Linda touched my sole, it felt like it was her who was biting my tits.

“And then I licked your pussy”

My hand pressed my pussy and rubbed it in circles from side to side. Linda’s finger was doing the same thing on my sole. Pressing, caressing, now softly, then more firmly, and I responded, and pleasure came coming from my feet.

“And we continued to fuck each other’s pussy with our hands”

My hand went into my very wet pussy as far as it could. Linda’s movements were now longer and deeper, from my ankle to my toes, and my hand was again imitating that movement, inside and outside of my pussy, thrusting myself. Whenever Linda touched my toes, my clit spasmed, and a shock of pleasure exploded inside me.

“But it still wasn’t enought for you. And that’s when you told me”.

“Told you… what?” I moaned and tried to keep the rhythm of the caresses on my pussy with the rhythm of Linda’s pressures on my feet. Waves and waves of warm pleasure were running thtough my muscles. I thought I was about to come, but for some reason orgasm never seemed to come.

“You told me about your foot fetish”.

I have a foot fetish!

“You told me that you have a foot fetish and that your feet are the most sensible part of your body”.

I have a foot fetish.

“You told me that’s why your relations with men were never absolutely satisfying”.

That’s why, of course!

“So I rubbed your feet, just like I’m doing now. Because your feet are like a clit for you. Your feet are like giant clits. Like big hypersensible clits. In fact, your feet are your main erogenous zone”.

She was right again. Suddenly, I realized that my pussy wasn’t responding to my caresses any more. Instead, my feet were vibrating just like my pussy was doing before.

“And then you asked me to do this”, Linda said, and then she started licking my toes, one by one, and the pleasure I was feeling was lifted up to another level. Each caress of her tongue, I felt it inside my mind, inside my pussy, in my clit, in my nipples, everything at the same time. The thousand tiny fingers were now caressing my very centres of pleasure and my mind was buzzing.

Linda was worshipping my feet in all their extension. Whenever she pressed an area of my sole, a part of my body was touched by ecstasy, and I couldn’t know where the next wave of pleasure would begin. I was in heaven. I was in hell. Linda’s tongue was licking every inch of my feet, and it was like being washed by an angel’s touch. Even breathing was hard for me at that point. Linda inserted my left foot in her mouth -all the toes, and as far as she could get with her tongue—, and my own hand moved an inch further inside my sex, and it was like a giant cock entering my vagina, only better, because this cock seemed to be moist and tender, and to adapt to every fold of my pussy, caressing it from the inside. I begged her to do it again, and groaned when she did. I was being fucked by a million tongues.

“But then again”, Linda said when she was done licking it, “you told me even that was not enough for you. And that the only way you could come was if I let you insert your foot inside my pussy, and fuck you with my own in exchange.

Yes! I remembered now (or I least, I thought I remembered, everything was very confusing). As she had said, Linda took my feet and directed it to her pussy. I was trembling with anticipation. At the same time, she offered my her high heeled foot. With shaky hands, I took her shoe off and feverishly pressed her bare foot against my crotch. When Linda inserted my foot into her pussy, I thought I would die, I thought I would explode with pleasure. And then again when she inserted her own foot inside me, with her toes playing inside me, I thought pleasure would tear me apart. It was true: my foot was like a big clit, each toe was like a clit, my whole sole was another clit. Linda was skillfully turning her foot and her toes inside my vagina, pushing further and further, and moving my own foot back and forth at the same time. The sensations on my foot were mirrored by the ones inside my pussy, and I couldn’t distinctively say which ones were causing my to twist, turn and arch a few inches away from orgasm.

Before I realized, I was focusing only in my feet. Linda’s movements and pressures on the other foot compelled me to do so. Now, every aspect of me depended on my feet. My mind was on my feet. My pussy was on my feet. With every new insertion into Linda’s sex, the caresses I was feeling in my skin and in my mind grew stronger. I could do nothing but scream. Her toes were reaching for my G-spot, and my on toes WERE like G-spots. Linda kept pressing. I couldn’t breathe, I only wanted this to never end.

Linda grabbed my other foot, and pressed it into her mouth, licking it furiously. The sensations inside my mind suddenly became more intense, and the only way I can explain it is that for a moment I was gifted with a second pussy, and both of them were being fucked at the same time.

And then I heard Linda talking again: “We had an… orgasm… at the same time…” That was more than I could resist. All the enegy that had been concentrating on my feet seemed to explode. It started in my feet: warm, tensing all my muscles, arching my back. When it reached my pussy, with Linda’s feet still thrusting and caressing it deeply, there was a second explosion of pleasure, and I exhaled a long loud groan. Then it reached my breasts, and my nipples felt like pinched by a hundred wamr needles, and then it run down my arms, and it went into my head, washing away all my thoughts, washing away all my previous memories, and placing itself in the center of everything, in the center of my life, in the center of my pleasure. I felt my body spasming, up and down, like an electric shock. It lasted longer than I can describe. All I could think of was my feet being caressed and kissed and licked, and with every image a new wave of pleasure shook me. When I thought I was about to pass out, it slowly began to move away, until it was just a small tinckle in my toes, that sent me a last vibration through my spine.

Linda slowly took my foot out of her pussy, and hers out of mine, and sat by my side on the couch. She was breathing heavily and her face was blushing. I was panting, I couldn’t even focus my sight. I felt feverish, and my body wouldn’t stop shaking.

“You see, that’s how it happened that night”. (That’s how it happened, obviously). “And since then, you haven’t been able to reach orgasm until now, because only when I touch your feet you get to cum. You knew it, and you have been waiting for this moment all your life, right?”

“Right”

“Because that’s how it’s supposed to be: I’m the only one who knows about your fetish, I’m the only one who can touch your feet, so I’m the only one who can bring you to orgasm”.

“You... are... the only one”

“Because we love each other”

“We love... each other”

“And that’s how it’s supposed to be”, she ended.

“That’s how... it’s supposed... to be”.

I felt Linda standing up and leaving the appartment, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even open my eyes or say goodbye to her. When I fall asleep, her last words were still echoing in my head and my lips: “We love each other, and that’s how it’s supposed to be”.

3.— Epilogue

The day after that night, when Rick called from Detroit (or Baltimore or Boston or wherever) I told him that we weren’t a couple any more. That I had realized how much he was holding me back, and that I needed to breathe and have a life on my own. He was shocked. He didn’t understand. “Of course you don’t understand, you chuavinist moron!! You don’t even know how to make me cum!!", I shouted, and I hanged. I left the appartment two days later, and I never even got to see him again. I didn’t need to. I was better off without him.

For example, with him I was just a housewife: now, I have a job on my own. I work as an assistant and secretary for Linda. She opened a Podal Reflexology clinic just a few days after she arrived to the city. During those first days she offered free foot massages to the most important businessmen in town, to prove them what she could do, and apparently she was just so very good at it that they gave her the premises, the job and the references to get it rolling!

Oh, and Linda and I are now a couple. I wonder how it took me so long to realize that our little flirting in College was not a “little flirting”: we are in love, we were in love all the time, I only needed a little push to accept it.

Finally, I feel like I’m in total control of my life. Now, I have to go to work. If I do everything right, maybe Linda will agree to give me one of her special foot massages... sorry, “reflexology sessions”. I would do anything to get one of those right now.

Anything!