The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Foot Soldier

Author’s note: It has been a long time since I posted my last story for the archive; if I have come back, it is because not many people write foot fetish + mind control stories in here, so I felt it was my duty to fill this niche. This story is longer than usual for me, and it is a “slow burn”: it slowly builds up towards the final mind control scene. I hope it isn’t too morose for you, and I hope that it is worth the wait.

If you find any orthographical or grammatical mistake, or if you just want to share your (positive or negative) opinion with me, please email me at

Enjoy!

Agent Christine Teller had clear orders: she had to infiltrate the terrorist organization known as The Syndicate, get to the person on the very top, whose identity was unknown, and then destroy them and their organization from within. The first part of the plan had worked perfectly: thanks to the information previously gathered by other agents, with great risk and even with the loss of some lives, The Syndicate recruited her as a weapon expert, and her own abilities and intelligence allowed her to climb up the ladder until she was, or so she thought, one of the key pieces in the organization.

Christine had many useful skills and qualities that would help her fulfil her tasks: she was highly intelligent, with a particular ability to understand and manipulate people through a deep knowledge of their psychological traits; she was in fact very knowledgeable in many fields, such as weapons, drugs and explosives; she had a very detailed file with intel about The Syndicate, with all the information gathered in the previous years (in fact, it could be said that she was the person who knew most about the Syndicate in the world, second only to the mastermind himself)...

And she was hot too: she was 1,75 meters tall, blonde with blue eyes and sensual lips, and a body full of sinuous curves in just the right places. She knew that she was hot, and she used it to her advantage whenever it was needed. Many of her adversaries in the past had been men, and many of them had been defeated by her sexuality, which allowed her to control them, manipulate them, and make them take the wrong decisions which would take them to their doom. Sex was a weapon, and she was not afraid to use it—and she also enjoyed using it: she was not a nymphomaniac per se, but her sexual drive was way above average, she was even too sexually aggressive for many men.

Christine had been inside the Syndicate for two years now, and she was starting to get worried; she was in charge of all the weapon smuggling activities of the Syndicate, and she also organized the manpower of the organization; if she wanted to, she could give her agency the names, addresses and personal details of all the members of the Syndicate, except for the few ones above herself. But what was the use? She knew that the Syndicate had the power, the means and the intelligence to gather new members in a very short time, and her cover would be useless after that. She had to get to the top herself. It was just not happening, and she was getting worried...

And then one day, everything changed.

Christine was still in bed when her phone rang; it was a special phone that was only used for her communications with Mr. B., it got renewed every week and was therefore practically untraceable.

“Hello, honey”, said Christine as a joke.

“Gather all your belongings and get ready”, Mr. B. answered in a neutral tone. “A car will pick you up in an hour. Everything you leave behind will be destroyed”.

“Where am I going”, she asked, but he had already hung up.

She considered her options: she had no time to send a message to the agency, and she was probably being watched by the Syndicate, so she could not make any suspicious movements. If she disobeyed, she could lose the trust of the Syndicate, and therefore the opportunity to complete her mission. No, she had to do as ordered, and hope for the best; she had to trust herself and survival instincts. She put some of her clothes, her make-up and her jewellery inside a suitcase, and waited.

Exactly one hour after the phone call, a black car with tinted glasses stopped in front of her door; she got out of the house, opened the door of the car and entered. Mr. B. was already inside.

“Did you take all your belongings with you?”, he asked, without even saying hello.

“Well, yes, most of them”, she answered.

“Ok, then”.

The car started moving forward, and a few seconds later Christine heard a explosion that made the windows of the car tremble. She didn’t have to ask: her house didn’t exist anymore; they would probably cover it as a gas leak, maybe even put the corpse of a girl her age among the ruins to fake her dead. Whatever happened, she no longer had a life: she belonged to the Syndicate completely.

“Where are we going”, she asked, but Mr. B. didn’t even bother to answer.

“Aren’t you going to blindfold me, so that I cannot retrace my way?”, she asked with an ironic grin, to mask the fact that she was genuinely surprised.

“It doesn’t matter that you know where we are going; you are never leaving anyway”, Mr. B. answered, with his usual robotic tone.

What did that mean? Were they going to kill her? Did they know that she was an infiltrated agent? Or did it just mean that she would live in that place for the rest of her life?

Her unrest got even bigger when she realized that they were entering the street where her agency had its main office. And the car kept getting closer and closer to it... It was so close that Christine got worried that the security guard outside the door would recognize her; but then the driver turned left and they entered a garage on the building just opposite her agency. Of course, it was brilliant! Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer!

The car kept going down for a long time, until it finally stopped in front of a steel door. Mr. B. and Christine left the car and entered, and he showed him to a room that looked like a fancy hotel room: a big bed, a big closet, and an ensuite bathroom.

“This is your house now”, Mr. B. announced. “Get used to it”.

And then he left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

“How do you like your new living arrangements?”

Christine had problems answering the question; she still couldn’t believe that this moment had finally come. She was speaking directly with the boss, the big boss, the brilliant mastermind who was behind one of the most dangerous and powerful organizations in the history of mankind.

It all had been a bit anticlimactic: a few hours after she arrived to her room, Mr. B. had knocked on the door. “Mr. A. is waiting for you”, he said, unceremoniously.

So she had accompanied him, and they had entered a big office, with a couple of big sofas and a huge desk, with dark paintings of old people on the walls and a Turkish carpet on the floor.

“I said, how do you like your new living arrangements?”

Christine tried to mask her nervousness and adopt her usual ironic attitude. “Well”, she said, “I have slept in worse places, believe me. But if I have complaints I will let you know”.

“Good, good”, Mr. A. said with a deep chuckle. “I have a feeling that you and I are going to work together very well”.

Christine smiled but didn’t reply. She was using this opportunity to examine Mr. A. He was quite a tall man, maybe 1,80 tall, with wide shoulders, which were accentuated by a straight jacket. He was tanned and fit, and he was positively charming; there was something about his crooked smile that made her think that his brain was working at top speed all the time. Christine could not deny (and didn’t want to deny, in fact) that Mr. A. was an attractive man; she knew, there and then, that she was going to sleep with him, because it was part of her plan to take him down, but also because she had began wondering how that body looked under those clothes.

Of course, there was a chance that this guy was a decoy; maybe he was not the real Mr. A., or maybe he was Mr. A., but there was a Mr. Zero above him... She had to be careful and make sure before taking any action; and yet, her instincts told her that this was him, that he was talking to the big man himself.

“I know it has been all very sudden”, Mr. A. continued, “but we have to be careful; I guess you understand. We cannot leave any trace behind, we cannot let anyone follow you to us. Your life outside these premises is over, you will do your work from here, you will conduct your operations from here, you will not have any contact with the outside world. If you need anything from outside, talk to Mr. B.: he is our messenger, our butler, and our secretary, all rolled into one.”

“I see, so I better get used to this walls”, Christine said.

“Indeed”, Mr. A. replied, winking at her.

“Do I get my own office, at least?”

“Of course, you will have an office with everything you could need and more”

“How about a gym”

“There is no gym, but we can install some machines in your room if you want”

“And doesn’t it get boring, being stuck in here all day? What do you do for fun around here?”, Christine asked, with a flirty smile.

“Oh, don’t worry”, he replied, “we have our fun. We definitely have our fun”. And then he winked at her again.

“Please, come with me”, Mr. B. said, coming out of the shadows behind her.

Christine and Mr. A. shook hands, smiling at each other, and then she left with Mr. B., who showed her around the premises. She saw laboratories, and offices, and garages, and many rooms similar to her own, distributed in long corridors that appeared to have no end. She didn’t see any elevators or stairs; it all seemed to be on the same floor, expanding horizontally under the city; a good metaphor of the Syndicate itself, which had created an underground web of crime and power.

When the guided tour finished, Christine was escorted to her room, and left alone for the rest of the day. She finished unpacking, took a shower and went to bed, exhausted. In her dreams, she saw the face of Mr. A., winking at her.

* * *

The next few days were frantic. Christine was given almost full access to the premises, she was allocated in one of the biggest offices and three assistants were assigned to her. Her office was personalized following strictly her every instruction and she was allowed to have direct access to all her subordinates at any time of day, by using their own personalized mobile phones (which were, just like hers, exchanged every week).

Everything was efficient, effective and friendly; so much so, that for a while she almost forgot while she was really there. But she was no member of the Syndicate, she was an agent, deployed to end the Syndicate, and she had a mission to accomplish.

At least her new duties allowed her to spend some time with Mr. A. and observe him. She knew that she must have a weak spot, a weakness that could be exploited, some way to manipulate him, control him, dominate him and bring him to justice.

One thing was undeniable: there was chemistry between them. They would spend some time working together, and then stay chatting after the job was finished, maybe open a bottle of wine or whisky... It was partially a war of wills and partially a dance of seduction; in any case, the end of the road was clear: at some point, they would end up in bed together.

For most men, that would be the point when they became dependant on Christine; their will would be broken by Christine’s dominant attitude, by her sexual hunger and her psychological skills. Soon they would crave Christine’s body any waking moment, they would do anything to please her and to keep her happy; like a succubus, she would fuck them to submission and obedience.

But with Mr. A., it was clearly going to take something more than that.

One night, they stayed talking longer than usual, and they drank more than usual. Christine could hold her liquor well, but she could feel her inhibitions getting lowered by alcohol. So when he winked at her for the third time after making a cheeky remark about her mini-skirt, she didn’t resist her urges and jumped towards him to kiss him.

It was a deep, passionate kiss, charged with all the sexual tension that had been accumulated in the previous days. She could feel that he wanted it too; in fact, she could feel her cock pressing against her thigh through his trousers. Before she knew, he had ripped her blouse off; she reciprocated by unzipping her pants and grasping her dick with her hand.

“Wait”, he said, “not here”.

He pushed one of the shelves behind his desk, and a secret door open, leading to a bedroom with a big bed in the middle. They entered and the door closed behind them.

They continued ripping each other’s clothes off. He took her bra off while she undid his belt; he kicked his shoes off; she unzipped her skirt. She was going to take her panties off, but he pushed her to the bed, and did it himself, pulling them all the way down with a single brutal move. Then she started biting her, on her toes, her soles, her ankles, up her legs to her thighs. By the time he arrived to her hips, she was moaning already.

“Wait”, she said, “not yet”.

She rolled on the bed to put herself on top; now it was her turn. She pushed her boxers down his legs and grabbed the cock hard between her fingers and started stroking it, but not too hard, she didn’t want him to finish. She pinched his nipples, she bit his neck, she thrusted her wet pussy against his leg and kept moaning.

“This feels so good”, she moaned.

“Fuck yes”, he answered.

They rolled once more and now he was on top. He could not wait any longer; she didn’t want him to wait any longer. Guiding himself with his hand, he pushed himself inside her, slowly and cautiously at first, and harder and deeper once he realized that she was wet and ready for him. She pressed her legs against his waist, pushing him deeper and deeper inside her, groaning with every thrust.

It seemed to last for hours, in every position, using every technique, every part of their bodies to give each other pleasure. He came with a groan, but she wanted more; they started it all again, from the beginning, with new variations. She lost count of the orgasms he had given her, with his tongue, his fingers, his dick, his tongue again... He came once more, and yet she was not satisfied, so they started it all again, once more...

By the end of the night, the bed was dripping with sweat and semen and other fluids.

Normally, after such a fight with her, men would fall asleep immediately, with a blissful smile on their faces, and that was the beginning of their defeat. But when she turned to look at Mr. A., she found him completely awake, with her eyes wide open and the same ironic grin as always in his face.

“I hope I didn’t work you too hard”, he said, winking his eye, as usual.

“Oh, not at all, I could have kept going but I saw that you were starting to lose rhythm...”

“Yeah, yeah, of course”, he said, with a chuckle. “Well, you should probably go sleep in your room, I wouldn’t want other employees to see you here...”

Christine felt hurt, but didn’t show it; she got dressed, kissed Mr. A. one last time and left for her room. She felt that she had failed, but she didn’t know if she felt it as a woman, or as an agent.

* * *

Those were strange days for Christine. On the one hand, she was successful: she was inside the Syndicate, she had been able to locate their premises and to meet the mastermind behind it all, which was much more than any of the previous agents had managed to get. And she had done much more than just meeting Mr. A.: she was regularly fucking him, almost every night, and for several hours.

And yet, she was still far from completing her mission, which required her to know every detail about the Syndicate: the real names of all its members, including that of Mr. A., the secret bank accounts, the lists of politicians, judges, bankers and policemen who had been corrupted by the Syndicate. And in order to do that, she needed to break Mr. A., a task that was proving to be impossible.

After each of their sessions of love-making, Christine observed Mr. A. in search for any sign of weakness, physical, psychological or emotional. But there was none. He could fuck her for hours, and yet look fresh as a teenager after a light workout session, alert and ready to go back to work if necessary, and with no emotional attachment to her whatsoever.

One day, after she had finished riding him like a wild animal, she looked at him flickering her eyes like a young bride, and asked him: “Do you love me?”

“No”, he answered, without even hesitating. “A person in my position cannot love anybody; that would be a weakness”.

It looked like Christine had met her match: someone who was as intelligent, as sexually aggressive and as emotionally detached as she was.

“Be careful, Christine”, she thought to herself, “or you will end up being controlled by him”.

And then, one day, Mr. A. made a terrible and definitive mistake.

That day, Christine was specially frustrated; she had coordinated an operation of weapon smuggling in the Middle East that would probably cost hundreds if not thousands of lives in the future. She was losing track of why she was doing what she was doing, and it was starting to get to her.

Mr. A. called her to his office, she wanted to congratulate him personally on her success. He probably wanted to fuck her too, but she was just not in the mood.

“So, tell me about your last successful operation”, said Mr. A. as he entered the room.

“Well, it’s nothing. Business as usual”, she answered, irritated.

“Come on, don’t be modest. I want to hear it all...”

She started telling him everything about her contacts in Iraq and Afghanistan and Lebanon, and how the Syndicate was selling weapons to all the parts of the conflicts in those countries, and she detailed all the contracts and all the amounts of guns and rockets and tanks and millions of dollars...

As she talked, without even noticing, out of pure frustration she started flicking her shoe in and out of her dangling foot. (Apart from all her other attractive qualities, Christine also had beautiful, long feet with high arches and long toes; very sensitive feet too, she loved having them massaged and kissed and sucked, she could have an orgasm just by having her feet properly handled).

And when Christine looked up towards Mr. A., he saw an expression in his face that she had never seen before: an absent expression of introspection or confusion. His eyes had lost their sparkle of intelligence, her mouth no longer showed her usual ironic grin.

Christine tried not to show her excitement in her voice, although her heart was beating at a crazy rate. Was that it? Was that Mr. A.’s weak spot? She kept talking as if nothing happened, as if she had not noticed anything, and carefully, almost imperceptibly, she started swinging her foot from left to right, and she saw that his eyes followed it, transfixed.

She mentally reviewed all the time they had made love in the past few weeks; she had a photographic memory, so it was like playing a movie in her mind. Yes, she was sure: in every instance, every time they fucked, she had found the way of kissing, biting or grabbing her feet. Two or three times he had even cum on her feet, but he had cum almost on every part of her body too, so she had not take note of that particularly.

And yet, by the way he was looking at her foot right now, almost drooling over it, it was obvious that he had a massive foot fetish, and that he had been doing a great effort to hide it during their love-making sessions. Her admiration for him got even higher: such will power, being able to hide such a strong fetish!

She smiled to herself and felt a rush of excitement run through her body. That was it! She had found it! The way inside her psyche, the way to control him, the way to destroy him!

With the same indifferent tone of voice, she finished her speech about the operation, and then asked: “What do you think?”

“Hm?”, he asked, coming out of his trance.

“What do you think? Did I did good?”

“Oh, you did great. Great”, he replied, recovering his usual expression of self-control.

“Good”, she said, “I am happy”. And it was absolutely true.

That night she was invited to his room again, and she accepted. She wanted to test her theory. Without making it too obvious, she made sure that her bare feet were available for his enjoyment; and she saw that he took almost every chance he could to play with them, press them against his mouth, his groin, his chest. It was subtle, he made it seem like it was a natural consequence of the movements of their bodies, but now that she knew, it was obvious: he was turned on by her feet, he wanted her feet, he needed her feet.

So she would use her feet to enslave him.

This time she came stronger than ever. “Yes, yes, yes!!!”, she screamed, and he took it as a compliment.

That night, she didn’t mind being send back to her room after sex: she had a lot to think about, she had a lot of work to do. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

When she got to her room, she took a long, hot shower, not only because she wanted to be awake and alert, but also because she wanted to create a good fog of steam.

She suspected that the Syndicate had cameras inside her room, and she needed privacy for what she was about to do.

She opened her make-up kit, unscrewed the bottom of her hairspray and extracted three cylinders of chemical compounds that she had hidden in there for occasions such as these one. Separately, these compounds were harmless; when put together, they created a stronger version of sodium penthotal, a potent truth serum designed to lower the psychological defences, causing confusion and leaving the subject more open to suggestions and conditioning. She then mixed the new compound with a neutral paste, which made it look like a gel or a hand-cream. When she was ready with the result, she put it all in an innocent-looking jar and left it near the sink for future use.

Christine had trained herself to tolerate this specific compound: by applying more and more of it on herself during the past few years, she was by now completely immune to its effect, even in concentrations much higher than the one on the jar. She just hoped that Mr. A. hadn’t done the same thing for some reason...

All she could do now was wait to be summoned by Mr. A., and hope for the best. It was the decisive moment of her mission.

She didn’t have to wait long. On the next day, she spent the day supervising the next operation from her computer, and after having a light dinner in her office, she went back to her room. Less than five minutes later, Mr. B. knocked on her door.

“Mr. A. would like to see you now, please.”

She pretended to be annoyed, and shouted through the door: “Ok, ok, give me five minutes to get ready and change into some new clothes!” She went into the bathroom, changed into a black dress that showcased her legs, and then, still feigning to be annoyed for the benefit of the people behind the cameras, she applied the chemical mixture in the jar to her hands, and specially to her feet, all over her soles, toes and ankles, as if it were a common moisturising cream for dry skin. Then she put on a pair of open sandals, and walked to the door.

Mr. A. was waiting for her in his office. He welcomed her with a smile.

“Wow, you look especially elegant today”, he said.

“Yes, I wanted to dress up for once... There are so few occasions to do it in here... Do you like it?”

“Oh, I do! I like it very much”.

She turned around, offering him a view of her body, which was only highlighted by the tight dress pressing against her curves. When she finished turning, she caught a glimpse of him looking down to her feet and to her sandals, which showed her bare toes and her high arches.

“Well”, he said, clearing his throat, “you probably have realized that you have been with us for three months today... I thought it was a good moment to review your performance... so to speak”, he continued, adding one of his signature winks in the end.

“Of course, of course”, Christine replied, leaning on the sofa in front of him, in a matter that seem casual but that she knew that would allow for a perfect view of her dangling foot.

“Well”, he began again, trying to hide the boner that had began to form inside his trousers, “I think you have done a marvellous job integrating yourself in our organization”.

He kept talking, and she kept listening and nodding from time to time, although her main attention was somewhere else: she was deciding the best strategy, the best way to apply the truth serum on him without making him suspicious, and then make him her foot slave for good.

When she finished talking, she got up from the sofa and said cheerfully: “Then is all good news, isn’t it? I am happy that you are happy”.

And then casually, as if driven by enthusiasm, she got to him and gave him a long and close hug, placing one of her hands behind her neck. That way, she was applying a first dose of the serum through her hands, and directly into his spine and cerebellum, for a quicker absorption. She just stayed there for a little while, pressing her chest against his, her cheek against his, long enough for the serum to be effective, but not so much that it would become suspicious.

He then took a step back and said, in a joyful voice: “Let’s dance! We have to celebrate!”

And without even waiting for an answer, she got his hand and put it behind her back, grabbed the other hand, and started turning. She knew that she would keep absorbing more and more serum through the palm of his hand, and she knew that turning around would accentuate his dizziness and confusion.

“But there is no music!”, he protested, with a little whiny voice she had never heard before.

“Don’t worry, I will lead, you know you can trust me”.

They danced without music for ten, twelve, fifteen minutes. She could tell by the fog in his eyes that the serum was working, but she still needed to be very careful: at this stage, any false step could break the spell and make him come back to his senses.

“What do you say if we take this to the bedroom”, she whispered in his ear.

He smiled at her with drowsy eyes, and followed her through the secret door that lead to his bedroom.

Once they were on the other side, she kissed him passionately, thrusting her tongue inside his mouth, and applying more pressure with her hand on the back of his neck, gently massaging it with her serum-infused palms. She put her thigh between her legs, pressing his erect cock with it. She knew that her brain was right now in shortcircuit, trying to process all the physical sensations he was feeling, while at the same time being slowed down by the powerful serum.

She pressed harder against him, never letting him get any air to clear his thoughts. She then pushed him slowly towards the bed, and sat on his lap, still kissing him deep.

“I... I...”, he said when she broke the kiss, trying to focus his thoughts.

She knew that it was time to go through step two of the process. She slid from his lap onto the bed, leaned her back against the pillows and placed her feet on his thighs.

“All this dancing has made my feet hurt”, she said, seductively. “Would you rub them for me... please...?”

It was a risky move, because if he knew that she had discovered her weakness and tried to exploit it, it could be her end. But he was far too dizzy to think clearly, his inhibitions were lowered by the drug, and his strong foot fetish was taking control. With a blank expression in his face, he posed her hands on her feet, and started taking her sandals off. Then he started rubbing her soles with her thumb, from the heel towards the toes.

She moaned with pleasure, and she wasn’t faking it: it was a really erotic sensation, and knowing that he was absorbing more and more serum, falling more and more under her spell, made it all the more erotic.

“Mmmmmmmh, yes, keep going”, she moaned, while pressing his other foot against his crotch with rhythmical movements. “Keep going”, she repeated, closing her eyes with pleasure.

“Now, the other one”, she ordered, and a few minutes later: “Now, kiss them”.

He doubted for a second, and that could have been the end of it, but she reacted quickly: with a swift movement, she lifter her dress, showing that she was wearing nothing underneath; and then she raised one foot and placed it a few centimetres away from Mr. A.’s mouth...

“Kiss my foot, please, dear... lick my soles and my toes... do it for me... please”.

And he did it: forgetting everything, forgetting that he was the leader of a crime syndicate, forgetting that he could not show any weakness or vulnerability, he let go and sank into his deeper fantasies. He placed her foot on his face and started licking it, biting it, kissing it, putting her sweet long toes inside his mouth one by one, and then going back to the sole...

She was also enjoying this moment, in all possible ways. His tongue licking her toes, flickering them, was sending waves of pleasure up her legs, and directly into her pussy. Without almost noticing, she had started playing with her clit, while massaging her breasts with the other hand. Her other foot, the one that was not being worshipped by Mr. A., kept pressing her cock through her

At the same time, she knew that he was absorbing massive amounts of serum by licking the cream that she had put in her feet. If she was going to break him and make him her foot slave, this was her chance.

“Take your pants off”, she ordered, with a stronger tone than before. “But don’t stop licking my feet”

He did as she had ordered, and soon he was lying naked in bed, feverishly licking her left foot while her right foot caressed his cock up and down, up and down, making the most of her high arches to rub his cock all over. His body was trembling with pleasure, getting closer and closer to orgasm, and she was not far behind. She was moaning, rubbing her clit and fingering herself at the same time. She was going to come too.

“Oh, yes”, she screamed, “come for me, my pet, come for me! Come on my foot, my pet, my child, come for me, oh, yes, yes!”

With a last effort, he bit her foot hard, almost painfully, and then he came like an explosion, harder than ever before, with spasms that shook his body up and down; a few seconds later, she came too, with a deep orgasm that originated in her foot and in her pussy simultaneously, and then expanded to all the rest of her body in repetitive waves of pleasure.

She only took the time she needed to recover, and then she laid down near him, with her foot still planted on top of his dick, and pressed her lips against his ears.

“That was so good, my pet”, she whispered, “that was so good, so hot, so sexy... Did you like it?”

“Mmmmh”, he replied, with a weak moan and a blank stare.

“Of course you liked it, my pet, you liked it because I know what you need, I know what you really want. You can trust me, because I know you, I know your deepest desires and fantasies, and I know how to fulfil them...”

While whispering, she kept rubbing his cock with her foot, and it was slowly coming back to life again.

“You like feet, don’t you?”, she asked, playfully biting his earlobe.

“Yes”, he answered.

“Say it, say that you like feet”

“I like feet”

“You do like feet, yes, and now I know it, and I can give you what you want, I can fulfil your fantasies, I can make you cum with my feet any time I want. Because I have power over you. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes”

“Say it. Say that I have power over you. Say that my feet control you”

“I... you... have power... your feet... control me...”

“Very well, my pet”, Christine continued, “I am going to reward your loyalty”.

By now, he had a full erection again, and she kept rubbing it with her toes and with her sole, as well as pressing her body, her boobs, her thighs and her pussy against him.

“Feel it, my pet, feel my foot giving you pleasure, a pleasure like you have never felt before. See how I reward your submission, the pleasure that you can achieve if you submit to me, if you become my pet”.

He had his eyes closed, and his fists clinched. The serum was in full effect now, so all her conscious defences were down. Combined with the power of his foot fetish, he was powerless against her suggestions. She felt almost sorry for him, seeing him so powerless; but she had to remember her mission, she had to remember why she was doing all this. She had to finish his conditioning.

“You are close to cumming, aren’t you, my pet? Yes, I know you are, my feet control you, my feet are the source of your pleasure... But before you cum, I need you to do something for me... I need to totally submit your will to me”.

“Mmmmh?”

“I need you to say that you are my slave. Otherwise, you won’t be able to cum. Say that you are my slave”

“I...”, he said, but her last traces of will prevented him from finishing.

“Say it!”, she ordered, rubbing her cock stronger and faster with her sole.

“I... I am...”

“Ok... It is your choice... Here’s what happens when you don’t surrender to me...”, she said, and she moved away from him, living him on the edge of an orgasm, and suddenly feeling cold and alone.

“No, no... please...”, he begged with his eyes widely open in terror.

“Please what?”

“Please make me cum with your feet... please!”

“You have to say it...”

“Please”

“Say that you are my slave”

“I... I am your slave!”

“Say that you are my slave forever”

“I am your slave forever... please... make me cum!”

“Ok, my pet, you have earned your reward. I am going to make you come now”, she said, and she saw him tremble in anticipation.

“You are my slave forever”, she whispered to her ear, as she placed her foot once again on her cock, but still without moving it. “Say it. Say that you are my slave”.

“I am your slave”, he said, and she moved her foot once, but only once, up and down her cock.

“Say it again”.

“I am your slave”, he repeated, and she moved her foot once more, but only once. “I am your slave”, he said again of his own volition. He was a fast learner.

“I am your slave, I am your slave, I am your slave”, he kept repeating, as a mantra, and every repetition was rewarded with a new movement of the foot which bring him closer to cumming. “I am your slave, I am your slave, Iamyourslave, Iamyourslave, Iamyourslave, Iamyourslave”, he kept saying, faster and faster, and she knew that with each repetition the idea was getting implanted deeper and deeper in his subconscious.

“Iamyourslave Iamyourslave Iamyourslave Iamyourslave Iamyourslave Iamyourslave!!!”, he shouted, as she moved her foot faster and faster on his cock, and with a last push of her foot he pushed him over the edge, and he came, once more, with his whole body tensed as a bow, and his sperm shooting out of his cock as a bullet. Several waves of spasms shook his body, as she slowly decreased the rhythm of her caresses on her cock.

She hugged him as he recovered his breath, and whispered comforting words on his ear. “Very well, my pet, you did well, you are a good pet, you are a good slave, you did well, rest now”.

Slowly, he drifted off and fell asleep. She got dressed quickly, walked to her room, got the jar with the rest of the serum and came back to his bedroom, where he was loudly snoring. She opened the jar and applied a good amount on serum on his temples, on his waits on his neck, on his cock, in all the places where she knew that it would be absorbed more quickly and deeply.

He slept for hours, and for hours she kept whispering his conditioning in his ear: “You love me, you are my slave, you want me, you need me, you love me, you are my slave, you want me, you need me...” Without waking him up, she made him cum three more times with her feet, without ever stopping his conditioning. “You love me, you are my slave, you want me, you need me...”

When he finally woke up, hours later, they made love once more, like newlyweds, looking into each other eyes, and with each thrust of her cock inside her, he kept repeating, “I love you, I am your slave, I want you, I need you, I love you...” This time, she came before he did, and then finished him off with her feet once more.

Then she looked at him, transformed into a drooling idiot on the sheets covered in semen and sweat, and she knew that it was time to get to work.

“You did well, my slave, but now it is time to show me how much you trust me. Let’s start with the basics: I am tired of calling you Mr. A. What is your real name?”

He smiled at her with a blissful smile, and started talking.