I lay here, in my drawer-- sorry, not MY drawer, HER drawer-- waking up to the sound of her alarm clock outside my dresser prison. A stray ankle sock keeps my naked body warm. I've been good lately, so I get to sleep with her clean clothes. It's a privilege under her rule-- not a right. My rights were signed away years ago, by nobody's fault but my own.

She's coming. I hear her footsteps; I feel her footsteps subtly vibrate the floor beneath me, and increase in their vibratory power as she approaches. The harsh light of a new day blinds me for a moment. I rub my eyes, crawling from my sock-bed to look up at her, the weight of my small body resting on my calves as my calloused knees dig into the dresser wood. Strands of her strawberry blonde hair dangled into my-- sorry HER-- drawer.

"Morning, Caleb," my goddess says.

"Good morning, goddess Natalie."


The circumstances that brought me here are, as stated before, nobody's fault but my own. It's hard to say where it all started. I can go as far back as our wedding engagement, my infidelity, my gamlbing problem that brought me crawling to her for a job in her lawfirm. I was desperate at the time, drowning in debt after I used a casino to numb the emotional pain I suffered with after our break up. When the loan sharks got involved, I ran into some trouble. I knew Natalie came from money, climbing her way up the legal ladder and taking over her father's lawfirm after his passing. I didn't know who else to turn to other than the woman I shared my life with for years. Sure, we were broken up, and I'm sure she didn't want to talk to me after I cheated on her, but I was desperate. For legal advice. For debt relief. For safety.

So Natalie agreed to cover all my debt, and gave me a job in her firm to work it off. With the stroke of a pen and my name on a dotted line, I was debt free and employed. It was that easy. The relief I felt overpowered the dread of working with my ex-fiancé.

I regret it to this day.

I started in the mailroom, sorting and delvering to my various superiors around the office. It didn't take long for Natalie to ask me to get her a coffee-- then another after I made the first wrong. Picking up her drycleaning had me questioning what my acrual role was here in the office-- my title, if you will. At the time, I felt it wasn't my place to gripe over the tasks she gave me, so I kept it to myself.

It wasn't until she pushed the limit on my humiliation that I decided to speak up, "You want me to what?" I asked after scanning, copying, and delivering documents for her two paralegals sitting in front of her desk for a meeting.

"Get under the desk," Natalie pointed, with her long, sharp, red fingernail flaunting its emphasis, "and rub my feet, Caleb."

The two paralegals snickered like they just heard some juicy gossip.

"I... I don't feel comfortable doing that," I said, obviously blushing.

"Okay," was all Natalie said. Her finger remained, her chair kept the doorway to beneath her desk open. Not as if she didn't hear me, but as if she didn't care.

I was confused, and felt a lump pack its way in my throat. "So..." I played off her blunt response, "is there anything else you need?"

The three girls laughed. Natalie calmed the two paralegals when she answered, "I already told you, Caleb. Get under my desk and rub my feet."

Here's where the truth was revealed, and my life changed in an exponential spiral pattern. "I'm sorry," I started, "but I've been meaning to ask you; what's my actual role around here? Am I like your assistant?"

A devious curl spread across her smiling face. Natalie rolled her chair to her filing cabinet where she dug up the fat stack of terms and conditions I signed up for. She put on her glasses and flicked through the contract, directing me to some arbitrary point on a page I wouldn't have even read, let alone skimmed.

JOB TITLE: Natalie's

That was all it read. No lines to indicate a blank space that might be filled to make me Natalie's assistant, or Natalie's clerk, or Natalie's... slave. None of that. I was just Natalie's. I was Natalie's. As much as this firm is hers... so am I.

"Now," she started, closing the document, "you can keep this copy-- we have plenty more--" her eyes motioned to her paralegals, "and I'd advise you to read it over at some point, and see why you are currently, contractually obligated to get under my desk and rub my feet."

I stood there silent, eyes and mouth wide with confusion and fear. Natalie's paralegals were visibly holding back laughter.

Natalie rolled her chair out from her desk, just a bit. "Now, we have work to attend to. So please, if you will."

I looked at Natalie. I looked at the girls, still snickering. I looked at the contract. I looked back at Natalie who grew visibly impatient.

There was no anger in her tone, she spoke so matter of fact; "Now, Caleb."

I awkwardly got on all fours, shaking as I did and with each crawling step I took. The space betwern her legs and the desk was just enough to barely let me through, and no more. The light of her office dimmed away from me as I adjusted my way under her desk, where she rolled in and placed her high heeled feet on my lap. I expected her to kick her shoes off, but the face she made, and hand gesture to get a move on was signal for me to take off her heel and get to work.

So I took hold of the sole and pointed heel of her shoe, and pulled it off. Immediatley, I felt the heat eminate from the shoe. A musky heat that put the cramped underside of Natalie's desk into perspective, as-- come the removal of the second heel-- my dark workspace pocketed the sweaty odor around me.

A roar of laughter from the girls startled me to work, causing my hands to jump and take hold of Natalie's nylon encased foot. A flood of 'what-if?'s kept a stream of dread flowing through me as I wondered... what else did I sign up for?

A soft, pale hand cupped on my back as Natalie's fingers wrapped around me. I shudder at the wave of pride I feel over the manicure I recently gave my goddess. I always close my eyes for this part: the lift off. I'm taken out of the sock and underwear drawer Natalie so graciously made my home-- at least when I'm a good slave.

"Let's get you dressed," Natalie stated, opening a small, novelty trunk that once held jewelry. Now it's full of my clothes-- sorry, HER clothes, that she picks out for me.

When my feet touch the top of her dresser, I immediately drop to my knees in habit. I don't like to watch her pick what she's going to dress me up in. Not that my averted eyes matter, as I'll get to see myself in whatever garb she likes for the rest of the day.

"Hmmm..." Natalie murmered in thought, "I haven't seen you in this in a while." Pinched between two fingers, a frilly, pastel-pink maid's dress, fit (and quite literally made) for a doll shined bright in the morning sun. Complete with white stockings topped with pink bows, an apron (that at this point, has seen better days), and headpiece to match. 100% silk, aside from the apron and stockings. Natalie spent a ridiculous chunk of money for this doll collector's item-- that is, a ridiculous chunk of money to me... spare change to her.

The dress draped over me when Natalie's fingers let go, like a claw machine. I don't question it. I don't groan. I don't even sigh. I say, "Thank you, goddess," and put it on.

Natalie was always a type A personality, even when we were engaged. Her pride was something, I'll admit, I was attracted to when we were dating. By the time she grew more comfortable around me, and I started to see her true colors, I surpressed the realization that her narcissism was toxic, to say the least. I loved her, whether or not she made the waiter say "Please," for his tip; whether or not she was angry at the person on the other end of a call for hanging up first; whether or not she had me do all the chores she didn't want to. I knew, even back then, at the end of the day, all Natalie wanted was control.

The power she held over me was a dream come true for Natalie, topped with the satisfaction of revenge for my infidelity. I read through the contract, just like she advised me to, and felt horror at what I saw. While I've never uttered this aloud, it can be held up in court as a quote from me-- signed rather than said:

• "I, Caleb redact and cancel all of my rights as an Americsn citizen. I grant all my rights to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and all amendments currently in or added to the Constitution of the United States of America to the control and power of Natalie, and those may see fit."

... and so on and so forth. I'm not going to go into all of the details of the contract. It's hundreds of pages, filling in any loophole, taking away any chance I might have or choice I might make as an autonomous being that wants out of this situation. She controls me... my everything.

The only hope I have in gaining freedom is in a payment of $1billion dollars-- that is... after paying off the debt I already owe her, plus what is accumulating from her providing food, water, housing, clothing, electricity, gas... anything at all she can charge me for, all at her discretion. At this point in my life, I have no paycheck. After all, she's my boss, she decides my wages-- which have dropped to below minimum since my hire, and she takes all of it. She controls all of it. And I'm contractually obligated to pay it back and obey her until then. That, or prison, which can be decided at any time, for any reason by her. But that's a last case scenario. Natalie would never give up the opportunity to enact revenge upon the man that caused her such heartache. If I refuse a task, I'm generally punished until I do it.


The day I realized this, sitting under Natalie's desk rubbing her feet through her moist nylons while she went about her meeting with her paralegals, I thought about what I could say to convince her to end this. This all happening before I read the contract I already signed. I was ignorant to what she might inflict on me.

When their meeting was over, I spoke up "Natalie?"

No response.

"Can we talk about this?"

"Maybe after my foot rub," she answered, blunt in her tone.

I tried to speak up, "I just think this is a little-" but was cut off by the bottom of her damp foot meeting my mouth. I shuddered at how damp tbe nylon felt on my lips. Her toes encased my nostrils in a fragrant cage.

I shut up. This woman freed me from debt, or worse with those loan sharks involved. I was in no position to complain. My silence convinced her to remove her foot from my lips.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was still rubbing Natalie's feet. She rolled her chair back and, without so much as looking down at me, commanded, "Put my shoes back on." I did so, hands trembling in nervousness. Natalie stood up, and gestered me to come out from under her desk. "I'm going to lunch," she said, rummaging through her purse to find a dry cleaning ticket. "Go pick this up, get me a coffee how I like it, and when you're done, get back under the desk and wait for me."

"Listen," I tried to speak up, "Can't we talk about this?"

"If there's time before lunch is over, we'll talk." Natalie walked out of her office before I could respond. With the ticket in my hand, I ran her-- sorry-- MY errands.

I hung the mesh dry cleaning bag on her door, as I usually did. Her coffee steamed, making a reminding me of the heat from those putrid high heels. I remember those from when we were dating. I'm pretty sure they're older than our relationship. And she expected me tocwait for her under her desk again? Hell no.

I sat down in a chair in front of her desk. I looked down at the center, the other side of where she stuck me the past two hours, and expected me to return there again. While it's a solid-wood desk, the legs elevate it enough that somebody-- ANYBODY could notice me if they simply looked down from where I'm sitting now; a seat meant for clients, coworkers, guests...

My train of thought derailed by the force of my heart dropping; "Are you kidding me?" Natalie scolded, not quite yelling.

I dove right in. I didn't want to bother with introductions, "Look, Natalie, I get that you're upset with me-- you have every right to be-- and I am more than thankful for your generosity in paying off my debt and giving me a job. But please, I'm begging you for... for..." (the right word escaped me here in this panic) "... civility! This-- this contract is going too far!"

"You could have just not signed it," Natalie said, shrugging. She sat at her desk and retrieved the contract once more.

The document hit the desk between us, displayed before me like a tome. This is where Natalie filled me in; on the debt, the impossible potential for my freedom, possible prison time. I was frozen. Fight or flight weren't options for me right now.

Any "But..."s and "What if..."s from me were negated with "Nope,"s and "Here's why," from her.

I poked and prodded over the legitimacy of this contract. Natalie was more than willing to dicate all of the legalese I didn't understand as to why this contract was legitimate.

"Any other questions?" Natalie asked with a smile. My stunned silence answered for me. "Good. Now... on to phase two."

"Ph-phase two?" I stuttered as Natalie stood and walked over to the dry cleaning.

"With all that being said, unless you're looking for jailtime, I suggest you change into your new uniform."

Natalie smiled, biting just the tip of her tongue with her pearl-white teeth, peeking out from within her deep red lipstick as she unzipped the mesh dry cleaning bag slowly, sinking my heart into my gut as the zipper descended.

That's when I tried to run. I was more than ready to shove Natalie out of the doorway, but she moved and let me run. I didn't anticipate what would come next.

The end of the hall didn't seem to get any closer to me. I was still in motion, no doubt, moving forward, but it was like I only ever made it halfway there. The walls beside me started to drift away, eventually out of reach. I tried to scream, but couldn't. Nothing felt like it was inhibiting me from speaking, I just couldn't. I stopped running and stood still, realizing that the world around me was growing.

I quickly realized, this was not the case. The world wasn'r growing, I was shrinking. I dropped to my ass in shock, looking up at the impossibly tall mansion that was Natalie's law firm. The floor beneath me pounded louder and louder, like an earthquake, or a heartbeat, or... footsteps.

I sat between the pair of high heels worn by the woman-- sorry-- GODESS, that would rule my life from here on out.

"Hm..." Natalie groans in thought, "it's a bit baggy," referring to the pink maid's outfit she has me dressed in. Her fingers raise before me, a pointer and thumb spread apart. With a slow pinch of her fingers, the dress shrinks just tight enough to make me struggle with every move. Natalie likes it this way. Anything to make my life harder.

The dress squeezes my skin as the shrinking continues, now taking me with it. My eyes widened in a panic as my body now shrinks in unison with the doll dress, "B-but what did I do?!" I plead, assuming I'm being punished.

Natalie shrugs, "Nothing. I just wanted to wear my sandals today." I hold back tears knowing what that means for me.

Reaching my new size of about an inch, the six inches I stood at moments ago felt so tall compared to now. Natalie pinches my body, squeezing the air out of me, as it often did. A spool of thread would tie my fate for the day, it looked like. Natalie holds my back against the toe thong of her sandal. She starts with my hands, binding them together, then wraps the string around, and around, and around the thong of the sandal.

My head sinks as I anticipate my fate tied to her sandal. "Now Caleb," Natalie starts in a condescending tone, "I picked these because it's a hot day today. Don't be upset. This is for your own good. You're lucky I don't wear something close-toed, like my boots." Natalie brings the sandal close to her face, and speaks in a soft, breathy voice, like a whisper. "Could you imagine... the heat if I wore my black leather boots today... stuffing you in the toe section? The sweat that would flood your entire world in there, if I did? The work you'd have to go through freshening up my boots, and my poor, tired feet at the end of the day. Don't you see? I'm being nice."

Natalie's face zooms away from me at seemingly impossible speed. Nausea kicks in again, as it often does. Natalie places her sandal on the floor. I relax my muscles as best I can tied to the toe thong of her sandal. I've learned it's easier that way. At least a little.

"You should really be thanking me, Caleb." Natalie says, hands on her hips.

I don't t hesitate. I've learned not too. "Thank you, goddess Natalie."

"For what?" testing me in a fake-surprised tone.

"Thank you for tying me to your sandal," I struggled to keep eye contact with her, but that's what she demands in moments like this.

"And?"

My mouth quivered "And for wearing me between your toes."

"Very good." With that, Natalie's foot approaches me, pinching my entire body between her big and second toe. My face is subject to the flesh between her toes. And this would be the case for the rest of the day, it looks like. On the bright side (if you could call it that) I just did a really deep detailed cleaning of her feet the night before. Any toejam that normally accumulates has been... taken care of... All I'll have to deal with is the sweat.

I shudder as this positive (if you could call it that) thought passes through my thoughts, comforting me.

I wasn't always kept so small. Shrinking used to be a punishment. Now it's generally the norm. If I'm not an inch, I'm six. If not six, a foot. If not a foot, three feet. Growing any bigger than that is a rarity these days. I couldn't tell you how she does it, I don't understand. When I ask her, she just responds, "Just know that I can." My only theory is that it has something to do with that contract. I granted Natalie rights to control me. In any way she pleases. Apparently, down to my size, and then some. I live in fear of her power, everyday.

The first day that she shrunk me, I wouldn't be big again until the next day. She took me home with her after work that day, tucked tight in her supple cleavage. It's incredible how inhibiting her breasts are-- they work just as well as rope does when it comes to keeping me from going anywhere.

Natalie wanted to make my future known to me. So after work, tucked away between her breasts, she took me home. At this point, my old home. Her car parked across the street from my house, where I was alarmed to find a crowd of people.

They seemed to be facing some focal point that I couldn't quite make out from where I was. I'm not sure if Natalie knew that I couldn't see, or if she was trying to flex her power over me, showing me the reality of my situation. She dug through the crowd to reach the front.

I wanted to scream at what I saw, but couldn't thanks to Natalie's seemingly psychic control over me, keeping me from speaking. Before us stood the next woman who would only aid in my hellish existence. Natalie's mother; Karen.

Of course it was her. Karen is a real estate agent. Before me, I witnessed the sale of my estate; all my belongings, my car, my home... my clothes. I tried to look down at the frilly pink maid's outfit Natalie had me dressed in, but of course, her cleavage wouldn't allow it. Believe it or not, the clothes were the hardest part to watch get taken away. Because-- honestly, to no surprise at this point-- without anything of mine to wear, I'm subject to whatever Natalie wants to dress me in.

I watched as Karen called out items and prices, like an auctioneer. Her eyes darted around the crowd as she hollered numbers. For just a hair longer than a moment, Karen faced Natalie, and locked her eyes on me. She knew. She knew the state I was in. No doubt, she would take part in ruling my life.

We only stayed long enough for Natalie to get her point across. Once Natalie allowed me to speak again, I wept the entire car ride home-- to my NEW home... Natalie's house.

My first full day in shrunken servitude was the first time I slept in this dresser draw I call my-- sorry, HER-- room she's provided for me. I'm at a point now that I'm thankful when my goddess allows me to sleep in here instead of her hamper, or her gym bag.

But the first morning I woke up in there, after watching my belongings get sold away, I was the least bit thankful, waking up to the harsh light of day after a night of screaming and kicking and crying. The bags under my eyes expressed my lethargy to the outside world. Not that I would see the outside world that day.

Natalie was already dressed and ready for work as she pulled me out of the drawer, gently holding me as I struggled and fought her grasp. She plopped me on her bed, hard enough for me to land less than gracefully, but not enough to hurt me. Her pointer and thumb met, and spread out to grow me back to my regular size (give or take a few inches).

I lunged to tackle her, as fighting seemed like my only way to freedom. But as I rose in her bed, my muscles completely relaxed, collapsing me to the ground, even less gracefully than when I landed on the bed. An act of Natalie's full power and control over my being.

"I'm going to be nice, and ignore that," Natalie said, arms crossed, squatting down near my head.

"Fuck... you..." I struggled to say.

Natalie rested her knee on my head, slowly adding her whole weight to my skull. The weight only increased when I realized she was shrinking me. I couldn't fight it. I couldn't struggle. I could only take it.

"You really don't seem to realize the power I have over you. Powers YOU granted me. You did this to yourself."

I struggled between fighting this, or giving in. I feared for my life when I reached three feet in height.

 "Okay!" I was able to let out, "P-p-please! Don't hurt me!"

The shrinking stopped, but her knee remained on my head. The pain stopped increasing as well. I started catching my breath.

"Are you going to cooperate now, Caleb?"

"I'll be good. I'll be good," I pleaded.

My obedience seemed to alleviate some of the pain, as her knee stayed firm upon my head. I didn't realize this right away at the time.

"Please," I begged, "grow me back. I'll listen, I swear." The pain lessened even more.

Natalie paused before standing. She towered over my one foot tall (if you could call it tall) body lying on the ground in my ridiculous pink maid dress. My muscle control returned to me as Natalie's leg stretched forward, presenting her high heeled foot before me. "Kiss my foot to say you're sorry."

I hesitated, quivering on my hands and knees. Possibilities raced in and out of my mind, all subsided by the realization of the power Natalie had over me. She tapped her foot impatiently, so I bowed close, and kissed her foot. I didn't stop, planting kiss after kiss, each one freeing me from the pain she pressed into my head. I felt my body grow as I forced my affection onto the top of her foot. I didn't reach my full height yet, unfortunately.

"Okay," Natalie started as she moved her foot away from me, "that's enough, for now." Natalie strolled to her closet, and pulled out a pink leather collar.

My body told me to fight this, but I knew not to-- the internal conflict causing me to quiver. Where I initially hoped Natalie would help me out of my bad situation with open arms, she did so with an open collar; one that I watched approach me, wrapping and latching around my neck. A padlock would be my dog tag. I started to cry, but Natalie stopped me without even the wave of a hand.

Her fingers pinched together, and spread apart, growing my body to fit into my dress and collar, both uncomfortably snug. "There," she said, proud and matter of fact. I grasped at the collar, hoping to stretch it just a tad, hoping for some easier breathing. This would not be the case.

My hands held my neck as I looked down to realize how short I still stood before Natalie. "I'm... I'm still too short..."

"Hm..." Natalie put a finger to her lip, faking consideration  "No, I think this is perfect." She approached me to check my height compared to hers. The top of my head met the bottom of her hips. "Yeah," she sounded excited and still proud, turning her body to put me face to face with her ass. She bumped it into my head, hard enough to knock me over. Natalie laughed in giddy excitement, "This is perfect. I can't wait to play with you after work."

I stood to my feet, tripping myself on my skirt, then successfully standing, "You're leaving me here?!"

Natalie placed a hand on her hip and chuckled, looking at me up and down, "That, or you're coming to work with me." I blushed at the thought of going out in public dressed as Natalie's two foot tall maid-boy. "You're more than welcome to."

Before she took a breath after her offer, I answered, "No, no, no, no... I'll... I'll stay.”

Natalie pinched my cheek, "Good boy," and strolled out of her bedroom, "Come, now."

I followed Natalie to her foyer, where a list hung by the door. I assumed what this list would be.

"Here's your list of chores for the day. I expect them to be done before I return, as you'll have more work to do this evening. So you'll need all the time in the world." Natalie presented her foot to me again, "Say goodbye."

I knelt down, bowed my head, and kissed her foot. With that, Natalie left for work. I stood in the foyer frozen, listening to her get in her car, and drive away.

I peeked out the window to see that the coast was clear. Two foot maid, or not, I wanted to get the hell out of here. So I bolted for the front door and reached for the handle.

But I couldn't touch it. It wasn't that I couldn't reach it, I literally couldn't touch it. It was like an invisible bubble encompassed the handle. Like two repelling magnets, only stronger. But it felt less like a physical force, and more like a force of my will. This was the case, though I didn't know it then. Natalie's psychic control over me commanded that I do not leave the house. It wasn't even an issue that I couldn't, it was the fact that I wouldn't. I stomped my failure into the ground, throwing a temper tantrum at my situation. Crying and writhing at how trapped and helpless I felt. After what felt like an hour of this, my already fatigued energy gave me no other option. I could keep trying to escape, or comply until I found an open window (be it figurative or literal) to freedom.

So I approached my list of chores for the day, clipped to the key rack by the door. Of course, I was too short to reach it. It hurt and simultaneously amazed me how humiliated I could feel all alone, dressed up in a pretty pink maid's outfit, shrunken down to two feet, pushing and climbing a chair to reach my honey-do list like a child.

I plopped onto the chair and unfolded the list. There wasn't a single open line on this piece of paper, and the tasks ranged from normal to humiliating; do the dishes, make the bed, fold the laundry, cook dinner, vacuum, mop, dust... my least favorite was having to clean and organize her shoes.

This is my first time in Natalie's new place since the break up. It was supposed to be ours after the wedding, but it looks like Natalie took it for herself. A three bedroom two and a half bath home for one woman. One woman... and her slave.

I needed a drink. Something hard preferably, but knew I absolutely needed water. I got up on my chair to reach the faucet, and found-- to my dismay-- the same problem I had with the door knob. I shuddered at the thought of dying at Natalie's hands. Was she really going to starve me? Dehydrate me? She may see me as less than human, but I still have necessities, dammit! My thirst wasn't the biggest issue as of yet though, thankfully. But the fear stuck with me throughout my cleaning that she may keep me from my basic human needs.

My heart sunk when I saw the clock; six and a half hours until she was off work. Maybe it sounds like a lot of time, but when the consequences are unpredictable, it doesn't feel like a lot of time. So I got to work.

I can't say this was the worst part about all this, but it definitely made it worse: I had no idea where anything was. I searched high (as high as I could) and low, looking for mops, brooms, feather duster, cleaning sprays, sponges... shoe polish.

It was the hunt for some sort of shoe cleaning kit that wasted so much of my time this first day. When I opened the walk-in closet door to find a messy, uncared for pile of shoes, I found another note, folded and thrown on top of the pile.

The closet air felt humid, with a strong musky smell to it. I couldn't believe somebody's feet could really be so disgusting-- enough to change the humidity of the room. The stench made me honestly fear what that note had in store for me. At my height, I had to climb the pile to reach the note that I could have bent over to pick up at my normal height. Breath held in, safe from the smell, I grabbed the note and lunged out of the closet for fresh air. 

I unfolded the note to find it less than helpful:

There's a bit of a scent to these I can't seem to get out. Do whatever it takes to make them fresh again.

 "No shit," I said aloud.

I jumped at an unsuspected voice downstairs, "Knock, knock!" It wasn't Natalie. And I knew it wouldn't be long until I had to deal with her mother... Karen.

I was scared to investigate, but suspected that I had to. Obviously, Natalie's at work. Karen's entrance hinted that she knew I was here. After all, she was well aware of Natalie's contract with me, playing her role in selling my property away.

The stairs creaked with my careful steps as I sheepishly peered over the railing to see Karen standing in the foyer.

"Oh there you are," she started, smiling and peppy. "Natalie asked me to come check on you. Come, come. I want to see how you look in your new uniform."

My face beat red, right hand clenching my left arm, I stepped the rest of the way down the stairs, silent.

"Aw, how cute! You make such a pretty girl, Caleb!" Karen put her hands on her lap as she crouched to look at me closer, "Say it. Say you're a pretty girl."

In fear for my safety, I dared not to disrespect the mother of my new goddess, so I obliged; "I-I'm a pretty girl."

Karen chortled, "Now say you're a pretty SISSY girl."

"I'm a..." I blushed more, "I'm a pretty sissy girl."

Karen laughed until tears welled up. "Oh my gosh! That's SO cute!" She took her phone from her purse and pointed the camera at me, "Let me get a picture of you."

Some instict in me pulled this reaction; "No! No, no! Please!"

I held my hands to my face as she snapped, shot after shot, approaching me and literally backing me into a corner. Karen's thick, dry hands grabbed both of mine, and she lifted them in the air, taking the rest of my body with them. I dangled in her grip, so tight and painful, as she pointed the camera, still taking pictures

"Smile," she commanded, short and impatient.

It felt pathetic, but I smiled.

Without letting go, Karen literally dragged me to the living room, where she lounged on the couch. She pointed to the space in front of her, "Here, on your hands and knees."

I obliged. Karen kicked off her black flats and rested her bare feet on my back.

"Eh... too short. Stand up."

I obliged. Karen rested her feet on both my shoulders.

"Too high. On your knees."

I obliged, my shoulders now parallel with the couch. Her thick, dry feet surrounded my head, the soles themselves reaching past my hair.

Ah... just right," she said with a sigh, a smile, and a scroll through our photoshoot, snapping some extra pictures occasionally. When I sulked my head to hide in embarassment, Karen pushed it back up with her big toe under my chin, "Come on, now. Chin up. Stretch your neck a bit, let me see that cute little collar."

I begrudgingly obliged. Karen pinched the lock on my collar between her first and second toe.

"So cute," she said under her breath.

Though I tried to keep my composure, my eyes winced at the scent of Karen's feet. The scent of no socks in flats on a hot day. It wasn't as bad as Natalie, but I could see where Natalie got it from.

Eventually my discomfort was noticeable. Karen chuckled, looking up from her phone, "What? What is it?" She planted her big, meaty foot square on my face, my nose dead center. "Are they smelly?"

I nodded my head, causing an uproar in Karen.  "I'm sorry, sweetie. Here," a force pulled me closer, wedging my shoulders beneath the pits of her knees, clamping me so close in her thick thighs. "Better?"

Better in smell? Yes. But the weight of her legs on my two foot body made me question what was worse. "Y... yeah..." I managed to let out.

"Good. Let me know if you get too uncomfortable."

This was weird. Karen was being so... sweet? Maybe accommodating would be a better word. She was much more understanding than Natalie, but still took advantage of my state.

I peered over at the clock in the corner of my eye. I was nearing crunch time, and still had chores to do. "K-Karen..." I murmured.

"What is it, honey?" she responded, not looking up from her phone.

"I really have to finish my chores before Natalie gets home."

Karen's legs lifted off of my shoulders, "Oh, don't let me keep you."

I let out a deep sigh of relief as I stood, "Thanks."

"Is she working you hard?" she said in such an unnerving fun way.

"Y-yeah," I said scratching the back of my head. Years of knowing this woman suddenly felt like day one again.

"What's she have you on next?" Karen asked.

"I..." it was really embarrassing saying it out loud, especially to another person, "I have to clean Natalie's shoes for her."

Karen rolled her eyes, "Oh, girls and their shoes, am I right?"

I forced a chuckle, "Yeah... I'm not quite sure how she wants it done, though." The thought occured that Karen might know what to use to clean shoes. "You wouldn't happen to know if Natalie has, like, a shoe shine kit or something?"

Karent stood from the couch, "Here-- come with me. I'll show you how to do it." As she started walking, she paused and turned, "Oh, and stay on your knees, please. You'll have to get used to that eventually."

Her patience with me cushioned the embarrassment of remaining on my knees. I'm already two feet tall, am I really expected to stay on my knees for the rest of my life? Nonetheless, I obliged. After all, she's willing to help me.

So I followed Karen to Natalie's room, into her closet. Karen's presence at her normal-person height suddenly made it feel less like a walk in closet. She stood at the open door and motioned for me to, "Go ahead."

I crawled into the closet, approaching the pile. Karen walked in and squatted down next to me.

"So tell me, what seems to be the issue?" she said, putting a comforting hand on my back.

"Well... s-she wants me to clean them. Specifically to get rid of the smell. But... I'm not sure how... like... wouldn't soap and water damage them?"

Karen laughed, "Yeah, don't do that. Ruin a woman's shoes and you're..." she gestured a knife to the throat using her finger, and laughed. I tried to join, but my attempts were obviously fake. "Go ahead and pick up a shoe."

I didn't know where to start. It seemed like Natalie had them all; high heels, open-toed, stilettos, leather boots, suede boots, ankle boots, tennis shoes, slippers, converse, slip ons... I could go on. Where Natalie finds the time to break these in to the point that the smell fills a room is beyond me. I stopped thinking about it and picked. The first one I grabbed being a brown flat, scuffed on the outside, stained with black toe marks on the inside. Like all the others, the shoe was enormous at my size. It could cover my whole torso and some of my face. This was surely going to be a long... draining task.

"So," Karen started, "If you don't have anything to clean with, you gotta work with what you got. Like a good maid."

 "Work with what I got?" I was genuinely confused, and a tad concerned.

Karen nodded her head. I took my skirt and used it to wipe off the shoe. Karen intercepted this, grabbing my hands and separating them, "No, no! You'll dirty up your uniform! Look at me," I obliged, "Go like this," and with that  Karen stuck out her tongue. All the way. Flat.

I didn't even think about it and followed suit... looking back, how quickly I was open to mirror her makes me shudder. But I did. All the way. Flat.

"Good, good," Karen praised, "Now, take the shoe..." my heart was thumping like a workout. Her kindness is what made me so afraid to disobey. That and the respect Natalie had for her mother. No doubt, I'd be in deep shit if I disobeyed her. Karen continued, "... and run it across your tongue."

I did it. I ran the side of the flat across my tongue. I kept telling myself it wasn't so bad, but I knew it would only get worse.

"You got it," Karen said, proud of me. "Now, you HAVE to get in there," she pointed to the blackened insole, "REALLY push your tongue hard up against it. I don't want my daughter walking around with god-knows-what beneath her feet."

I closed my eyes and groaned as I ran my tongue across Natalie's insole. The salty flavor trigged a sensation between stinging and burning. I held my breath as well as I could to hide from the smell. My entire face fit inside of the flat.

"Wow, you really hate this, don't you?" Karen asked, rubbing my back as I continued to debase myself in front of her. I nodded my head yes as she spoke to me in a comforting tone that I can't help but feel is actually meant to mock me, "Yeah... it's dirty isn't it? Oh you poor thing. Poor, poor little maid."

Some part of me silenced the world outside myself. I emerged from the flat, catching my breath, wiping my tears that formed as if I were cutting onions. "Is... is this gonna help the smell?"

"Oh, no, honey," Karen cooed, "You've gotta suck it out."

"Are you serious?" I groaned in an automated response.

Karen took the flat, and grabbed the back of my head-- my whole head, fitting in her palm like a ball.

"No," I whimpered, as I watched the dirty flat inch closer to my face, "No..."

"Oh, stop," Karen said in a chortle, "You'll learn to love it. You're gonna have to."  The world around me started to disappear as the shoe inched closer to my face, invading my vision. "This is what you signed up for," Karen commented, petting my hair. The insole engulfed my face like a mask, "Now let me hear a BIG breath in." I hesitated, but breathed in  "Come on. Come on, now. Deeper." I sucked in harder, wretching as Karen held me there, "Deeper... That's it. You've gotta take in every breath like that if you want to get rid of that smell."

 I let out the deep, burning breath I took in of Natalie's rancid foot funk. All I could say was a pathetic, scared, compliant, "Okay..."

"Again," Karen said, summoning a wimper out of me as I dove my head back in, clutching the worn flat in both of my tiny hands. "Good," Karen praised as she let go of me, letting me filter the scent out without her assistance, "Good girl."

I spent hours on the pile, exhausting my lungs, blackening my tongue. It burned, it stung, it stunk. My only moments of comfort came near the end of each shoe, when I was almost done and could tell the smell was gone, only to have that comfort revoked by the next revolting shoe. At this smaller size, I swear smells are stronger. At the time, I couldn't imagine the hell that is Natalie's foot stench at an inch tall. My thirst grew as my tongue became more and more dry. I resorted to licking the tears that ran down my face for any sort of hydration-- if not the sweat that seeped out of her insoles from the pressure of my tongue, like a sponge.

How and when I passed out is a blur. I really only remember waking up with a shadow cast over me, and her voice, "No dinner?" Natalie scolded, angry, waking me up me up from my unwanted slumber.

I clamored to my hands and feet, back facing the floor, and crab-crawled away from Natalie, trapped between her and the closet. She approached me, squatting down presenting her phone to me. "You're in big trouble," she said as she scrolled through the pictures her mother sent her of me covering my face for a picture, dangling by Karen's grasp refusing to smile, wincing with her feet rested on my shoulders, and a video:

"Wow, you really hate this, don't you?" Karen's voice said in the video of me wincing as I licked the insole of Natalie's dirty brown flat, nodding my head to answer; yes, I really do hate this.

It didn't even dawn on me that Karen never sent her the one picture of me smiling.

"Please, Natalie I tried!" I begged as Natalie dragged me by a pink leash, matching my pink collar. Keeping up with her strides proved to be futile-- the proof within the rug burns on my body from her dragging me into the kitchen.

My feet left the ground as Natalie held me by the leash, choking me and leaving me clamoring for air. "If you're not going to make me dinner, then YOU don't get dinner," Natalie scolded as her face grew larger before me until her red, smirking lips matched my height. The leash resembled a string, pinched in Natalie's fingers.

Natalie took a seat at the dining room table and crossed her leg. I watched as she broke the seal that held her fresh foot funk in her shoe. She placed the rancid high heel on the counter, and hung the leash directly over it on a cabinet door handle. I hung, still in a panic for breath, truly fearing that I would die here.

"Beg to breath in the smell of my heel," Natalie demanded, bent over to stay at eye level with me.

I couldn't speak to beg. All I could do was put my hands together, as if to pray to her.

"I need to know that you WANT to breathe again. I need know you WANT that breath to be full of my scent." Her eyes didn't move as she watched me dangle and beg.

My eyes did all the pleading, weeping, choking, hoarse sounds emerging from my attempts at speaking. I started pointing down into the shoe, and bringing my hands together to pray to her again.

Natalie straighted up, still watching me, and using her mysterious methods of control, the leash stretched, lowering me into her high heel. While I was unable to properly breathe, keeping the smell from my nose, the heat increased the closer I approached the shoe. She stopped manipulating the leash, just a moment before my foot would have touched down to relax it and give me air again (albeit, dirty air). I could feel the insole on the tip of my toe, but couldn't plant my feet down. I stretched my arm out to Natalie, hoping to catch her attention, but she already started cooking dinner. I'm sure she ignored me on purpose.

I felt so close to air. My vision started growing fuzzy. I kicked my leg to try and climb the slope of the insole. The leftover sweat made for a slick floor, nearly impossible to stand on. But in my desperate determination, I held my footing, long enough to take a gasp of air... air full of Natalite's powerful foot funk. The one breath caused me to gag and lose balance, but losing my footing up the slope of the heel made me swing, giving me another chance to catch my balance.

I held my breath upon catching my footing at the highest point of the heel, letting in small gusts of stench to fill my lungs. But they needed more... more air. I need to breathe. The thought of big breaths of air sounded as good as the food Natalie was making. When I felt comfortable in my footing, I inched my hand to the rim of the shoe, and grabbed ahold.

My feet released from the ground, slipping onto the sweat I landed face first in. My lungs filled with her stench, fresh from today, still warm in the sticky air. It stung. It burned me up inside so bad. And I let go. Swinging away into breathlessness against this humiliating collar. I feel so close. Swinging between a hellish life and choking to death. As I swung back to the top of the heel, I grabbed on again.

"Well, well," Natalie praised, "Look at you clever little maid. Was it worth it? Have you gotten your fill of air? Are you thankful that the air that is saving your life right now was blessed by my feet?"

I don't think blessed is the right word. But I had to play it up. I had to make it look like I was... thankful. I braced myself as best I could and took the breath my lungs so craved. A big, smelly, gasp.

My eyes instantly watered "Yes!" I coughed at the smell, "Thank you, Natalie!"

Natalie's pointer finger raised the leash again, "What did you call me?"

I hung there by my neck once more, choking on her name.

"I am your goddess. I am the reason you're alive," she brought me so close to her lips that I could feel each word escape, warm from her mouth, "and you will address me as such."

I nodded. I nodded so hard and so fast. In this moment I was ready to call her anything for air.

"Now this is only your first warning regarding how you will address me. You're already on my bad side, so try and turn it around, will you?"

I never stopped nodding, but slowed to almost blue in the face.

"Fantastic," she murmured, very serious. She grew the leash further, lowering me into her high heel.

I gasped and took in the odor. It was my only option for air. But in that moment, I truly thankful for it. I shudder at the memory. "Thank... you... god... ess..." I said completely genuine, weeping from a combination of her hellish foot smell and how close I felt like I was going to die. It didn't take long for me to control my gagging.

 "You're welcome, my little sissy maid. Now why don't you make it up to me by doing what you maids do best?"

Her eyes told me what she wanted. I looked down at the floor I sat on. I looked at my palm that caught myself... it shimmered, covered in her footsweat. Down the slope of the heel was a dark, wet cavern with five little black divets. My control of my gag reflex was nearly lost.

"Get to work, little maid. There's still a whole other shoe you'll need to take care of after that." Natalie smiled, proud at how far she was able to debase me. She took her cheating ex-fiance, dressed him like a maid, shrunk him down to an inch, and is having him lick the sweat stains out from the inside of her shoe after a hard days work, and knows that he will thank her for it, or else. She smiled wider knowing she could damn well make me do it tomorrow too... and the next day... and so on....

On the living room floor I knelt into the carpet, my shins disappearing into the fibers. In my frilly maid outfit, I appeared legless. Natalie's thighs draped over the edge, where her feet met the floor, and my leash met her ring toe. Despite my refusal, I lapped up the sweat of the day, mindful of her command to refrain from consuming any toejam without her approval-- a blessing in most ways of looking at my chore... yet fear loomed over me, paranoid of what might come of this ever-growing ball of toe slime.

I've been reduced enough that my tongue fit so perfectly into the awful crevices where her toes met her foot. Her finger slid across the area to direct my attention there, telling me, "This area here really needs the most attention," and flicking the beads of sweat that transferred to her finger, off her toes, onto me. And sure enough, she was right, I could tell this area's gone untouched by so much as a washcloth in who-knows-how-long.

The sweat that burned down my throat was the least bit satiating toward my ever growing thirst and hunger. Given my disobedience today, I felt speaking up about my discomfort was a bad idea.

The video Karen took played back from Natalie's phone as she lounged, shaking her head as my past self responded in disgust as Karen asked, "Wow, you really hate that don't you?"

"I can't believe you," Natalie shook her head and put her phone down. "I pay back ALL of your debt, give you a job," (and a yank on my leash), "and you can't even find it in yourself to be thankful enough that you clean my shoes without complaining."

Trying to get on her good side, I answered, "I'm sorry, goddess," and to my demise, "I'll learn."

"Oh, yeah?" Natalie prodded, "You'll learn, huh?"

"Y-yes, goddess..." I was willing to say anything to avoid her wrath and get a bite to eat.

"How long do you think it'll take for you to crave them?" Natalie gave my leash another tug, and grabbed my neck from between her toes.

"C-c-crave what, goddess?" I asked through gags and coughs.

"My feet of course," which wasn't what I meant when I said I'd 'learn.' "Think you'll ever appreciate me enough that every little bit of me-- big or small, clean or dirty-- will be the center of your arousal?"

I knew how to answer, though dishonest in my response; "M-maybe... with time... g-goddess..."

"It wouldn't take much," Natalie shrugged, carelessly holding me uncomfortably high at my height. "Watch..."

With that, Natalie curled her finger as if to draw me closer. Though, it would only be a part of me that moved in her direction...

I felt an uncontrollable arousal tingling between my legs, pointing an erection to the brink of picking up my heartbeat. Natalie's mysterious manipulation of my very being started to really truly dawn on me. It wasn't just my size she controlled, it was my everything!

"I can make sure you never have another erection again... unless I say so," Natalie giggled, watching me squirm between holding my throat, and grabbing my dick. "You better get your fill each time I LET you get hard," she bent her knee to her chest to bring her foot up close to her face, putting us eye-to-eye, "because you never know if I'll make it your last."

Natalie laughed a powerful, evil, maniacle... sexy laugh. And so quickly, did EVERY part of her turn me on. Even that stench. I found myself huffing through my nose at this space I choked between her toes, still gagging at the foul odor, yet unable to get enough. My hand reached for my rigid member only to find that same feeling I came across when reaching for door knobs; two repelling magnets-- or less than I can/can't, but that I won't.

That's when I went crazy... "Goddess! No! Goddess, please!" I huffed her foot odor, "I NEED to cum! I-" huffed again, "NEED to come to the scent... the flavor of your almighty feet!" I was willing to say anything... not for food or water... for sexual release.

"Gee, I dunno," Natalie feigned consideration with a finger to her chin, "that video mom took seemed pretty revealing of your true colors, Caleb."

"Please!" I kicked my legs in sexual agony, "I was wrong! I was SO wrong! EVERYTHING about you is my one true desire! I need to show you! PLEASE!"

"Oh wow," she cooed, "what an eager little slave." Natalie set me down on the ground, "Tell you what; I'll let you cum, on one condition."

"Anything, goddess," I kissed her putrid feet.

"Eat that wad of toejam, THEN I'll let you cum!"

And to my disgust writing this, I charged for the nasty, slimy ball, "Yes, goddess! Right away!"

But she stopped me with my leash, driving me crazier as I felt my fingertip swipe the jam.

"No..." I whimpered as I was pulled back to her foot I was bound to, "No! Goddess! PLEASE!"

"Please, what?" Natalie sung with her hand to her ear.

"PLEASE GODDESS, LET ME EAT YOUR DECADENT TOEJAM SO I MAY CUM! PLEASE GODDESS! PLEASE!"

"Then have at it, sicko," she smiled.

Again, I charged for the mound but was stopped by the leash. After throwing another fit, she lifted her foot to sprawl onto the couch, cross her legs on the arm, and lounge.

"Guess you don't want to cum after all," Natalie mocked as she closed her eyes, not to rest, but to ignore me.

I dangled there, my collar choking me as I hung from her toes. The friction from her (in that moment of my manipulated arousal) perfect sole brought tears to my eyes as she met with my hardened member. I climbed up, past the ball of her foot, into the canopy of her toes, where I curled up into a fetal position, and wept at my situation.

At the time, I thought it was the fact that Natalie fell asleep that my intense arousal toward her feet dissipated. The dots didn't connect until far later in my slavery that my unstoppable erection made her conscious manipulation evident.

So in my mentally sober state, back to loathing the smell and taste of her soles, I tried to rub out this erection for the sake of my sleep. To my demise, I was still met with the same repelling-magnet sensation she cursed me with.

And I regret it to this day, but I thought back to my climb up her sole... that heavenly friction I felt against her foot. She warned me that this may be my last chance at an orgasm.

So I fell for her bluff.

The attraction for her feet Natalie forced upon me was long gone, but the influence she had on my member never subsided. I felt as if I molested myself, pushing my little dick between her toes, and so SO quickly cumming.

I felt like I sunk deeper and deeper into total servitude.

A bell chimed to catch my attention, followed by Karen's "Oh sissy!"

I hopped from my step stool at the kitchen sink-- a gift from Karen who so generously had it engraved with the phrase; 'Sissy Maid's.' I frantically dried my hands and hung the tray of desert cookies around my neck for delivery. My arrival into the living room, where Natalie and Karen sat to visit and relish over the new "toys" Karen bought me, was topped with my expected greeting of, "Yes, mommy mistress?" toward Karen.

"Nat tells me you haven't had any food or water since she took you in. Is that so?" Karen asked, surprisingly concerned.

I answered honestly, "Yes, mommy mistress," but neutrally.

Karen gave Natalie a playful slap on her shoulder, "Shame on you, Natalie! How do you expect him to perform at his best?"

"Desperation," Natalie suggested, "It gives him reason to do his best."

"But you have to follow through with your promises!" Karen pointed out.

I kept still, standing at the door way, two foot tall, donned as the maid I've become, still holding the cookies I lusted over. My heart pumped at the thought of obtaining sudtenance today.

"Well," Natalie started, hands at her hips, "do YOU think he's earned it?"

"Well that's not a fair evaluation from me. I've hardly had him to myself!"

The way they spoke about me like an object, like I wasn'r even there, hurt to my core.

"Maybe you should give him something to do to earn it," Natalie suggested.

Karen paused, actually considering what I could do to earn sustenance. "Anything I want?" she asked, sending a fearful shiver down my spine.

"Yeah," Natalie answered nonchalant, "I don't care."

Karen pondered further into the possible tasks she could put me through. An idea came to her, prompting further questioning; "You won't be mad?"

"Mom!" Natalie laughed, "I don't give a fuck what you do to him!"

My heart sunk at the possibilities.

"Well," Karen started, "there's something I've ALWAYS wanted to try, but I can't ever seem to find any willing men. Your father sure as hell didn't."

"What is it?" Natalie questioned.

A devious smile surfaced Karen's face, "I want him to eat my ass."

Natalie laughed out loud for a long while, "Mom, you've never had your ass eaten?"

Karen shook her head no.

"Go for it," she directed her mother (as opposed to me, standing in the room, waiting for orders). "How small do you want him?"

"I'm uh..." Karen seemed somewhat shy about her request, "I'm kind of thinking that I want to have him do it at like... six inches tall."

Natalie laughed further while I held back my gagging. The thought of licking this woman's ass hole, hidden away in those gargantuan cheeks, made me sink into dread from the inside.

"Done," Natalie said without any consideration, pinching her fingers together to shrink me down. The tray quickly became unmanageable, but I didn't lost any cookies.

She set me at the desired height. I stood in her living room tembling; pathetic in my maid garb and visibly afraid of what was to come. How am I supposed to do this? I've never licked an ass hole before!

Natalie plucked me up, smiling and subtly biting her tongue, "Here mom, lay down on the couch."

Karen eagerly obliged, pulling her pants and panties down and lying on her stomach. Natalie placed me on her right cheek.

"Alright, sissy," Natalie explained, "give my mom a nice hefty orgasm with that stupid little tongue and I'll... I'll give you a drink of water. I'll let her decide on if you get fed or not."

The ultimatum really made me consider my actions. Just Natalie's use of the word 'water' triggered a craving in me like no other. I knew if I asked for any other way, I'd be denied both, and probably put through worse.

"H-how should I...?" I peered into the crevice of her ass, big enough for me to slide down, but I'd definitely have to-

"Burrow your way in there," Natalie finished my thought. "I'm actually really looking forward to watching you dig your way into my mom's ass."

I paused, like a hesitant swimmer about to dive into a cold pool.

Natalie comanded me further by adding to her last statement: "... Willingly."

I looked up at Natalie, who stood there next to the couch, waiting for me to take action. I looked over at Karen, who peered over her shoulder at me, eagerness in her eyes. I gulped down the trace amounts of pride I had left, and slid down, trying-- and failing-- to keep my balance.

The ladies laughed as I fell face first, rolling into the tight area between Karen's ass cheeks, and quickly reaching the point in which I'd have to work my way in deeper.

My little arms pushed her thick, soft flesh apart as best I could. The bounce back from them disoriented me, as the idle muscle of her rear was stronger than I was, using all of my-- fatigued-- strength.

Karen shivered and cooed at my touch, while Natalie contained further laughter at my predicament, not wanting to ruin the arousal for her mother. The light of Natalie's living room disappeared unnervingly fast as my body became completely consumed by Karen's ass. I closed my eyes in disgust, but it was pointless in this dark cavern.

"How is it in there?" Karen asked.

"F-fine..." I wanted to die... maybe not like this, but I truly wished for death, "Fine... m-mommy mistress..."

I burrowed deeper, soon meeting with her hole that equalled the size of my face. After a pause, my tongue emerged, and lapped up her tight, star-shaped anus.

Karen jumped at the initial landing of my tongue, and let out a surprised yelp. Her relaxed body confirmed her approval of my soon-consistent upward licks that occurred closer and closer over time, until I found my tongue never returning to the inside of my dry, desperate mouth. My tears helped lubricate my active tongue.

"Mmm..." Karen hummed, before commanding me to lick in, "Circles," with her one word request.

I obeyed, and began tracing the outline of her ass hole. I felt it expand and retract at my work, almost like it breathed on me.

I say 'LIKE' it breathed on me, thankful it didn't... until it did... in a loud, gassy, hellish noise that would have made me vomit if I had eaten anything.

The women laughed as I dry-heaved and struggled to continue. Karen became frustrated with my struggle, and squeezed me tight with her cheeks. I never felt so restricted in my movements-- so helpless at her mercy.

"He's never gonna be able to finish me this way," Karen remarked.

"Think so?" Natalie responded.

"No...because..." Karen let out another massive puff of gas from her volcanic hole, "... that's why," and laughed. "Go grab the thing in that bag there," Karen directed Natalie to one of her many shopping bags.

I shuddered at Natalie's excited and half-laughing "Ohhhohoho..." as I heard the plastic bag rustle from outside of my fleshy-ass-prison.

Followed by Karen's command to, "Put it on him."

With that, Natalie grew me back to my usual two-foot tall state. I popped out of Karen's ass cheeks resembling-- and feeling like-- a piece of shit.

The women mocked the streaks down my face from violated tears. I gasped for full, fresh air, only for a moment before my mouth was invaded from behind, as a pink gag was forced into my small mouth. It truly didn't fit properly, but that didn't keep Natalie from using force to push it in, taking up every sqaure inch of my palet. The gag held a dildo at the end, pink to match my maid uniform, hanging and flopping from my mouth. At my two-foot size, the comparison to the dildo was comical to them.

Karen flipped over on the couch, now seated. Natalie quickly latched the leash to me and handed the end to her mother, who dragged me closer. I wept and moaned into the gag as Karen commanded me to, "Come here, sissy. Momma wants to fuck your face."

And so she did. I sat helpless on my rug-burnt knees as she thrusted her body into my little face; the dildo from my mouth sliding in and out of her pussy while her thighs took over the world of my peripherals.

Natalie stood and watched, hands on her hips, disappointed in her sissy slave and defiant in her power over me. She forced my eyes to stay open, and watch my molestation, through her contractual manipulation of me.

When the woman climaxed on me, her mucusy juices flodded my face. Karen's body relaxed against me and into the couch as her left leg rose and tucked beneath her right, squeezing my poor, defensless head from all sides. She sighed in blissful exhaustion and kept me there the rest of the night; the dildo protruding from my mouth still pushed deep into her wet womanhood.

I did not get water that night. I did not earn it.

A few days passed, still without food or water. How I managed to survive was beyond my comprehension at the time, but to my current understanding, its because of Natalie's control over me. I stay alive because she wants me to, with or without food and water. That doesn't change my desperation for it-- again unless she wants me to be.

Lucky for me-- or so I thought-- she's refrained from the foot stuff these past couple of days. Little did I know the hell she was prepared to put me through as I finished ironing her clothes for the day.

"Sissy!" Natalie simultaneously barked and sung from the foyer, summoning me at her beckon call.

I frantically charged to her-- now in the living room seated on the couch-- and dropped to my knees upon arrival. Natalie had just finished a morning run, which is out of her routine as she primarily works out at work on her lunch break. I greetted her with my usual, "Yes, goddess?"

"I wanted to test your devotion to me. I know you have a problem with my feet-- for whatever reason," she chuckled knowing the reason, "and I think it's time we do a bit of conditioning."

"Conditioning?" I didn't like the sound of this.

"Of course! Like Pavlov's dog," Natalie mocked, patting my head like a pet. "I want my sissy maid to love EVERYTHING about me, including the heavenly aroma of my feet. Now, sure, I could force it upon you at will, but I want your atrraction to be genuine. So, I'm going to condition your brain to become aroused by the scent."

I remained silent, on my knees, mouth agape at her manipulative demand.

"If you pass, I'll give you a drink of water," she offered, knowing damn well how to control me at my will.

I so desperately fell to my face at her freshly used tennis shoe, and begged, "Anything, goddess. Please. I'm so... so thirsty."

"Good boy," Natalie cooed, less than gently petting my head with her rubber sole. "Now, I'm sure you're aware that you haven't been able to masturbate for a while now," I was very aware that she kept my dick in a flaccid state, no matter how much I stimulated it, unless otherwise controlled by her  "Well, I propose that the ONLY orgasms you're allowed have to be to my perfect feet."

I hated the idea, "Okay... goddess..."

"Don't sound so eager," Natalie said sarcastically, "You will soon enough." With that Natalie began untying her shoes, but stopped, "Why am I doing this? I have an eager little sissy maid who wants to smell my sweaty feet, right?"

She stared at me, waiting for my, "Yes, goddess," and for me to being untying her shoes.

The foul stench began seeping out as the laces loosened. Natalie's feet smelled worse than they did days ago, and this became extremely evident the moment her heel popped from the shoe, breaking the seal between her foot and the outside world. My eyes watered as the scent hit me. It became more and more evident that my sense of smell and taste were stronger at smaller heights.

I let out an audible groan, which prompted Natalie to place her entire, soaking socked foot flat on my face-- which was small enough that it covered me, and then some. "Now come on, sissy, you'll never be properly conditioned with that mindset. Go ahead and stroke your little dicklet for me. Get it nice and hard for the smell."

I obliged, stroking my flaccid penis, getting nowhere with my arousal, much to both of our disappointment.

Natalie began (quite literally) peeling off her wet sock, "Come on, sissy. This is the only time you'll get to cum until I say so. And who knows when that will be! Maybe... never..."

My arm moved frantically to get it up. The combination of her foul smell and my desperation for water and sexual release made me weep.

"Poor thing," she teased, "I can tell you're trying."

"I am, goddess!" I wept.

Natalie's finger curled to command my erection, "I'll give you this one," but refrained from manipulating my inner arousal. She gave me the hard-on I needed, now I just had to force myself to cum to her rank, sweaty feet.

I vigorously stroked my cock, determined to bring myself to climax to Natalie's post-workout stench.

"That's it," she encouraged, soft in her tone, "That's a good little sissy maid," with emphasis on the 'little,' mocking my two-foot tall stature. "You're gonna learn to love that. I'm gonna go for a run, and you'll look out the window, eagerly waiting for my return. And when you see me, dripping and hot from such a rigorous run, you'll greet me-- on your knees-- at the door, ready to remove my shoes to take in that smell, whether I let you cum or not."

Her voice became part of the background to my focus. I tried not to listen to her demeaning hypothetical. And in my intense concentration, I did it. Without her control of my attraction. I came to the nasty feet of the woman who ruled my life.

Natalie clapped and cooed with joy, "Good boy!" and picked up her hypnotic, ice-cold water bottle. And then her sock... and put the sock over the bottle... then took aim for her freshly used tennis shoe. "Here's your reward..." Natalie mocked as she held back laughter.

I reached for the shoe, ready but less than willing to take the violated shoe water. Natalie's bare foot pushed my hands to my lap.

"Open," she commanded, my tiny mouth (embarrassingly) eager to open up for this horrid cocktail. Natalie met the heel of the runner with my lips, and tilted, pouring the rank beverage down my throat. "That's it... drink it all up." The refreshing feeling this shoe water gave me brings back humiliation to this day. So cold, yet burning and salty from trace amounts of sweat and stench.

I chugged it, crying tears of joy from the thirst quenching releif from Natalie's home brew. I fell to thr floor in embarrassment.

"Good sissy," Natalie stood from the couch, "Now, draw me a bath."

Natalie baptized the sweat off of her in a bubble bath of epsom salts stirred by me, struggling to reach into the tub at my shrunken height. Of course, I was the one to scrub her body-- though her feet were an area she consistently kept me from when I bathed her. I learned on this day why that was.

"Goddess?" I said, our of turn.

"What, sissy?" Natalie answered, less than patient.

"C-can I wash your feet?" I asked, hoping to hit the reset on her hellish foot smell.

"You want to wash my feet?" Natalie asked, annoyed.

I nodded my head, yes. "Please? Th-they..." I had to be careful with my choice of words, "... the state they're in... they could use..."

"The fuck are you trying to say?"

"I... I think they could just... use more cleaning than once a week..." I would later eat those words.

"What are you suggesting?" Before I could answer, she did for me, "You want to clean my feet everyday?"

The idea of fresh clean feet was actually allurring to me in that moment, which made me shudder. I far too eagerly answered, "Yes goddess! Please?"

Natalie smirked, devilishly, "How eager... I'm proud of you, sissy." My heart fluttered at her kind words, which simultaneously made me hate myself at this excitement. "Okay. I'll let you clean my feet, every day."

I quickly reached the soapy sponge to Natalie's feet, to which she lifted them out of my reach.

"Ah, ah, ah..." she cooed, "You will clean my feet, everyday, by my standards."

"B-by your...? I was incrrdibly confused.

"That's right," Natalie cut me off. "Don't worry, sissy, you'll get what you want... on my terms."

"Y-your terms, goddess?" I asked, nervously.

"Yes. You'll see, soon enough." Natalie presented her foot to me at eye level, "Give us a kiss to seal the deal."

I begrudgingly obliged, worried as to what 'her terms' pertained to.

Natalie left for work, leaving me home to do my chores for the day. That is, not before stuffing my mouth with her running socks from earlier, puffing my cheeks full of her flavor, and securing the tennis shoe I never ended up taking off from her little "conditioning" session to my face. At the size she left me, the whole lower half of my face, from the bottom of my chin to the bridge of my nose, fit in that awful shoe. I shuddered all day at the smell, never quite getting used to it's freshness. Whatever she meant by a daily cleaning of her feet "under her terms" scared me.

But I got to work. Shoe to my face or not, I had more success today than the first day she left me to do chores. Luckily I didn't have a closet full of foul smelling shoes to clean. I was able to properly organize them today, which ended up scoring me some points with her, as the task wasn't on the list.

My final task, dinner, plated and ready to eat upon her arrival, was the hardest. Somewhat physically, given my two-foot size and inability to reach the counter, but mostly mentally, as the smell of food furthered my intense hunger, still not appeased. When would she ever feed me? I knew I had to speak up soon.

So she arrived home, I stood in the kitchen finishing setting the table. "Not bad," Natalie complimented-- the good feeling of her words making me shudder, "I'll let it slide this time, but next time, I expect you at the door, on your knees, waiting to greet me. Got it?"

I dropped to my knees in order to comply, "Yeth, goddeth," I answered as best I could through her socks.

"Oh my god," she laughed, "I forgot about the socks. Haha!" Natalie untied the shoe from my face and pinched the socks from my mouth.

I knew what she wanted to hear next, "Thank you goddess."

Natalie sat at the table and started eating. I struggled to find the right time to speak up regarding my intense hunger. I had to dive in and go for it.

"Goddess?" I started, humbled on my knees at her side.

She answered, "Hm?" with a mouthful.

"I'm... I'm so hungry... I need food, goddess. Please... It's been days."

"How hungry are you?" she inquired, not even looking at me.

"So, SO hungry..."

"Think you can eat a lot?"

I nodded, yes.

With that, she started shrinking me.

"G-goddess?" I asked, fearing her plans for me.

"The smaller you are, the less I have to feed you, the more it feels like you ate. Win, win. Right, slave?"

I suppose she made a good point. But I still wasn't prepared, despite my eagerness responding, "Yes, goddess. You're absolutely right!"

"I know," Natalie answered, so matter of fact. When I reached two inches, she commanded, "Under the table."

My tiny body pitter pattered under the table. The legs around me resembled some strange forest. And of course, Natalie's demented high heels. Why? Out of all the nasty shoes she has that I cleaned out with my tongue and lungs, why these?

"So," she started, speaking to me from above, "you're really, really hungry, eh?"

"Y-yes goddes," my honesty screamed from me, despite my gentle, begging tone.

"What do you want to eat?"

Then, I picked the wrong choice; "Anything!" Just to get fed.

"Oh wow... anything?" Natalie asked, feigning shock.

"Yes goddess," she couldn't see it, but I begged on my knees to her, "anything."

"Well," Natalie started, scooting her chair back to watch me underneath the table at her feet, "I," she wiped her face, "was generous enough to make you something to eat today."

"R-really?" I gazed at her in equal parts fear and gratitude.

"Mhm. I slaved away at it all day long."

Before I could ask what it was, she gave me the unexpected and unthinkable.

Natalie's foot broke the seal keeping her daily stench in her heel. Even after a proper bath this morning, how? I know I didn't scrub them, but I assumed the stench would have weakened at least somewhat. And of course, as she always found ways to torture me, there was my dinner. The first thing I ate in days. I wanted to vomit, but knew she'd be offended. Not that I had much to vomit. I just wretched at the sight and fell to my knees keeping my eyes to the ground thinking about my life that is to come. Not only in this meal, but what I might eat next, what I might drink next... what could come closer to killing me next.

Before me, airing out in Natalie's hellish high heels, sat two pieces of (once) white bread; damp, and nearly soggy from her day worth of bare foot sweat, and spotted black where her toes lay and where the ball of her foot rests. At my height, I could see the warped air trickle above the opening of the shoe like a mirage on a hot day.

"You said anything," godammit, "right, Caleb?"

I felt backed in a corner, "Yes, goddess..."

"Then eat up, slave."

I took too long, contemplating my options and trying to cope with my situation. She eventually place her foot back in the shoe.

"Don't want it, then? Fine. Starve. I'll keep you alive. And you wont have another opportunity for food until I see all of your ribs."

She hated me. I felt her hate in the heat of her foot. Despite the hate, she rose it out of the shoe again to show me my dinner.

"Last chance, sissy," she threatened, looking down at my sickened body.

I complied. I crawled to the shoe, weeping and gagging at what my life had become. My jittery hand reached for the rancid, sweat soaked bread. That is, until it couldn't.

Those demonic, manipulative powers that kept me from touching doorknobs, faucets, my own dick, she used on this bread. No doubt to make me beg.

So I did just that; "Goddess! Why, goddess?! Why?!" My desperately hungry body lunged for the slice in her shoe. And actually landed on it. I sunk into it like snow.

"See how easily I can control you? How easily I can keep you from the things you need? The things you love? All the while, keeping you alive, no matter the circumstances.

Natalie's moist, red, fleshy ped entered the shoe, with me and the bread in it. I called out for her, "Goddess!" and felt the pain of having every bone crushed in my body at once. I felt what it's like to have your organs burst from pressure, like defenless little bubbles.

But I lived. Nothing broken. Nothing burst. Just like she said.

"Again," she continued, watching the hands of my two-inch body feel every part of me for any wounds, any broken bones, any bleeding, "I rule you. I control you. I decide whethere and when you live or die. When you break a bone, when you leave the house, when you can speak," her big toe pushed my face into the filthy bread, "and when you eat."

She kept me held in the goopy slice, watching my body squirm in silence. Only when I let up, did she. When I gave in and laid there; the toe of my ex fiance burying my face into a dirty, sweaty piece of once-white bread.

My head popped out of the filth without much ease, the wet bread holding me in like glue.

"Tell me how hungru you are, Caleb."

"So, so, SO hungry, goddess. I'm starving. Help me. Help me, PLEASE!" Little did she know, my cries for help were not addressed toward her.

Those red lips, as always, complimented her white teeth in a crooked smile. "Help yourself," she teased, "All of it. I want my shoes CLEAN!"

My hands dug into the mess. I picked up a glob of sweaty bread from the heel-- the consistency barely keeping shape in my shakey hand. I brought it to my mouth, the flavor and smell hitting me before contact.

"I want you to thank me, after EVERY bite," Natalie demanded, arms crossed, watching me torture myself.

I looked her in the eye and pushed the glob into my mouth. My eyes watered at the salty, acidic flavor that paired with the rancid, odorous smell. I barely had to chew. I didn't want to. I hardly could from my weakened, starving state. Each clamp of my jaw made me wretch, dry, nearly unable to swallow. But I did, and just as I was told, replied; "Thank you, goddess," with tears streaming down my face.

The filthy bread stuck to my pink dress. I had to eat that up too in the end. The blacked toe prints felt sandy and gritty in my mouth. And again, "Thank you, goddess."

"You're welcome," she said so sweetly, leaning over to summon a stringy bead of spit onto her toes. "Here," she said, presenting them to me, "take a drink."

I knew better than to disobey. I wrapped my arms around her big toe and slurped as the spit slithered down my throat and on my body. I drank it like a baby-- her big toe my mother's breast.

And again, I said, "Thank you, goddess."

It took an hour to force down the filthy shoe-bread. That is, for one shoe. The other took just as long. Natalie was reluctant, but generous enough to free me from the feeling of being stuffed. By the time I actually finished, I laid her her high heel. Traumatized.

And yet, I still wasn't done. The crumbs, the streaks of wet goop left over on the insole. I crouched to my hands and knees and lapped it up. At this point, the act od reciting "Thank you, goddess," became automatic each time some slithered and burned down my throat.

Natalie's gigantic feet pitter pattered on the tile floor of the kitchen to retrieve me. I laid in her heel face up as she loomed over my defeated form, casting a shadow. Her eyes locked on to me with fury. Her pink flannel pajamas both hid, and showed off the curves of her body. How I hated her beauty.

I felt the push of air on me as she crouched, arms crossed, "Ready for your end of our little bargain?"

"My little...?" Her fingers cut me off as she peeled me from the insole of her (relativley) freshly (licked) clean heel. Was I not holding up my end of the bargain? What the hell was all of this if not my outcome of signing my life away in her contract?

"Don't you remember?" I dangled by my leg in her pinching grip, "We had a deal," she spoke, breathy and warm on my body.

Natalie winced at the filth I'd become, and groaned before removing my maid uniform and rinsing me off in the sink with some hand soap. Her fingers swiped across me, rinsing the stenchy filth from my body. It was the greatest I'd felt since my slavery.

"Don't you remember this morning, Caleb?" Natalie spoke, so gently as she massaged the visible shame from me. "Our deal." She turned the water off, patted me down, and and redressed me into my sissy garmet.

My back laid flush with her palm as I caught my breath from the water. A smile of relief forced itself onto me, "Oh, thank you, goddess."

Natalie's face encompassed my whole field of vision, smiling and alarmingly eager. "Remember this morning, when you BEGGED to lick my feet clean, EVERY night?"

The intense bliss I felt from even the mildest comfort made me delerious, as I rolled to my side and answered, "Mmm... yeah," and caught myself, "What?!"

"You heard me, young man. You promised-- you BEGGED to lick my feet clean every single day. Because you just couldn't get enough from a weekly cleaning." Her finger gently stroked my fearful body, "You sealed the deal with a kiss," and planted her voluptuous, soft lips on my entire body. I hate how much I loved the feeling.

"I-I didn't say anything about licking..." I responded.

"Oh, but Caleb, don't you remember? The deal was that you could clean my feet every single day-- you greedy little slave-- ...by my own terms."

I remembered. Yeah. My chest rose and fell in anticipation. Natalie's wide, white eyes froze me like a deer, and her gaze came from those headlights.

And that eagerness-- that demented eagerness she beamed with every day, to make me debase myself deeper and deeper into a hole of devotion, servitude, and willing humiliation... I feared that psychotic excitement she wasn't afraid to hide.

She approached me with a smile, closing in to attach the leash to my collar. "No..." I pleaded-- not in protest, but in defeat, "No..."

Natalie got up on her bed, and slipped the other end to her ring toe.

"E-e-every day?" I attempted to negotiate.

But she had none of it, "Everyday, Caleb," giving the slack of the leash just the lightest tug, upon connecting to her, to knock me down to my face, just for fun.

I struggled to push myself up from the plush of her sheets. "B-but Nata- ... goddess... isn't that just a tad excessive?"

Natalie picked up her phone and moved her attention away from me, "Don't think so," so matter of fact. Because in her mind, it was fact.

And again, I complained, "Every day?"

Natalie sighed, irritated, and set her phone down, "I fed you today. Be thankful."

"I-I am, bu-"

"Do not EVER use the word 'but' with me. If ninety percent of the words from your sissy mouth aren't a sweet, dainty, and eager to please," she raised her hands to pretend to curtsy, "'Yes goddes,' then you've had a bad day in my book. Got it?"

I didn't hesitate, "Yes, goddess," my voice cracked, trying to seem (pathetically) dainty for her. I ended up sounding afraid, if anything.

I lapped up the smooth, salty feet of my vengeful goddess. She layed back, lounging and scrolling away on her phone with her feet reaching to the end of the bed. As per usual, the crevices between her toes, and those hard-to-reach wrinkles are the worst. Natalie lavished in my panicked work ethic, knowing she's be equally satisfied by my blind, utter devotion.

"Caleb," Natalie started, lowering her phone to look at me.

"Yes, goddess?" I answered, quick to return my tongue to my task.

"What's my shoe size?"

My eyes widened, my tongue froze in the middle of the wrinkle that outlined the ball of her foor.

"You don't know, do you?"

"Uh..." This was the most idiotic answer I gave, because I just blurted a random number and hoped for the best; "Like, seven."

"Like seven?" Natalie flicked her toes once to whip the leash and knock me over.

"Which foot has a beauty mark on top of it?"

I thought this was a test, "Both? ... Of them?"

Another, harder flick. I made some distance off the ground that time. "How many wrinkles?"

"Oh come on, YOU don't even know that!"

Natalie clapped her feet together, caging me in her toes, head, face, and all. The sickening scent subsided a bit, but I... I still had work to do.

"I want you to keep this thought in your head," she started, "Tonight, as you fulfill your end of our bargain, I want this to stay in your head, on repeat. Call it your... your mantra. Your mantra that you recite as you worship your goddess." She pulled her feet back, sliding them flat on the bed, dragging me with them. Her knees held up by one arm as the other playfully pet my hair. "Are you ready? Repeat after me: 'I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life.'"

I didn't repeat-- still and silent at her demented request for brainwashing.

She chuckled in a fake, impatient smile. "Okay, try again... Ready? 'I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life.' Now you."

"I-I-"

"No! No stuttering. Clear as day, smooth as silk. Go."

"I lick Nata-"

"Uh uh- GODDESS Natalie. Again, from the top."

I dove in to my self-inflicted conditioning; "I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life."

"Again," she sang, her palms resting on the tops of her feet.

"I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life."

"Again."

"I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life."

"Again."

"I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life."

Again.

"I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life."

Again.

"I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life."

I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life.

I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life.

So simple and matter of fact. No ifs, ands or buts. No 'I will lick...' No 'clean [comma] every day...' Not even the 'rest of my life...' It just reaches the point like a fact.

I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life.

I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life.

What goes up must come down. Objects in motion stay in motion. And I lick goddess Natalie's feet clean every day of my life. 

It didn't take long for Natalie to develop a routine with me. Wake up trying to shake the prior day off, get Natalie ready for the day, chores, dinner, worship my goddess, bed, and again. This would be my usual, a sort of eternal 9-5. But there were outliers. At least (key word being: LEAST) once a week, I'd get to spend the day with Natalie. And I'd later learn to be somewhat thankful for these specific days with her, as the latter option when leaving the house consists of me being her two-foot tall humble servant that was ready at her beck and call. I'll go over those days at a later date.

"Let's find out, then," Natalie tested, after asking if I was ready to behave during her first 'Bring your sissy-maid to work day.' She wheeled her office chair back and curled her finger to, "Come here."

I obliged, fondling my fingers, anxious.

She pointed under here desk, where I found the strangest, most terrifying mechanism yet. A hole revealed the dark underside of the floor, while a latch locked a door that fit so perfectly.

"W-wh-what's that?" I tried to ask casually, but came out childlike and pathetic.

"Isn't it great? I had it installed not long ago." Natalie proceeded to open the latch and lift the door. Two steps, made for somebody normal-sized, led to a comically small stool that read 'Sissy maid's' engraved on the seat. No doubt, probably a gift from Karen. Natalie explained the purpose to this mysterious floor-box; "I think you know what I'm gonna use this for. Just another reminder of your place here: beneath my feet."

I froze between my promise to obey my goddess, or to protest this ridiculous demand at torture.

"The best part about it..." Natalie started, "Well, I thought it would be annoying when I first realized this, but I'm looking at it in a new light... The best part about this little head hole is that it can only be willingly entered." What did she mean? "See, I'll have to hold the door until you're seated on your little pauper throne here. You can't do both, otherwise you won't make it down the stairs, or get your head through." She kept the hole just big enough to fit through so specifically shaped to my head. "I can't physically force you down, because I have to hold the door. I can't have somebody hold the door for me-- or vice versa-- because there isn't enough room. I could use my less than subtle charm," she referenced tha manipulative contractual control she has over me, "but I don't want to." One leg draped over the other, her chin draped over the top of her hand. An eager, toothy smile stabbed her gaze into me. "So, Caleb," I dreaded, "get in."

There was some emotion force that draped me like a weighted blanket, but I was a lowly ant. I gazed down into the torture hole Natalie installed beneath her desk. No doubt, I-- and I'm sure you, dear reader-- know what this hole will be used for. But I promised. I'd be good just moments ago. Going back on my word now would be less than ideal for me, no doubt.

My two foot body took the first step, willingly, just as Natalie promised. She cooed with glee at my compliance. The next step bit Natalie's finger in excitement. Hitting the ground level of this chamber lifted her brow, taking her eyelids with it. Overexcited, she kept bumping the lid onto my head; "Come on, sissy, come one. Sit down. Get in your seat. I've been wanting to test this out for days."

I sat down, and choked up as the door passed over me, giving my head-- and only my head-- access to the world outside my prison. Natalie impatiently locked the latch with a padlock. "I-I won't go anywhere, goddess. You don't have to l-lock it."

Natalie removed the key from the from the pad and locked eyes with me-- her tongue peeked through her pearly white teeth, "But I want to."

Fair enough... I guess...

There I sat, in a hole beneath my ex-fiance's desk; my head peeking out, waiting to be presented with her rancid feet. All coming together by no force but my own... like she said; willingly.

I winced, bracing for impact as Natalie's office chair rolled in at full speed. I thought the wheels would run over my face, but I was lucky enough they didn't. Two nylon-encased feet popped out of the high heels with my vulnerable head in between. I had no choice. I knew fighting woult be fruitless. I closed my eyes--

"Hey," Natalie barked, interrupting my narrative, "Keep your eyes open." Seriously? I obliged, "I want you to see me toying with you."

I opened up my eyes, and saw her two nylong feet cover my face, with no hesitation.

"Hm," Natalie sounded disappointed, "Just a little too short." With that, I grew, just enough that my neck just barely touched the head hole I trapped myself in. Any bigger and I'd choke. Not that choking was anything new to me at this point.

And she went about her day, fondling me like a fidget spinner for feet. I learned to go with her motions; tips of her toes on my lips means to open, flat on my mouth means kiss-- if not kiss, she give me a little toe tap to let me know, anything on my nose, I take deep... deep breaths.

She had a few clients while I was locked in my chamber. I'm incredibly thankful that she's been so tame with me today. I guess this is just Natalie in work-mode.

Lunch came around and Natalie decided to have her daily workout. She left me in my hole with her high heel over my face. I ruminated on how much I've grown used to this horrid stench. How peaceful of a day I had locked under my ex's desk, worshipping her nasty nylon feet. I felt like I let myself down falling this far into her control.

She had to have known that I felt this conflicting feeling of peace and remorse. I say that because I grew an erection despite her rancid high heel stench covering my face. Would she let me touch it? Sure enough, yeah. I figured that I'm all alone here... and her office looks empty with me down here... so nobody would know if I just... Was this a gift? A trap? Would she know if I played dumb?

Before I could answer myself, I found my hand already circling my tip. I couldn't escape the vinegary scent, so I accepted it. And it stuck to me. It burned into my head. It became a part of me... or I a part of it. In such a short time for me to forget, my tongue met the insole of Natalie's heel. When the over-the-top, fresh, salty flavor burned my tongue, I came... and came to from my second-long blackout.

I opened my eyes and sat in ashamed, releived silence. Like when you hit a pot hole while driving so hard that you turn your music down and drive in silence at your frustration. It pains me how easily I was able to surpress the memory of what I did. It was so easy for me to go about my day like normal.

Natalie returned from her lunch workout, and so nonchalantly shoved her sweat socks in my mouth to suck the moisture out. At my size, they filled my mouth, stretching my cheeks, tickling my throat, and sticking from my mouth.

Despite my task at hand, Natalie opened the hatch to my cell holding a manilla envelope set for delivery, "Alright, I need you to-" she stared puzzled at the mess I made down there and then smiled. The  started snickering.

"What?" I barked through the sweat socks, trying to play dumb.

"Make a little mess there, Caleb?" she asked, pulling the socks out from my palet.

"Yeah, well... er... y-yes goddess..."

"Now what in the world prompted that?" she asked, holding her hand to her mouth.

"You know damn well!" I argued, turning red in the face, accusing her of using that psychic manipulation on my vulnerable arousal.

Natalie audibly laughed, but tried to hold it back, "No... I can't say I do."

I held my breath in shock. "W-what?" The red in my face hid the over-the-top blush on my cheeks. "You mean you didn't..."

She didn't say a word. She didn't need to.I snatched up the envelope and stormed for the door.

Pinched in her fingers, her damp socks swung like a hypnotic pendant, "Oh, sissy!" she ordered, far louder than she ever commanded before here in her office.

I saw people poke their heads from their offices, cubicles, whever they were in an earshot of her call. I turned to avoid facing them a little longer.

"You almost forgot your little treat!" Natalie laughed.

I felt so ashamed. Angry even. At her. At myself. At the parts of me that I can't control; instinct. I turned, avoiding eye contact until she forced my eyes to lock onto hers with that unnerving control she has over me. I snatched the sweat socks up, and with tears in my eyes, put them in my mouth myself.

And with that, she brought my erection back to life; this time under her discretion.

As I stormed out to deliver the envelope, she added, "Don't think I'm gonna let you off so easy." I kept walking. "After all, you didn't have my permission."

I storme down the halls of the office, taking an extremely long way as I turned corners when I saw people on my route. Socks on my mouth, and an uninvited tent in my pants. I brought the envelope to who would become my next worst nightmare.