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Author's Chapter Notes:

This was originally supposed to be an entry into ETZ's Aristocracy contest from last December, but I simply failed to write it. Since then I've made halting progress, but I ultimately stopped a few months ago and never completed it. Still, the place where I did stop was a good ending point... so here you are! Expect lots of sweaty feet. =]

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Natasha hated her job. Every day it was an unending assembly line of toes and feet, and due to her upper-crust clientele, most of them dwarfed her entire body. There was something inherently humiliating about being a pedicurist, and it didn't help that Natasha could fit her whole head in the crevice between her customers' toes. As with all things in life, she did it for the money.

Presently, she dipped a large paint brush into a vat of acrid pink nail polish before applying it evenly onto the toenail in front of her. While she disliked the metallic scent of nail polish, she disliked the sour stench of sweaty feet even more. She couldn't believe how bad some of these ladies' feet stank, especially considering how wealthy they were.

"Sorry if they smell a little," a feminine voice boomed down to her. For some reason, apologies made it worse. "I've just been too busy to really care for them." The insufferable woman paused. "I guess that's what you're here for!" She giggled at her own joke, her eyes mirthful as they peeked down at her from over a magazine. Natasha smiled half-heartedly before returning to the task at hand.

A half hour later, all ten toenails had been immaculately painted, each of them with a different elaborate design stenciled on. The wealthy young lady smiled down at her and wiggled her toes; at least she appreciated Natasha's handiwork. "Thanks," she said while typing into her phone. "Here's a tip!" The phone chimed, and the lady slipped her feet back into her designer heels before strutting out of the salon.

The instant the door shut, Natasha whipped out her phone, eager to see how much money the woman had tipped her. The big bimbo had actually seemed pretty bitchy, but that last comment lit the fire of hope in her chest. The number on the screen extinguished said fire like a match in a monsoon.

"One fucking credit?!" spat Natasha. The bitch had even written a note: Thanks for being my footslave for the day!

Bile welled up in the back of her throat. It took every ounce of willpower to keep herself from hurling her phone. As sad as her job made her, the fact that it was the best paying job she could find made it worse. While she was far from destitute, she craved the size and power a higher pay scale would afford her. She wanted it so badly she could scream, and it didn't help that each day she toiled at the feet and toes of the women she wanted to become. Staring at the paltry sum in her bank account, she hung her head in despair. How could this day get any worse?

The door to the salon swung open, and a dreadfully familiar voice greeted the owner (herself a beautiful blond woman). "Natasha? Sure, she just got done with a client," the owner said, smiling broadly. Natasha watched with a mixture of hatred and fear as both women began heading to her booth. Encased in expensive leather, their tremendous feet came to rest uncomfortably close to her. Neither of them looked down as they discussed services and pricing. After exchanging a few last pleasantries, the owner walked away, but not before off-handedly saying, "My name is Felicia if you need anything. Oh, and feel free to have Natasha do whatever you'd like! Satisfation guaranteed."

Natasha was literally trembling as she forced herself to make eye contact with her new customer -- Paige Ménière. She had been tormenting Natasha since middle school, and while Paige's departure to college had offered her a few months' relief, Paige had clearly not forgotten about her. Her malicious smirk said it all.

"Well hi there Natasha!" she said cheerfully. "I didn't realize you worked here," she lied, a lie made all the worse because Paige knew Natasha heard her conversation with Sasha. "I'm just in town for winter break. How're you doing? It must be so nice not having to go to college." Natasha didn't respond, her cheeks burning at Paige's condescension. "Anyway, I just wanted to get a quick foot massage if you don't mind. I've been shopping all day today and right before that I went on a five-mile run, so my feet could definitely use a little pampering!"

Paige took off her shiny black leather pumps, her tremendous feet startling Natasha with both their size and their awful smell. Without warning, Paige's big toe collided with her torso, sending her sprawling to the ground. "Oops!" giggled Paige. "I gotta be more careful."

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Natasha struggled to her feet while Paige sank into the luxurious armchair provided to customers. The giant bitch wore a surprisingly unassuming outfit consisting of jean shorts and a black blouse, but Natasha knew better -- each piece of clothing was probably worth an entire month of her salary.

"Get to work please," commanded Paige in a sickly sweet tone. Natasha wished with all of her heart that their roles were reversed.

Swallowing the last vestiges of her pride, Natasha walked up to the bare soles -- each one as long as she was tall -- and began kneading the flesh with her bare hands. From this close up, it became excruciatingly apparent how terribly Paige's feet really stank. The stench hit her like a punch to the face, and no amount of mouth breathing prevented it from flooding her nostrils. She had dealt with customers' smelly feet in the past, but they had never actively sought to torment her in the way Paige was. Clearly, the vile bitch had arranged her day such that her feet were as ripe as possible. With tears welling in her eyes, Natasha toiled away at the feet of her worst enemy, acutely aware of her own humiliation. By the time she finished, the smell of feet permeated her clothes and skin, and she could barely contain her vomit.

"That was nice," said Paige, "but I think for you to really show your appreciation of my feet, you'll have to do something more." She put her index finger to her lips, but Natasha knew that the dumb bitch had never had an original thought in her life. "Why don't you... oh I dunno... lick my feet."

"Fuck no," spat Natasha. She spun around and began marching away, but her progress was immediately impeded by Paige's foot slamming down in front of her. Before Natasha could react, the foot swept towards her and knocked her down. The crushing weight of that same foot came to rest on her back, pressing her into the floor like a rotten mattress.

"Oh Felicia," called Paige in a singsong voice. Natasha heard the woman's high-heels click-clacking their way over. Paige's toes pressed down on her shoulders, but she could still twist her head around and see Felicia's face as she approached. When the blond woman cast a disdainful glance in her direction, Natasha knew she was in trouble.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Your employee here is refusing to show my feet the respect they deserve," explained Paige, still in that aggravating tone.

"Please, Ms. Felicia, she wants me to lick her feet!" Natasha pleaded.

"Was I speaking to you?" hissed Felicia, not even bothering to look in her direction. "I'm so sorry about that. She will be most certainly disciplined. In fact, why don't you stay and help me with her punishment? It's on me."

Natasha couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was a great employee who never showed up late and always followed instructions. While she had frequently been mistreated at work by bitchy customers, never had she been asked to do something so vile -- she assumed Felicia would protect her!

Natasha watched in growing horror as Felicia removed her trendy designer shoes. Her toes came to rest directly in front of her, instantly tainting the air with the sour scent of sweat and worn leather. "Since you're clearly not used to licking feet," said Felicia, "we will be giving you a crash course. You will lick every inch of our feet, including and especially between our toes. You will remove any dirt and grime you find there with your mouth, and you will swallow it. And you will be grateful for the privilege. Understand?"

Natasha felt her heart plummet. She already stank from massaging Paige's disgusting feet -- she dreaded the thought of tasting that filth.

"Oh dear, Nat, you're really in deep shit now," crowed Paige. "You should've just licked mine when I asked instead of being a stubborn bitch." The toes and feet that held her down relented, allowing Natasha to crawl out. On hands and knees, she craned her neck out to Felicia's toes, each one the size of her head.

Then she was drenched. Natasha wailed as a slimy, viscous fuild covered her head and soaked through her clothes. She wiped it and her tears away with her hand, unable to prevent herself from swallowing what was obviously spit. "Don't start with my feet you pathetic worm," scolded Felicia. "Do the customer's. How can you be so dense?" Natasha heard her boss bringing up some more saliva, and a second later she was drenched again. "If any of my spit gets on the customer's feet, you'll be sorry."

"She should be thanking you for the bath," laughed Paige. "The poor bitch probably can't afford to bathe judging by her stink." Natasha wanted to scream from the heart-ripping unfairness of it all. Instead, she kneeled before Paige's rancid-smelling toes and began to dutifully lick. Surprisingly, it tasted worse than she had imagined. The combination of dirt and sweat that hand accumulated on the huge toes in front of her made her stomach churn. Tears stung at her eyes more from the sharp, vomit-inducing taste than the humiliation. "Get your head between my toes... you pathetic worm!" The repeated insult sent both of her tormentors into fits of giggles. "Sorry, I just had to borrow that term," remarked Paige.

"I'm glad you like it," said Felicia, as if someone had complimented her purse.

Meanwhile, Natasha had forced her face into the crevice between Paige's big and second toe. Not only did the stench intensify, but the skin there actively perspired. The foul liquid burned her tongue like acid. To make matters worse, the giant bitch began squeezing Natasha's head with her toes. The poor girl yelped in pain, eliciting peals of laughter.

With each excruciating second, Natasha felt more and more of her humanity seeping away. She had never been so demeaned. It was true that Paige had always found ways to torture less affluent people, but at least in school their teachers were there to protect them. Now her "protector" was actively participating in her degradation.

Natasha had just finished licking the sweat from Paige's last toe when she felt two enormous fingers grab her by the legs. She screamed as the floor sped away, the G-forces threatening to rip out the contents of her stomach. Her head whiplashed backwards as she came to a halt, and she dangled helplessly from what felt like five stories in the air. Felicia's icy blue eyes pierced into Natasha, and her warm breath trapped her in a suffocating embrace.

"Do you want to keep your job, you pathetic worm?" hissed Felicia. Her bared teeth sent shivers down Natasha's spine.

"Y-y-yes, ma'am," blubbered Natasha, her tears running down her forehead and into her hair. She knew that this was the best job she could ever hope to get. She simply could not afford to lose it.

"Then you must learn to appreciate -- no, worship -- the feet of our exclusive clientele. Our customers work very hard each and every day to get their status, and as such even their lowliest body part deserves your utmost respect -- especially in light of how worthless you are. Since you're clearly in need of it, I'm going to graciously give you a second chance." With that, Felicia lowered her back on the ground, and with a swipe of her foot, she positioned her tan designer heel in front of her tiny victim. "Get in," she pointed, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Natasha hesitated, her throat constricting in terror.

She felt a massive weight nudge her back. "Come on now," cooed Paige, as if encouraging a small puppy. "Climb into her shoe. Don't you want to keep your job?"

Natasha choked back sobs and wiped her face before climbing into the still-warm shoe. "Lay down on your back with your head in the toe section," ordered Felicia. The shoe was like a too large coffin for Natasha, and her entire body fit easily along the sloping arch. The smell inside Felicia's shoe dominated her other senses, and her racking sobs only worsened the situation by forcing her to inhale more of the stench. Her last sight for the rest of the day was Felicia and Paige's smug expressions -- that and Felicia's descending sole. The way her big and second toe wrapped around her head felt like being buried alive.

"Now be sure to lick between my toes while you're in there." Felicia's voice was slightly muffled through the leather prison. "If you fail to worship my feet in the way they deserve, I'll have no choice but to fire you." Paige's gleeful laughter reverberated from above. Claustrophobia began to set in even as she reached her tongue out to please her captor.



It had been utter hell, but somehow Natasha had survived. Hours upon hours beneath the crushing weight of her employer had left her feeling like she had been hit by a train -- over and over again. If the sheer pressure wasn’t enough, both the stink and sweat combined to add to the torture. With her head acting as a de-facto toe spreader, Natasha bore the full brunt of the hideous stench between Felicia’s toes. Worse yet, Natasha knew that she must follow Felicia’s instructions to the letter; by the end of the day, her tongue had been rubbed raw from continuously licking Felicia’s disgusting flesh, and she had swallowed stomach-churning amounts of sweat and filth. And it seemed like Felicia was deriving some kind of sick pleasure from her misery: every time Natasha so much as paused, the giant bitch squeezed her head like a vice. Felicia’s sweat drowned the tears streaming down Natasha’s face.

When Felicia finally released her, tilting her designer pump and depositing its contents onto the floor, Natasha was barely conscious. She was only dimly aware when Felicia’s big toe collided with her face, jolting her into wakefulness.

“You’re so pathetic,” laughed the giantess before theatrically bringing more saliva into her mouth. Natasha cringed instinctively before the inevitable dousing by her tormentor’s spit. “If you want your job, you’ll worship my feet like the worm you are.”

Reminded of the stakes, Natasha dragged herself towards Felicia’s feet and began to lick the smelly toes of her employer. By this point, she had become well accustomed to Felicia’s fragrance, so it didn’t bother her too much -- what stung more was the utter humiliation she felt as she prostrated herself before this woman just for the opportunity to prostrate herself for other women. Reaching her tongue out, she scraped it against Felicia’s sweaty skin, almost vomiting from the acrid flavors assaulting her taste buds.

“Enough,” said Felicia finally. Natasha looked up at the blonde beauty hopefully. “You’ve done an absolutely terrible job showing your appreciation for my feet. Worm that you are, you can’t even do that correctly. No, I think you should be begging me for your life.”

Without warning, Felicia’s sole blocked out her vision and came crashing down, pinning her to the floor. The pressure intensified immediately, and her ribs groaned in protest. “You really can’t find good help these days. It’s like your brains shrink with your little bodies. How hard can it be to lick my feet?” As Felicia applied more of her weight to her helpless employee, stars exploded in Natasha’s vision. Soon enough, each breath became a battle.

And then -- mercy. Felicia’s foot lifted off her, and sweet, sweat-tainted air poured into her lungs. Natasha didn’t have long to savor her unrestricted breathing, though. Pain exploded in her side as her boss’s toe connected viciously with her body, sending her careening across the floor. “You’re lucky I’m in such a good mood today, you little shit,” she said in her giggly way. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Her very bones screaming in protest, Natasha picked her battered body up and ran for her life.

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