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From: "Pathetic Loser" <usethisloser@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} My Name is Mat - Part 2 - A foot fetish gets out of control. Thank goodness Mat has found the Clinic. These women will surely cure him. (FF/m, feet, humiliation, MC, NC, reluctant, real)
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Date: Sat, 24 Dec 2005 01:10:03 -0500
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I got on the 6 train heading downtown, it was largely empty, Friday
everyone heads out early.  The Clinic was in the financial district,
all the way at the southern tip of Manhattan.  Apparently they had the
entire building, as the address was just a street address, not a suite
or a floor.  As I sat on the subway bench seat, I noticed an Asian
woman across from me.  She was wearing Jimmy Choos, they were dark red,
and the heels were chiseled down to a point.  She was reading Cosmo,
she held it slightly above her lap and licked her finger to turn the
pages.  I became immediately aroused.  Her feet were so tiny and
perfect.  Each toe seemed to laugh at me, the French pedicure matching
her manicure, surely her spa days cost more than I could ever afford.
But God, to be on my knees sucking on her toes, even right in this
subway car, I would give anything.

She looked up from her magazine and caught me staring, practically
drooling, at her feet.  I tried to act like I was merely passing the
time, not really staring at her feet, just spaced out on the train.
But I detected a smile, from the corners of her mouth, just slightly.
She looked back down into her magazine and crossed her legs, letting
the heel on her left foot dangle precariously on her perfect toes.  I
could see her heel, it looked completely unblemished, she must have
weekly foot massages with the shoes she wears.  The bottom of her foot
was clean and inviting, god I wanted to crawl under her and lick every
inch of her sole.  She began to slowly move her leg up and down, the
shoe on her foot dangling and swaying with each movement.

I was breathing hard, her foot was literally trancing me.  I looked up
as she licked another finger and turned the page.  A smile was now
fully evident across her face, almost a haughty sneer, as she continued
to read, not looking up at me once, but knowing the effect she was
having on me.  Each bump of the subway ride and jerk of the car brought
me closer to the edge, just watching her foot, so close but impossibly
out of reach.  The car screeched to a stop, City Hall, and she got up,
not even glancing my way, as she cued to leave the train.  Cosmo under
her right arm, she walked by, and a magazine subscription card fell out
and onto the floor as she exited.  I picked it up and noticed she had
written on it.  I looked up as the door closed. I could see her on the
platform through the glass doors.  She turned around, pointed down to
her feet and then pointed at me.  I glanced quickly down to read the
card:

"Too bad you didn't follow me, Pervert, you would have been under
my feet all weekend!"

The car started moving, I looked up and she was gone, not even a phone
number!  God, who was that woman!  How cruel to tease me like this!  I
can't believe I meet her on the train to a clinic meant to cure me,
Murphy's Law has never been a favorite of mine!  I was completely
distraught.  Stunned was more like it.  But then again, I rethought the
situation.  Maybe, just maybe, this was a good thing.  What if I had
followed her out?  Would I really want to be walked on, physically and
mentally, by her?  Sure it might be fun at first, but, didn't I want
to be rid of this, so I can have a normal life?  Maybe this was the
clean break I needed, a fresh start!

Finally the subway stopped at Fulton St.  I got out and made my way
above ground, the tent in my pants obvious if anyone had looked.  Once
on top, I got my bearings and made my way to the Clinic.  It was a
thin, black glass building.  It had to be 50 stories tall, how in the
world does a simple clinic have the ability to maintain this building?
I walked through the revolving glass doors and over to the reception
desk, she was on the phone.  The desk was oak, set apart with a floor
lamp and desk lamp, both antiques, and resting on a very nice Chinese
rug.  The room was small, with two hallways on either side of the desk,
and a small two person couch against the wall.  I made a move to sit in
the couch, but she motioned me to come over and I sat down in the
leather chair in front of her desk.

"Yes, very good, we will see you this evening then," and she hung
up.

"Well, you must be Mat," It was her, the French accent
unmistakable.  Her hair was pulled up in a bun, on top of her head.  I
got up to shake her hand and quickly drank her in.  She wore pearls
around her throat and they cascaded down her chest, covered by a smart
collared Prada shirt.  The buttons looked as though they were made of
bone, holding back a chest that only God could create, and it was open
to show ample cleavage.  Although it was nice to look at, her short
black skirt was hiding what I really wanted to see.  But from my
vantage point, I could barely make out her boots.  They were not what I
had imagined before, they weren't short calf boots, no they were up
over her knees.  I couldn't tell what they were made of, but I was
caught again.

"Ahhh, yes, you were right, this fetish of yours... it does control
you, hmm?" She smiled at me, obviously aware of my weakness and
playfully rubbing it in a bit.  I apologized, sat down and took of my
jacked to cover my erection.

"No need, Mat, you will be a new man once we are done with you here.
Most of our patients only need one or two office visits and they are
completely cured.  We have a great track record, everything from foot
fetishists like you to pony boys, even more extreme souls, like human
toilets..." she let that sink in, letting me know that they were
authentic and not inexperienced in this sort of rehabilitation.

"But I am bragging, please let me take you to see the doctor for your
consultation,"  she got up and I immediately gasped.  They were
leather boots, tight and shiny, and they had to be 5 inch heels.  She
towered over me, her cleavage easily past my nose.  "Follow me,
Mat," she seductively turned on the points and walked down the
hallway to the elevator, her skirt barely covering her unbelievably
perfect ass.  Oh God, what they hell was I going to say to her in the
elevator?  Jesus, she was so gorgeous, my mouth got dry and I could
feel my heart racing.  I was full of desire but had no way to express
it.  She knew everything, she understood what was going through my
head, and it seemed as though she enjoyed playing on my weakness.  Or
maybe it was just my paranoia, but god, this was driving me crazy.
First the woman on the train, now this model/receptionist?  What's
next, Pamela Anderson on 4 inch pumps pointing to her toes, mouthing
one word - LICK?   What's a fetishist like me supposed to do?  I
walked behind her, images flooding through my brain, literally, washing
me over with desire and aching hunger.  She saw my expression in the
mirrored elevator car and covered her mouth as she turned around,
suppressing a giggle, and pressed the "close door" button.

I noticed there were at least 30 floors, but none of them had numbers,
they all had symbols.  They almost looked like hieroglyphics.  I
noticed she pressed what looked like a Jesus fish symbol.  Oh god,
please, not a religious cult trying to bring me closer to God.  Maybe
this was a bad idea.  I shifted uncomfortably in the elevator.  The
gorgeous receptionist sighed and stretched, her chest pressed outward
as she arched her back, I could hear the buttons straining, when she
suddenly dropped her access card, and it fluttered end over end and
landed on the floor.  At her feet.  Her leather covered feet in heels
that would make any woman cry after an hour of walking in them.  Severe
and strict, her feet were enveloped in the cowhide and commanded my
attention.

She turned slightly to her left to look at me, her hands on her hips,
and raised an eyebrow.

"Well..." she looked at me, not even asking, not even feigning,
just drilling her eyes into mine and expecting it!  She was not just a
receptionist, she was a sadist, she had to be!  Here I was, about to
embark on a journey and leave all these feelings behind, leave who I am
inside this Clinic and become a new, regular person, unshackled by my
fetishes.  And yet, she knew this, but instead of letting me go free,
she was teasing me, giving me little crumbs of her attention to fuel my
raging fetish.  I was nothing but a toy to her, something to turn on
and off, but I couldn't stop myself.  Her cruelty only made me
weaker.

I dropped to my knees and picked up her access card.  I looked up to
her, and she was smiling, her eyes were simply sparkling, looking down
at me from her heavenly high heeled boots with her chest magnificently
poised above me.  I held up my hand and offered her the card, but she
slapped it out of my grasp with a sharp strike, suddenly harsh and
abrasive.

"Oh no, I don't think someone like you is worthy of touching my
hands, pick it up with your mouth and hold it like a Puppy, on your
knees, and whine for me.  Whine like a Puppy does when it wants
attention, and maybe I will reward you,"  I was in shock, and she was
enjoying every bit of it.  I looked down, and the card was in between
both of her feet, laying flat on the floor.  What could I do?  I
lowered my head down between her legs, my ears brushing against her
leather boots on either side of my head as I bit the end of the card in
my mouth.  She closed her legs around my head and spoke down to me.  My
erection was pointing straight out and was likely very visible beneath
my suit.

"Why do you want this to end?  Can't you feel the power coursing
through me?  Your fetish gives me power, and if you want to be a
regular person, that is fine, but wont you miss this?  Can't you feel
your desire washing over you, weakening you.  Wont you miss this
feeling, completely prostrate under your desires as women like me use
them to control you and toy with you... hmm Puppy?  Isn't this what
you really want, living like this, completely at the mercy of strict,
cruel, unrelenting women of power?  Women like me?"

I felt her legs move apart and I brought my head up, looking up at her
with the card in my mouth, as I began to whine profusely.  She looked
down at me, laughing, one hand covering her mouth and the other
pointing at me, at the spectacle I had become in the short 5 minutes of
meeting her.  As I continued to whine, the door to the elevator opened
and a tall woman in a white doctor's outfit stood outside of it,
shaking her head.

"I can see we are going to need to do a lot of work on you, most men
at least make it out of the elevator and into the consultation room
before they succumb to their ill fetishes."  I looked over to see the
doctor, still shaking her head and scribbling on her note pad.  I felt
the card swiped out of my mouth and then fell forward on my face as the
receptionist must have unceremoniously kicked me out of the elevator!

I got up and quickly apologized to the doctor as the elevator door
behind me closed and I felt the shock of reality.  I was completely out
of sorts, unable to know what I was supposed to feel.  Wasn't I here
to cure this side of me, yet it seemed as though the receptionist had
other ideas.

"Please, don't mind her, she likes to toy with men, it's so
natural for her, I am sure you understand.  I am just glad you were not
a toilet slave or I would have needed to keep the cleaning people
around to mop up afterwards!"  She laughed and helped me to my feet.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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