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From: "Pathetic Loser" <usethisloser@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} My Name is Mat - Part 3 - 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 01:10:04 -0500
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"Please, follow me around to my office,"  It was an all white
hallway, with a long fish tank running the length of the walls on each
side, and led to her office door, the only door at the end of the
hallway.  Once inside, it felt more like a den than an office, with a
fireplace on one side, huge paintings on the walls, a nice long leather
couch, and her desk in the corner.  It was richly decorated in brass
and mahogany, with the fish tank from the hallway extended into and
along one side of her office.  I couldn't make out the fish, but the
dark coral and murky water made me slightly unnerved.  I noticed then
that the doctor was not really wearing all white, it was her coat that
was all white, and as she took it off, I had to keep from moaning.  She
was wearing a corset, and it was tightly cinched.  Her chest was
spilling out of the top, and her long flowing skirt underneath revealed
a slit of the sides almost to her hips.  She walked towards me, holding
a glass of red wine which matched the color of her nails.  She stopped
in front of me and held out the glass, noticing my eyes drop to her
feet.  She was barefoot!  No heels, no boots, no smart patented
leathers, no she was completely naked on her feet.  I grasped onto the
glass as she spun around to retrieve her own, and motioned for me to
sit on the couch with her.

"Now, Mat, I know why you are here.  You want to be cured of your
foot fetish.  To do this, I need to assess how deeply you have given
yourself over to this fetish.  I need to determine exactly how strong
it is so that I can take the appropriate measures to cure you, to break
the hold that is has on you."  She was smiling and talking to me and
I did my best to hold her gaze.  But I was weak and I couldn't help
but look down a few times, her feet had no nail polish on them and,
dear god, they looked as though they were glowing... Oh wait, no it was
the light, they were freshly powdered.  Oh I could smell them, only if
she would let me, I would grovel on the floor over to kiss each toe.

"Are you paying attention to me?"  I looked back up and realized my
fetish had, again, gotten the better of me.  "Well I guess it's
safe to say that you really are controlled by this.  I want you to
know, I am not wearing any shoes to constantly remind you of what
controls you.  Yes, it's crude and deliberate, but usually I need to
up the tempo to get through the nervousness most men exhibit during the
consultation.  You seem ready to go, maybe I should have worn my white
Mary Jane's and kept on my doctor's outfit...  Well in any case,
this is all part of the procedure, but I need you to pay attention to
me, this is important, I need to know more about you, ok?  Or else this
will all be for naught, so please, pay attention to me," she smiled,
reassuringly.  I felt weak and nodded, yes I would do my best to pay
attention to her, but the smell of her powdered peds was overpowering.


"Now, let me ask you these questions.  I need you to answer as
honestly as you can, and if you need clarification regarding my
questions, just stop me and ask, ok?  We begin."  She held the
notebook close to her chest, one hand wrapped around it, the other
checking off my answers.

"How old were you when you first had a sexual fantasy concerning
women's feet?"

"13", I responded.  She didn't even look up, she just wrote in
the number and continued.

"Do you feel as though, over time, this desire has gotten weaker,
stronger, or stayed the same."

"Stronger, definitely."

"Do you think that women have power over you because of this, or do
you feel as though it is the desire, the fetish, that has the power
over you?

"Oh, I don't know, maybe both?"

"How often do you think about women's feet per day?"

"All the time, probably 50 times a day, every woman I meet I think
about what it would be like to be under her feet."

She stopped and put the pad down on her lap.  She looked at me,
concerned, "Is it really this much?  Really all the time?"  I
nodded, "OK, well then, lets just skip to the 'yes' or 'no'
questions, I think I am getting a clearer picture of you and what you
might need."

Her feet were pointed straight out, rubbing against each other.  I was
imagining myself lying under them, my cock in between her feet, being
rubbed up and down, the powder feeling cool and soft, bringing me close
to an orgasm while she ignored me and talked on the phone with her
girlfriends.

"Mat please, just answer yes or no, or even nod your head, anything.
Now let's start again... Does the idea of licking the bottom of my
feet arouse you?"

"Yes," I mumbled, trying not to look at her feet, but knowing each
group of toes would fit easily into my mouth.  I could suck on them for
hours.

"When you first met the receptionist, did you fantasize about sucking
on the heel of her boot?"

"Yes" I thought that maybe I was falling into a trance, the
questions continued and I kept answering yes over and over.  The scent
of her feet, the look in her eyes, the way her chest pushed against her
corset, I was losing the battle of control again.  I was becoming
transfixed upon her and just stared at her feet and began to nod.

She noticed this and didn't miss a beat, instead of asking for yes or
no she would just look up and record a yes or no from my nodding head,
and they were all 'yes.'

"Would you lick the heel of a woman you just saw walk through mud
until it was completely clean?"

"Do you fantasize about bitchy, cruel women walking all over you?"

"Would you suck the grime between the toes of a sweet college girl
who had just finished soccer practice?"

"Do you wish you could quit your job and live out your fantasy to
serve women's feet, even if it meant leaving everything you know in
your life behind?

Her feet were magnificent, with each question she asked me she changed
their position and deliberately enticed me, goading me on.  I was in
heaven, I no longer could answer her, I just wanted to fall to the
ground and worship her toes.  I was buzzing inside and felt more than
drunk.

I saw her pull out her cell phone and walkie-talkie someone, smiling to
me as she spoke.

"Yes, I am afraid you need to bring in the chair, he is having
trouble paying attention and I need to be absolutely sure about his
condition before we go on."

I didn't even look up, I couldn't take my eyes away from her feet.
They were dancing, I swear, and the questions just kept coming, and I
couldn't even understand what she was saying.

The doors behind me opened and the gorgeous modelceptionist walked in
wheeling what looked like a wheelchair on steroids.  She brought it
over next to me and the doctor stood up on one side of me with the
French devil on the other.

"One, two THREE" and they lifted me off of the couch I was in, and
settled me down in the steel apparatus.  It was electronic and chrome,
brass and shiny.  A few clicks and whirrs, and before I realized it, my
ankles, calves, knees, thighs, wrists, forearms, biceps and shoulders
all were held in place by chrome clasps and fixtures.  I wasn't
really trying to move, but now I couldn't if I wanted to.  The French
woman stood behind me and began to place things against my head and
neck.  Soon, even my head was immobilized, all I could do is stare
straight ahead.  She walked around to the front of where I was facing
and stood by the doctor.  They both had their arms crossed at chest
height and looked hard at me.

"I think that should do it, but would you mind staying here until I
am sure I won't need you?" asked the doctor.

"Sure, that is not a problem, I think it will be quite fun to peer
inside his twisted little mind anyway," and she laughed, drawing a
look of scorn and concern from the doctor.

"Ok Mat, where were we, oh that's right, we are about half of the
way through your yes and no questions..." and she started again.
Between the two women now eyeing me and with the good doctor prodding
my brain, I was wilting even quicker under the pressure of my
overwhelming fetish.  I felt helpless!  The French woman pointed at me
and said something, I was concentrating on her boots and really
didn't think she even spoke in English, maybe it was French, maybe I
was just still in my pre-orgasmic "high", I don't know.  But just
then both women laughed, the doctor laughing so hard she dropped her
pad and the papers went spilling all over the floor.  I looked down and
saw what they were laughing at.  Apparently, even though every part of
me was bound to the chair, my erection had sprung and was proudly
saluting these two gorgeous vixens from inside my pants.

"I want to set it free-" the French woman began but was cut off.

"Please, I need to keep him concentrating on these questions, we can
not interfere with the process."

"But we are interfering, look at him, he is a drooling mess, all he
is doing is gawking at our feet and dreaming of lying under them.  He
is hopeless.  We need to do something to take his mind off of our feet
or he will never make it through your evaluation!"  the receptionist
spoke, and the doctor liked what she had said.

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