Story: Landlady Takes Over.

A new story from Mana Ray that he's sharing with the readers of this blog. Please follow his Patreon page if you like his stuff.

Landlady Takes Over

by Mana Ray

(F/f, humiliation, foot fetish)

Natalie opened the door for her new landlady. This wouldn't have been so bad, except for the fact that Natalie used to own this house. Now, she had lost all the equity she had built, and the place was sold from beneath her feet. And who was the buyer? Someone Natalie loathed: Charlotte Lamberton.

"Good morning, Nat!"

Charlotte was dressed in her usual sundress and strappy sandals, practically smirking at Natalie as she strolled into the home that was now hers. She had on a pearl necklace, and carried a large Starbucks frappucino. She kicked off her sandals and waltzed into Natalie's living room, placing her bare feet on the coffee table atop one of Natalie's literary zines.

"I brought over the new lease for you to sign. Oh, and I need the deposit – does three thousand work for you?"

Natalie seethed inwardly as the bitch smiled at her. It took all the restraint in her body to nod in agreement. Charlotte wasn't satisfied.

"What sort of host are you?" the blonde woman joked, "aren't you going to offer me something? Food, a drink, a foot massage?"

She wiggled her toes a little, and Natalie watched as some dirt fell from the woman's soles onto one of her favorite publications.

"Would you like anything, Charlotte?" Natalie asked through gritted teeth.

"I prefer Miss Lamberton. But no, thank you, I don't want to put you out. I know you need to save money. Come on, let's get this over with!"

Natalie balled her fists and approached the plutocrat that had bought up her home. The bitch could carry a grudge, that was for sure.

A few years back, Natalie had been drinking wine and saw a post on Charlotte's Instagram. Basically, the woman was showing off all her designer clothes while insulting people who couldn't afford such luxuries. Natalie found this particularly offensive, and she posted a cutting remark that made local news. Charlotte was spiteful enough to keep tabs on Natalie for years, waiting for her chance to get revenge.

Eventually, Charlotte learned that Natalie was struggling to pay her mortgage. When Natalie's house went up for auction, Charlotte bought it with cash on the very same day. Now she was Natalie's landlord, but it was worse than that of course.

Natalie blanched as she read the rental agreement.

"The rent is eighteen hundred a month??" Natalie asked. It was practically the same as the mortgage she was paying beforehand!

"Yes, Natalie," Charlotte answered, savoring the girl's outrage, "That's the fair market price for the area; take a look around if you don't believe me."

"But that was a mortgage for an entire house! This is just to rent single room!"

"Well yeah, that's how it is structured," Charlotte said, "I mean, I like this place! It's cozy. I want to stay here too sometimes, to watch over my investment."

Natalie blinked, and felt her cheeks going red. Charlotte watched with amusement; she had been waiting until the last moment to spring this little surprise on Natalie. What better revenge than to make Natalie live under her thumb? To have the girl rent a place she used to own, and admire all of Charlotte's nice things up close and personal while obeying her stupid rules?

"But what about these rules?" Natalie asked, glancing at the ridiculous number of blank spaces she expected to sign her initials.

"I can't have guests over after 6PM or before 10AM? Quiet hours? I have to maintain ALL common areas?"

Charlotte felt a thrill as Natalie rattled off all the humiliating points of the contract. That would show the little leftist bitch to question power. She pictured the brunette girl sitting quietly in her tiny little room, cursing her own stupidity for crossing a superior woman. No time for yoga classes or organic food now!

"Listen Natalie," Charlotte began, "those are the rules. You can take it or leave it, but if you leave it you have to be out of here by next week. There are several people interested in renting your room."

Natalie grimaced as she read the other points: this 'rental agreement' was downright exploitative. If she signed the lease, she knew that Charlotte would have countless ways to boss her around. But what was her alternative? She didn't have any family nearby, and she didn't have enough money to find another place. Also with her recent foreclosure, no landlords would rent to her.

"Char-- I mean, Miss Lamberton," Natalie started, annoyed at having to address the woman so formally.

"Can we at least take out the part that says I have to maintain the garden?"

"No, sorry," Charlotte said with mock sympathy, "I have a very specific way I like things, and if you are my tenant I expect you to maintain things to my liking."

Natalie didn't have a lot of options. She initialled the document countless times – certainly more times than was necessary. She knew that Charlotte had designed it in such a way to humiliate Natalie by making her sign away so many of her rights one by one. All the while, Charlotte sipped her cold drink and admired her pedicure.

"Do you have the deposit and first month's rent?"

"Yes, Miss Lamberton," Natalie murmured.

Defeated, she walked into her room and pulled out the $4800 that represented the last of her life's savings. She went back to her hated rival and handed her the cash, watching her dazzling smile as she counted all the bills. A single piece of Charlotte's jewelry cost more than all that cash, and she was wearing quite a collection.

"Awesome! Listen Natalie, I know this is hard for you," Charlotte said, "but I think this can really work out for both of us. Maybe by being around me, you can learn how rich people think. And I can have you around in case I need help. Oh, speaking of, could you fetch my sandals please?"

Charlotte was grinning sweetly, but Natalie knew the underlying threat. If she misbehaved, the woman could quite easily have her out onto the street by upping her rent due to the month-to-month nature of the agreement. Natalie nodded, and went to fetch the woman's well-worn leather sandals. Seeing them up close, she noticed that there were deep indentations where Natalie's toes rested along with other signs of wear.

"My back kind of hurts today. Could you please help me with my shoes?"

Natalie glared at Charlotte, but the woman knew she had her beat. Without a word, Natalie knelt before her new landlady and helped guide her feet into her sandals. Charlotte said, 'thank you,' but that didn't lighten the mood. Natalie badly wanted to wash her hands after touching that woman's feet. She hated feet.

"Okay, so just get all your stuff out of the master bedroom, and I'll be back tomorrow to move my stuff in! See you then."

Charlotte left the house, and Natalie went to the sofa and sat with her head in her hands. There was a copy of the rental agreement on the coffee table, for her records. She couldn't bring herself to read it again, so she  just went into her old bedroom and began the long process of moving out.

**

Things got worse for poor Natalie, and they got worse rather quickly.

Charlotte moved all her stuff into the new home, with Natalie's help of course, and immediately started bossing the girl around.

"Oh, Natalie. I kind of have this thing about feet," Charlotte said when she noticed that Natalie was barefoot, as she usually was in the comfort of her own home.

For a moment, Natalie got her hopes up: maybe Charlotte wouldn't want her to touch her feet after all!

"Like, I don't like seeing anyone else's bare feet. It sets me off," Charlotte said.

"So whenever you're at home, you need to wear socks or something. Here, I got you these."

Charlotte reached into glossy paper bag and pulled out an offensively pink pair of ballet slippers. Natalie just looked at her.

"Well, come on!" Charlotte said, handing the shoes over to Natalie.

With a sigh, Natalie slipped them on her bare feet, noticing that they were just slightly too tight. Her toes felt a little scrunched together, and the length of the shoes was just barely too short – her feet were noticably constricted. As soon as one shoe touched the floor, there was an audible tapping noise that rang out. Were there taps on these shoes?

"Yeah, I hate it when people sneak up on me. Like, if I'm going to share this house with you, I need to know where you are. So just keep those on whenever you're at home," Charlotte demanded, not bothering to hear Natalie's answer.

The brunette girl frowned as she looked down at her feet, now encased in the soft pink canvas of her ballet slippers. She loved going barefoot – it gave her a sense of freedom and power. Now she had on girlish little slippers that clicked with each step. And after a few moments, the tightness became even more obnoxious – maybe it had something to do with the pointed toe?

The wealthy woman had hired movers to transport all her heavier stuff, and she did nothing to help them except order them where to place each item. It pained Natalie to see her former room full of another person's stuff – even worse that it was that bitch Charlotte Lamberton's things. She had entire boxes of designer shoes and handbags, the exact sort of luxuries that Natalie found pointless and wasteful.

"Natalie would you help unload my boxes please?" Charlotte asked, sipping sweet tea while watching some right-wing news program Natalie despised.

"Um, I can't," Natalie said, already afraid of offending this woman. "I have work in half an hour."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes for a moment, but quickly regained her composure.

"Where do you work?" she asked as though she didn't already know the answer.

"Uh, at Gelman's, it's a law firm downtown."

"I know Gelman's," Charlotte spat out, "that left-wing nut who keeps getting in the way of business.

How much does he even pay you? Not much if you can't even keep your house, must be."

Natalie winced.

"It's about $20/hour," she answered.

"That's it??" Charlotte asked. Natalie nodded, wanting to punch the woman for her arrogance.

"You could make way better money as a personal stretcher. I'll see what I can do, my friend's business is hiring."

Natalie politely demurred.

She had seen ads online looking for 'personal stretchers,' usually with subtle implications that they wanted young, pretty girls to apply. It seemed to be a new fad among the rich: they would go into a  comfy yoga studio looking space then lie down on cushioned beds as physical therapists helped them through a program of assisted stretching. It was a good idea, in theory: Natalie could definitely see the therapeutic benefit. But the price tag ensured that only the wealthiest people could afford it, and generally they wanted more novelty and relaxation than physical therapy.

Natalie supposed there was nothing wrong with it, she just didn't like the idea of touching rich women all over as they lied back and relaxed. There was something so servile about it – it flew in the face of all her political beliefs. Natalie was a staunch critic of income inequality. She found it abhorrent that women like Charlotte and her clique had more money than they could ever spend, while Natalie and others went without. For Natalie it was offensive to work at Stretch Lab, using her body and mind to make rich women a little more comfortable. It was offensive.

"Well, something to think about," Charlotte said.

"Oh, and tell Mr. Gelson I said hello!" she added in a cryptic tone, probably getting the man's name wrong on purpose.

Natalie felt very uneasy as she walked out the door, but on her drive to work all she could think about was how much of her income would go to Charlotte now. As much as it upset her, she couldn't help but think about how unfair and stupid it all was.

According to her calculations, she made about $2400 a month after taxes. Her rent was $1800. This meant that three fourths of her income went directly into Charlotte's purse, and the only thing Natalie had to show for it was a tiny room to sleep in within a house that once belonged to her.

The slender brunette gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles went white as her mind offered up even more annoying figures. She would have to work 110 hours every month to pay her rent – money that Charlotte didn't even do anything to earn! Most of her time spent at work would be to benefit the wealthy blonde bitch who had taken her house, and now lorded it over her with all kinds of strings attached. She couldn't believe Charlotte could be so mean, and she vowed to find some way out of this situation.

**

As soon as Mr. Gelman found out about Natalie's situation, he calmly explained that he could no longer employ her. Natalie sat there quietly as the middle-aged man summarized the vague threats that Charlotte's lawyers had sent his way. They even found a way of implying that if Gelman got rid of some staff (by which meant Natalie), it would set everyone else up for a better career trajectory.

"I'm sorry, Natalie," Mr. Gelman said, in the tone of someone who has gotten very used to losing in his lifetime.

"She is too powerful. She could crush us with frivolous legal fees, and drive us out of business. Then we wouldn't be able to help anyone. I know this is unfair, and bullshit. I wish there was more I could do."

Natalie stared at the man. He still had a full head of hair, but some of it was greying. His suit was tailored and fit well. She used to hold him in such high esteem – thinking that he was a crusader for the downtrodden and an advocate for the working class. Some crusader! As soon as Charlotte Lamberton threatened him, he offered Natalie up like a sacrifice.

Despite her anger, though, Natalie knew Mr. Gelman didn't really have a choice here. That's what made it so frustrating. Natalie was scowling as she packed up her desk and left Gelman's law firm, drawing sympathetic glances from her former co-workers. None of them bothered saying goodbye, and few even dared to make eye contact.

She dreaded going home and announcing that she had lost her job – she kept envisioning the smirk on Charlotte's face as she relished her new power over her.

Her rent was due in three weeks, and she barely had a dollar to her name.

**

She did everything she could to avoid working at 'Stretch Lab' but nothing worked. All of Natalie's friends were too concerned about their own jobs: employers were laying people off, not hiring. After a week of hitting the pavement and sending out her resume, Natalie finally approached Charlotte about the job.

This was especially annoying because Charlotte had been ordering Natalie around all week whenever she was home. It felt like every day, Natalie was on her knees scrubbing the woman's toilet because of Charlotte's 'OCD.' The woman would regularly leave food out, with the clear expectation that it was Natalie's job to clean up after her. The girl felt like a servant in her own home, and Charlotte rarely offered a kind word. A few times, Charlotte had lost her temper and Natalie was afraid she would get violent!

Charlotte was watching some news/entertainment program when Natalie asked if she could talk.

"Um, Miss Lamberton, is your friend's job still hiring?"

Charlotte's smile widened. She felt the usual thrill she got whenever the brunette girl submitted to one of her ploys. She was going to love seeing Natalie in the stretcher's outfit – maybe she would give her some practice at home!

"Yeah, of course!" Charlotte answered, "but the only problem is, you're unemployed right now. So, he's going to want to lowball your pay. I know it sucks – you really should have taken the offer last week."

Natalie balked.

"Couldn't you just tell him I'm working?" she pleaded.

Charlotte loved how immature and helpless the girl looked, her bushy eyebrows contorted into the portrait of pathetic supplication.

"Sorry," Charlotte said, "I don't want to lie to my friend like that. I'll call him though, and see what I can do. In the mean time, I have a load of laundry that needs to be done. Could you help me out too?"

Natalie sighed, and agreed. Now she was doing Charlotte's laundry too? Where would all of this end?

The laundry took quite some time. All of Charlotte's clothes were designer brands, and had to be handled in a very labor-intensive way. Natalie was tired at the end of it, lying on her bed trying to relax. Charlotte opened her door without bothering to knock, and came into her room.

"Good news! I got you a working interview tomorrow. The pay isn't the best – only $11.15 starting, but if you get enough five-star reviews they will bump you up to $13. And the clients tip, too."

Natalie set down her book and tried to think of a polite way of expressing how angry she was. $11.15 was about $9 after taxes. Didn't Charlotte say that she would make more than $20 an hour working as a stretcher?!

"Charlott – I mean, Miss Lamberton. My rent is like $1800! How will I earn that much? I would need to work like 50 hours a week."

"Yeah, I thought of that," Charlotte answered, and Natalie got a sinking feeling.

"I'm willing to let you pay some of your rent in sweat equity. So instead of giving me cash, you would spend a few hours a week working around the apartment, and I would deduct it from your total balance. Does that sound fair?"

Natalie went pale. She was horrified at the prospect of being made to work in her own (rented, she reminded herself) house. And worse, for Charlotte Lamberton! But considering the alternative, she had no choice to accept.

"I guess," she murmured

"Great! You can start right now. Give me a foot massage for an hour and I will knock $15 off your rent," Charlotte chirped.

To Natalie's amazement, the woman actually came into Natalie's bedroom and lied on her bed, stretching out her long legs and making herself comfortable. Charlotte was seriously going to have Natalie massage her feet on her own bed?

Natalie felt a pit in her stomach as she looked at the woman's bare feet. They were meaty, with defined arches and shapely nail beds – not bad visually but Natalie was revolted at the thought of touching feet. It made her skin crawl.

"Miss Lamberton, is there any way I could do something else?"

"Nat, come on. I'm trying to help you here. It's just feet, and they're clean! Look," Charlotte said, lifting her sole up in the air for Natalie to inspect.

With a long sigh, Natalie moved down to the bottom edge of her own bed and took Charlotte's feet into her lap. She cringed once as the woman rested her heels against her thighs, and again as she put her hands against the soft flesh of Charlotte's soles. She had never given a foot massage before, and just started applying firm pressure with her thumbs. Charlotte beamed a lovely smile, and played on her smartphone.

"This is perfect – I love having a foot massage while I text people. It makes me feel like a princess."

Although Charlotte's feet looked clean, Natalie noticed a faint aroma coming from them – sour and acrid. They were cold to the touch, but quickly started warming up as Natalie ran her hands all across them. She felt disgusted with herself. Here she was, giving a foot massage to the woman who she had considered her enemy. Sitting on a twin size bed in a rented room, in a house that belonged to Charlotte Lamberton.

"A little more pressure, Nat," Charlotte said. "And actually look at my feet! It helps to create a mind-body connection."

Natalie lowered her vision, staring at Charlotte's pale feet. She had a fresh red pedicure, and the subtlest of tan lines. This continued for about an hour, and Natalie never quite got used to the sensation of touching another woman's feet. Each stroke was a fresh violation – a new low at the feet of her former rival. She desperately wanted to go wash her hands, and it felt like they were contaminated with Charlotte's mank feet grime. Couldn't the woman at least have the consideration to wash her feet before making Natalie rub them?

"Thank you for that, Natalie," Charlotte crooned, stretching her toes lazily as she rested them in the girl's lap. Thankfully, she withdrew them got up to go relax in the living room.

Natalie hurried away to the bathroom and scoured her hands with soap and hot water, but couldn't get the thought of Charlotte's feet out of her mind. Was this seriously what Charlotte expected her to do to earn her keep?? Even this one foot rub was disturbing in the extreme to Natalie – she couldn't stomach the thought of rubbing Charlotte Lamberton's feet as a normal part of her schedule.

And yet, that seemed to be exactly what the woman desired.

***

Natalie's new boss already seemed like he had it out for her. It probably had something to do with her reaction when she saw her work uniform.

Natalie's 'strecher' uniform consisted of a vanishingly small pair of short shorts – they barely covered her toned butt. Her top was a tight neon yellow tank top that ended well above her midriff, and a black athletic bra beneath it. The outfit really seemed to call attention to her body, and gave her the appearance of a bubbly sporty girl. Her hair was in a sensible ponytail, with a neon yellow scrunchie holding it up.

She followed her new boss, a young man with swelling muscles and an obnoxious attitude.

"So we all have specialties here: some stretchers focus on the upper body, some on the lower body, some on the back."

Natalie nodded, looking around to see pretty young women helping clients perform lovely stretches all across the gym's floor. Its decor was somewhere between an athletic studio and a massage parlor. The floor consisted of soft rubber, and there was soothing music coming over the loudspeakers.

"Your specialty is..." the guy began, looking down at his phone, "legs and feet."

Natalie surpressed a moan.

"The feet are an interesting specialty," the guy added, oblivious to Natalie's discontent.

"I think you are our first person to focus on them. But it makes sense: there are a lot of bones and connective tissue there. We've actually had many of women coming in here asking for foot reflexology sessions after wearing high heels. Do you think you could learn to do that?"

Natalie couldn't muster a response, but the guy obviously wanted to hear a, 'yes, sir.'

"Yeah," she said, weakly.

He seemed unimpressed.

"Well, please try to show some more enthusiasm when you're dealing with the customers. A big part of what we do is creating a positive experience – that's why people come here instead of somewhere else."

The guy pointed to a smiling girl in her early 20s, gently rotating an older man's right arm in small circles. She had a polite grin on her face, as though she was happy to be serving a guy old enough to be her father. Or maybe she was?

"Okay, I will!" Natalie answered, smiling as best she could. The guy seemd satisfied, and they continued their tour of the studio.

The older guy was suspiciously brazen with the way he touched the girl's bare legs, although she didn't object out loud she was clearly blushing.

"Great! Your first client is here, she's waiting up front."

Natalie followed the guy's gesture to see a young woman in the reception area – Natalie's first thought was that she seemed to be a trophy wife. She had luscious blonde hair, but dark eyebrows and she barely looked old enough to be done with college. Something about her high cheekbones and her fierce eyebrows made her look mean, but she smiled at Natalie.

"Hey! Are you my stretcher? I really need it," the woman said, shaking Natalie's hand with a surprisingly strong grip.

"I'm going to this new moms class and they told me this helps with the stress."

She introduced herself as Gabrielle, and the three of them went to one of the padded tables. Gabrielle had on yoga pants and a pink vest, and Natalie was impressed that she retained such a tight figure, for being a new mom.

Most of the goodwill Natalie had for Gabrielle evaporated over the stretching session, but that wasn't the blonde woman's fault.

It was the stretching routine! Natalie couldn't believe she was so unlucky to have pulled this specific job. For at least 15 minutes, Natalie had to kneel on the bed and help Gabrielle extend her upturned leg down towards her torso. Except, Natalie's own position made it so that her face was just an inch away from the woman's bare feet. Gabrielle giggled, and Natalie's boss told her that she wasn't supposed to breathe through her mouth during this stretch, to avoid tickling the client's feet.

Beside herself with indignation, Natalie had no choice but to breathe through her nose for the entire time she held this stretch, inhaling the aroma of Gabrielle's feet. The woman had clearly skipped her shower, and Natalie noticed an earthy aroma she couldn't seem to ignore. The blonde woman was smiling wide, and although she was vocal with her enjoyment of the service, she seemed totally oblivious to Natalie's discomfort.

This pattern continued: apparently Natalie's boss expected her face to remain within a few inches of Gabrielle's feet for many of the stretches. She assumed this position as she rotated the woman's ankles, pulled on her slender toes, and used targeted reflexology against her high arches. By the end of the session, Natalie felt shaken from smelling this woman's feet for so long. Sure, she was gorgeous, and hygienic, but Natalie abhorred anything to do with feet.

Now this was her job.

Gabrielle looked radiant as she thanked them at the end of the session – it looked like she had re-captured that motherly glow that women adore so much. She tipped Natalie $20, which was a pleasant surprise. The fact that a rich woman could be so polite kind of confused Natalie's resentment, but she figured that Natalie was probably an everyday person who came into wealth by marrying some rich asshole.

Their next client was a raven-haired woman somewhere in her 40s, dressed as though she were a business executive. She had on a black jacket, black skirt, a pink blouse and black nylons. Her stillettoes were obviously a designer brand, and she had no wedding ring on. Although she had pretty facial features, she seemed to be frowning all the time and it added an intimidating gravity to her person.

"Hello Ivan," the woman said to Natalie's boss. She had a no-nonsense tone of voice; like she could order a thousand people to lose their jobs and think nothing of it.

"I know Alondra quit, but I really need a Cleopatra massage. I have closing arguments today and it always helps me think. Do you have someone who could help?"

Ivan nodded. By how polite he was being to the woman, Natalie sensed that she was an important client. He told her to take her usual private room, then pulled Natalie aside to give her a quick lecture in whispered tones.

"Miss Medic is one of our most regular clients. She spends a lot of money here and we really want to keep her business. Please, please just keep a good attitude during this session. She's really demanding, but just do what she says. And don't mind the way her feet smell – she HATES it when anyone calls her out on it."

Natalie wanted to quit right there, but she felt Ivan's strong arm guiding her to the private room. It felt like she was walking to the gallows as they went into the hallway that contained all the private rooms. Ivan knocked gently on the door, and Miss Medic invited them in.

Natalie was shocked to see that the woman had stripped down to her bra and panties, but had left her thigh-high stayup stockings on. Her body was pale and soft, like she didn't place any importance on exercise. She was lying on her back expectantly.

The room itself was cozy, maybe eighty square feet and dimly lit. It had a sink and a place where Miss Medic had folded all her clothes. Even upon entering, Natalie noticed the telltale aroma of feet – it made her blood curdle.

It got worse as she got ready to do a service. There was a sharp aroma, mixed with leather that she found impossible to ignore. Even if Natalie didn't loathe feet, this would have been objectionable. Given her aversion, though, it became a horrific ordeal. Ivan was there too, giving her the occasional look to make sure she wasn't breathing through her mouth. She winced as she touched the woman's nyloned feet, as a tidal wave of embarrassment and distaste washed over her entire body. It felt like she was putting her hands in some noxious poison that seeped all the way down to her bones.

"Just do my feet," Miss Medic ordered when Natalie tried to move up towards the woman's ankles and calves.

From Miss Medic's perspective, this was heaven. She had a handsome, buff guy massaging her shoulders and her arms while a pretty brunette girl massaged her feet. Soft music played, and she had nothing to do but focus on receiving pleasure.

Natalie, on the other hand, was in hell. The more she massaged Miss Medic's feet, the more their offensive aroma seemed to permeate the room and seep into her hands. Natalie knew she was probably just imagining this, but the thought wouldn't leave her mind. And even worse, Natalie wasn't even trained in how to give foot massages! Wasn't there some kind of law that you needed a license to do this?

She felt like she was just groping the woman's soles with her thumbs, arbitrarily deciding where to stroke. It was an hour long appointment too, and it really strained Natalie's imagination to think of so many different ways to rub a woman's foot. The constant hunched position she had to take caused her lower back and shoulder to ache, and even her wrists were hurting.

"My feet are not too offensive are they?" Miss Medic asked at one point. Ivan gave Natalie a pointed look.

"Not at all! They're fine by me," Natalie lied.

"Wow, you're a brave girl! I can smell them from here, and I don't envy you. But if you don't mind them, great! You can be my new regular foot girl – I'm in here all the time."

Natalie forced a smile through all her despair. She didn't want to touch this woman's feet for another minute, let alone for several more sessions!

"Sometimes I think Alondra quit because she had an issue with me. Do you think that's why, Ivan?"

Miss Medic asked.

"No, definitely not," Ivan said, "I think she had to move. She enjoyed seeing you."

Natalie saw the harsh woman smile a little – she clearly liked it when people flattered her ego. Being this close to Miss Medic's feet, Natalie could definitely understand why a girl would quit instead of being subjected to them on a regular basis. But for her, quitting wasn't an option.

About halfway through the massage, Miss Medic's happy sighs became a little disconcerting. At first, it seemed like the woman was just relaxed, but soon her moans became more suggestive. Ivan looked like he was totally comfortable with this... foreplay, and spent a little too long massaging her boobs. Natalie saw the lust in his eyes, and wondered what he would do if she weren't here.

Or was she part of this little scene? Miss Medic and Ivan seemed careful to maintain deniability – this all could still be a misunderstanding on Natalie's part so she just kept quiet.

"Ah! That was sooo good," Miss Medic said at the end of the session.

Ivan had helped her sit up, and she was lazily flexing her feet and giving Natalie an inscrutable expression. Natalie kept a polite smile on her face, which seemed to please the older woman even more. Miss Medic's gaze became more like a leer, which made Natalie blush and head for the door. Ivan followed suit, and they walked towards the break room together.

"That was awesome!" Ivan said, clapping her on the shoulder.

"She's really hard to please, but she seemed happy with your service."

Natalie nodded, wishing for any opportunity to wash her hands. She could feel bits of foot grime on them, and the smell of Miss Medic's feet was still sharp in her mind. Just as she was about to use the sink, there was a knock on the door.

It was Miss Medic.

"Ivan, that was the best. I will be back here tomorrow for more of the same. And I want this girl to do my feet again," she said, pointing at Natalie.

"OH! Before I forget, here, come sample this essential oil I picked up."

Miss Medic beckoned Natalie over, and ordered the girl to hold out her hands with her palms upturned. Then the older woman droppd a few droplets of rose oil onto her hands, which had a sutble earthy aroma. She ordered Natalie to rub her hands together vigorously, coating their entirety with the colorless oil.

"Now lift your hands to your face and inhale deeply five times through your noise," Miss Medic told Natalie.

The brunette girl tried not to groan as she lifted her hands to her pretty face to inhale the aroma. The oil didn't even cover the smell of Miss Medic's feet: far from it! In fact, it seemed to compliment their sharp odor with more dull scent, and cause it to penetrate her senses more deeply. With her eyes closed, she inhaled five times. It felt like she could taste the woman's feet on her tongue, which made her queasy.

"I know this job is hard on your hands," the mature woman explained, "so I'll bring this oil for you tomorrow too. Ciao!"

With that, Miss Medic was gone, and Ivan brought Natalie to their next client before she could clean her hands. Natalie's job continued this way, touching womens' legs and feet in highly intimate ways, helping them stretch and ease the stress of life. It was a demanding job, requiring Natalie to take all sorts of awkward positions and hold them for uncomfortable amounts of time.

At the end of the day, Ivan had some feedback for her.

"You did alright,' he said, counting out her tip money. "The only thing you need to work on is smiling more. Our clients want to see happy employees."

Natalie just nodded politely.  She had been smiling all day and that wasn't enough? Was she supposed to be ludicrously happy to have her feet inches away from womens' toes all day??

"Oh, and please put more care into your appearance," Ivan added.

"In fact, go next door before your shift tomorrow and have them do your hair and makeup. We have an agreement with the girls there – they'll give you a discount."

A while back, it would have been totally illegal for an employer to dictate how his employees looked. But, as Natalie looked around at the other girl 'stretchers' she noticed that each one of them had full makeup on, and elaborate hairstyles. Employment laws had been so weakened that these girls probably had to jump through whatever hoops their bosses wanted in order to keep their jobs.

It was one of the things Natalie had protested and lobbied against.

"Yes, sir," Natalie said, feeling fatigued and defeated.

She rode the bus home, in an effort to save gas. When she arrived, Charlotte's Mercedes was parked in the driveway, and she slipped in hoping the woman wouldn't notice. But as soon as she put on those ridiculous pink slippers, her footsteps announced her arrival.

"Nat! Come to the living room," Charlotte called out.

Natalie shrugged her shoulders and marched to the living room, where Charlotte was sitting with a young brunette. She was a slender woman, with long arms and legs. Natalie winced as she saw that the brunette was barefoot – didn't Charlotte have some kind of foot phobia?

"Nat, this is Karolina," Charlotte said, motioning to the coltish woman. She was wearing yoga pants and a black athletic sweater.

"Namaste!" the woman said, offering a little bow.

"Karolina, this is Natalie. She used to troll people online, now she's my live-in foot rubber and maid."

Natalie flashed Charlotte a glare.

"Just kidding!" Charlotte said, "but seriously, do you think you could give me a foot massage right now? My feet feel lonely,"

Natalie despised Charlotte's cutesy way of asking for things. Also, having to massage the woman's feet in front of company was even worse! Even if Karolina seemed a little air-headed, it was still humiliating to do something so degrading in front of a stranger.

"Yes, Miss Lamberton," Natalie answered, approaching to rub the woman's feet yet again.

Natalie had to sit on the hard coffee table facing Charlotte, so she could massage the woman's feet without her needing to turn away from her friend. She frowned as she started little effleurage motions on the woman's soles, which had flecks of dirt on them as usual. It felt like Karolina was watching her, although the women neglected to include her in their conversation. They were talking about metaphysical stuff that didn't really interest her anyway: horoscopes and things like that.

As she had been trained, Natalie didn't look up from her task. Here she was acting like a stupid servant, bowing her head, with Charlotte's feet taking up the entirety of her attention. It irked her that Karolina was obviously new-agey but she didn't find it strange that Charlotte had another woman doing something so demeaning.

After a while, the conversation turned to Natalie.

"I notice that Natalie doesn't have a very good attitude towards her work," Charlotte said, pointing to the girl using her foot.

"Is there anything you can recommend to give her a better spirit about stuff?"

"Oh, of course!" Karolina answered, her eyes lighting up. "I went to see Doctor Sahi for when I was feeling low-libido, and she's a miracle worker. I can get her a session if you'd like – although she is pretty expensive."

"Hmm."

Charlotte gave Natalie a critical look, and Natalie was just angry that the women were talking about her as though she weren't there. But what could she say? Meanwhile, Charlotte was thrilled to see this level of compliance from the once-proud girl – like she had already accepted that she was some kind of foot masseur!

"I suppose it would be good. Maybe it's like an investment – I can use it as a tax writeoff!"

At this, both women laughed and Natalie slumped her shoulders.

"Oh, I don't mean to be a bad hostess. Would you like a foot rub, Karolina? Natalie would be happy to help."

"Oh, I don't know – I just got done with hot yoga," Karolina demurred.

"Nonsense! Natalie is happy to help. It helps reduce her rent, too, so it's a win-win."

Karolina didn't take much more convincing, and soon Natalie had the woman's size 11 feet in her lap. She had very high arches and long, slender toes. Her feet widened from the heel out towards the ball, and they were firm and muscular to the touch. Unfortunately, they had a faint aroma of birkenstocks and perspiration, along with some kind of witch hazel  that Natalie guessed the yoga studio used as a spray.

The women continued to ignore Natalie, who rubbed Karolina's athletic feet for another half hour. By the end of the day, Charlotte made Natalie an appointment to meet with the doctor sometime the following week. As Natalie was preparing a fruit smoothie for Charlotte later, the woman let slip that the introductory session alone cost $1500! It didn't surprise Natalie, but she had an ominous feeling about what kind of results would come for that price...

***

Natalie sat on a tiny chair in front of the doctor's desk, feeling quite intimidated in spite of herself.

Dr. Prisha Sahi was a middle-aged Pakistani woman with a large body and pendulous breasts. She dressed in such a way to emphasize her curves, unashamed of her thick thighs and meaty arms. She was at least a head taller than Natalie, and physically imposing in spite of her round face and full lips. Natalie had the feeling she was a schoolgirl in the principal's office, and the doctor's tone only made the situation worse.

"So, it seems to me that you have a... neurosis when it comes to feet," the doctor said in thickly accented english.

"I suppose so, but isn't that normal?" Natalie asked – even having to talk about feet was unpleasant.

"Perhaps in some instances. But it seems that this foot phobia is wrapped up in deeper psychological issues: like your class consciousness and wounded pride. If these go untreated, I am afraid you may suffer a psychological breakdown and become homeless or institutionalized."

Natalie balked. It sounded like the doctor wanted her to slave away at womens' feet and be smiling moronically the entire time! As though her anger at being treated like a slave girl was some handicap to be overcome!

"I'm not sure I agree, doctor--" Natalie began.

The woman gave Natalie a baleful glance which startled the poor girl so much that she stoped her sentence mid-thought.

"This is exactly the problem. Your mind is attempting to protect its own nerosis by denying my professional help. You will need extensive help to overcome this illness, but with my program I think you will succeed."

Natalie asked what the doctor's program entailed.

"Well, it is a sort of prolonged exposure therapy, with a structure of rewards and disincentives. Basically, you will be exposed to womens' feet in various contexts, and if you react positively you will get something good and if you react negatively you will get a forfeit."

Natalie tried to articulate herself in a way that wouldn't anger this woman – the 'therapy' already sounded sick and she wanted no part of it.

Dr. Sahi cut her off with a wave of her hand. Her fingernails were long and perfectly manicured in a bold red color.

"This is my treatment," the woman explained in an imperious tone, "you can accept it or not. But if you say no, I will alert Miss Charlotte. I imagine she would be quite unhappy for you to waste her money in this way."

Natalie thought of the things Charlotte could inflict upon her: homelessness, poverty, or even just worse treatment within her own home. She was powerless here, and her only hope was to agree with this madness until she had enough resources to get away.

So far she had only managed to save $100.

"Okay, Doctor Sahi," Natalie said, feeling a flash of anger at the woman's triumphant smile.

"What will this entail?"

The doctor wheeled her chair backwords a bit from her heavy wooden desk.

"Normally we would start with a smaller exposure and work our way up to this step, but I see that your illness is quite deep-seated. We will need to develop an accelerated plan for you."

The doctor went on.

"For the first session, I will need for you to crawl in the space beneath my desk. I will remove my shoes and place my feet on your face. We will remain this way for the rest of the session -- perhaps another thirty minutes or so. You are not to speak, and are to avoid all unecessary movements."

Natalie's eyes shot wide open, and she felt a wave of total dread wash across her entire body. This wasn't a 'treatment' – it was torture!

"Doctor, please--" Natalie said.

"Enough!" the woman roared, scowling at young Natalie.

"Follow my directions or leave my office! It's that simple."

Natalie bowed her head, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose to find the courage to continue. When she finished with that, she walked up to the doctors desk and got on her hands and knees, crawling into the dark little space down there. It was already claustraphobic and uncomfortable – the stiff floor pained her butt and the air seemed stale. Then the doctor scooted her chair forward, trapping Natalie down there.

"Good!" the doctor said, sounding sweeter. "Now I will remove my shoes and place my feet on your face. During this time, you will sit with your head and shoulders against the modesty panel of my desk. You will have your back on the ground, and your legs oustretched on either side of my rolling chair. It's better if you close your eyes – the reason you are beneath my desk is to eliminate any visual stimulation."

It took all of Natalie's determination to assume such a horrible pose. Before she shut her eyes, she noticed that the doctor had on opera-length black stockings and black pumps that seemed pretty worn. Time seemed to slow down as she heard leather shoes hit the floor, and then felt a damp, hot thing touch her face.

Her first instinct was to turn away – the Pakistani woman's feet were positively ripe! Being trapped in leather stilletoes all day, and supporting her considerable weight must have put a lot of stress on them, and Natalie almost gagged as some of the moisture from the woman's stockinged feet became stuck to her pretty young face. She was sure her face was green with how disgusted she felt right now.

"Do not turn away," the doctor said gravely. Natalie bit her lip in frustration, and returned her face to its original position facing the doctor.

Her 'reward' was another hot, sweaty foot coming down on her cheek – the woman had the audacity to rest both of her soles against Natalie's face! Natalie had no choice but to keep her eyes shut – Dr. Sahi had covered them with the balls of her feet. Prisha put both her plump feet against Natalie's face in such a way that the girl's nose peaked out between the woman's arches and spread her legs a little, for an unknown reason.

Natalie was truly in hell. Her face felt horribly warm and clammy – her own perspiration mixed with the sweat from the woman's feet to create a substance fouler than foul, and it seemed to coat her entire face. Her nose was overwhelmed with the sour, acrid aroma of Prisha's feet. It seemed to bypass her thinking mind and trigger her revulsion instinct – she could even notice such subtle things as the mingled blend of leather and foot sweat.

Dr. Sahi continued working at her desk, largely ignoring the girl. Occasionally, she would rub her soles up and down the length of Natalie's face, and one time she itched her sole against the girls' upturned nose! At one point, Natalie dared to open her eyes, and what she saw took her breath away.

Dr. Sahi had one finger on the outside of her panties, and she was teasing her meaty pussy lips through the cotton fabric while she rubbed her feet on Natalie's face! This was too much to stand – Natalie had to speak up.

"D-doctor, are you... adjusting yourself?" Natalie asked. She wasn't sure how to address another woman masturbating, so she just erred on the side of caution.

"Yes, Natalie," was the doctor's response. "I have a compulsion, and sometimes it is too hard to ignore. Since we are pretending you aren't there, I am acting as I normally would. Please do not say anything more."

What a paper-thin excuse! There was no legitimate reason for a woman to be masturbating as she rubbed her sweaty feet in Natalie's face unless she somehow got off on treating another person this way. But soon Prisha's dominant foot covered Natalie's eyes, and she swore she could feel the doctor's fingers moving more urgently at her womanhood. Was it really worth all this just to keep a crappy room in a house she used to own??

By the end of the thiry minutes, Natalie was worried she would go insane, locked away in that little prison. When the session finally finished, Natalie practically jumped out from beneath the woman's desk, looking totally undignified as she escaped. Even though she didn't want to, Natalie ventured a glance towards the woman's white cotton panties and saw they were totally soaked through. She could see the clear outline of the woman's fat lips, and a great deal of hair poking out from beneath the fabric. Natalie got away as quickly as she could, feeling like she had lost some part of herself down beneath that desk.

Dr. Sahi frowned, but ignored Natalie in favor of making a phone call to her receptionist.

"Yes, Ethan? Please bring me a fresh pair of panties. The white ones again. Thank you."

Natalie remained silent, and soon a young man came into the doctor's office with a respectful knock. She had seen him in the waiting room beforehand: early 20s, blond hair, attractive but in a androgynous or even effeminate way. His outfit didn't help: he had on tight black pants that looked more like yoga pants, and a salmon pink shirt. Maybe another guy could have pulled it off, but on him it just seemed effete.

To Natalie's surprise, the young man knelt before Dr. Sahi and reached beneath her mauve dress, then started pulling her panties down her legs! The doctor noticed Natalie's horrified expression, and began to explain herself.

"Don't worry about Ethan – this is part of his own treatment."

She rested one hand on the boy's head, mussing his hair a little.

"He came to me with erectile dysfunction issues, and couldn't quite afford my prices. I needed a receptionist, so we made a deal! It's part of his program to be open about his condition – I have him send messages to women on dating sites to lessen the stigma within his mind."

The boy was blushing – totally ashamed to have his issues broadcast like that as he eased the sodden panties down the doctor's thighs, and to her bare feet. In Natalie's imagination, the things were steaming hot, and she couldn't imagine any work relationship where a boy would handle his employer's dirty panties. When they were on the ground, Natalie saw they had a telltale wetness to them – a considerable amount of cum had soaked into the things and discolored them. With deference, Ethan took away the doctor's used panties and helped her step into a new pair, then started raising them up her legs for her. The doctor kept talking:

"After a few sessions, we realized something: he was too attached to skinny white girls with tiny waists and no boobs."

Natalie twitched: it felt like the doctor was deliberately describing her body type, and in a rather coarse way.

"So I am trying to get him to accept the beauty in a variety of different body shapes, starting with my own. Functionally, this means he must masturbate while looking at photos of me and other women like me. He must not finish without my permission, or permission from whoever is in the photo. This is to help him understand that his future partner will have her own needs. But while he follows a strict abstinence program, I completely encourage him to use his mouth to provide relief to different women – especially older ones whose husbands have lost interest in that specific duty."

Ethan had a pained expression on his face as he finally got the doctor's panties back on to her. He looked like he wanted to die, but instead scurried out of the room carrying the woman's undergarments as though they were a fragile artifact. Natalie had never seen anything so strange, and alarms were going off in her mind. The guy seemed totally cowed by this woman – what sort of twisted power did she have over him??

Would Dr. Sahi do something like that to her too?

"Anyway, as for you: you have failed this first day," Dr. Sahi said, looking at Natalie as though she were a traffic jam, or a poorly-behaved daughter.

Natalie couldn't believe it! How dare this bitch say she 'failed' – didn't she sit quietly while the woman rubbed her vile feet all across her face for half an hour?! And she didn't even call her out on playing with herself all the while, or comment on the woman's little sex-slave receptionist?!

"But how!?" Natalie demanded to know. Anger was rising within her, and anxiety about her fate beneath this woman's governance.

"You must be outwardly grateful for any exposure to womens' feet to help the treatment to take hold. You must smile, and appear thankful, and soon your mental attitude will shift to match your outward behavior. In fact, from now on it is better if you ask me for a session with my feet, and thank me afterwards. I can excuse it this time because you didn't know the rules, but we will need to repeat this specific program at least one more time... maybe more."

Natalie shook her head.

"I won't do it," she said, glaring at the hateful woman.

The thick Pakistani doctor was amazed at first, but collected herself. Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed and she gave Natalie a sadistic smile.

"Yes, I thought you might object. Just know that the stronger your objections are, the more extreme your treatment will be."

The threat was unmistakable, but Natalie wouldn't budge. When she realized Natalie wouldn't cave-on, the doctor continued lecturing.

"We have a correction for that. Go and tell Miss Charlotte that you had a critical failure today, and see what her response is. When you return, you will need to show me the proper humility."

The woman's tone told Natalie everything she needed to know – she clearly got off on having power over people. But Natalie recoiled at the idea of bowing to such a horrid person. She stood defiant, summoning all her resolve to make a stand here and now.

Dr. Sahi went on.

"You will open that door, get on your hands and knees, and crawl over to me. Then you will kiss the hem of my skirt and kneel by my side, waiting for my acknowledgment. When I give it to you, you will assume your position for as long as I desire. There may be other things I add to your penance, as well."

"I know this seems extreme, but it is required for your level of... recalcitrance."

Natalie just stared at the woman.

"Never!" Natalie roared. "Never in a million years will I sit beneath your mank feet for one minute! You... you bitch!"

Natalie expected this to catch the woman by surprise, but the sadistic doctor only seemed to delight in her little outburst.

"Very well, Natalie," the woman responded in a condescending tone. "You won't ever be beneath my feet again. And you definitely won't be strapped down to make sure you cannot interfere with the treatment. And you definitely won't take my dirty stockings home with you to clean, as a homework assignment..."

Natalie stormed out of the doctor's office, past the receptionist who looked like he was cradling the panties he had just taken, and bounded out onto the sidewalk. She was beyond herself with anger, and still her face reeked of Prisha's feet. She walked like a madwoman up the street, looking for the closest public bathroom where she could freshen up. A hostess at a nearby restaurant gave her a frightened look as she darted past her and into the restroom, scouring her pretty face with cheap soap and tepid water from the sink.

But as much as she scrubbed, she couldn't seem to get the smell of dirty feet out of her face. It felt like the odor had seeped into her subcutaneous skin, like some awful tattoo. When she realized her defeat, she looked up into the mirror at her reddened face. Only then did the gravity of her situation strike: she was about to return to her landlady with a 'critical failure,' and she couldn't imagine the punishments Charlotte Lamberton would met out for that.

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