FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Foot Slave

Part one of five

---

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

_ _

Things had not started either easily or lightly for Oriel, though the woman with long, flowing locks of blue hair – one thing that she was, at least, easily able to care for had been born a merchant's daughter. Used to travelling with her family and other merchants, they moved from one place to the next to sell their wares, collecting fine goods from faraway lands, though they had a growing home to return to. After some time, her mother settled at home to raise a family (travelling was tiring, after all, through Vannathas) and her father earned enough money to join her, in the end, sending out other merchants to buy and sell while he owned the company.

It was a fair deal. However, growing up in such an environment did not prepare her for the real world, one that sought to use her and abuse her. Oriel didn't get all that much chance to interact with others beyond the merchant group, much less the anthros, the animals. They walked like humans, mostly, standing on two legs, but it was humans still who were at the bottom of the social ladder.

Oriel understood why her mother kept her close for so many years, the penchant for throwing humans into slavery (of various means) too prevalent in the anthro community. She'd often had to dodge them even in the market, clinging to her mother's skirts, while her mother shielded her with her body.

She'd learned that lesson early on, to stay away from anthros, not to get close to them; one never knew what insidious means they had hidden behind their fangs, after all. And yet she had not learned how to do that and how she was not even safe in public, when she thought she had to be safe, yes, because there were people around, other humans like her. It all depended, in the end, who cared to protect her and, well, there were previous few of those left in the world, frankly.

Of course…she'd slipped up in the end. Someone with her blue hair, well…she was a prize to be taken and anthros wanted humans like her for a very particular, dark need. Only, Oriel ended up in the worst of such places, against her will.

All Oriel had been trying to do had been eating at the tavern, her cloak thrown over her shoulders, keeping a mild, watchful eye out for any trouble. The tavern, before, had been safe for both humans and animals like, but she had had a flagon of ale and her senses were light and tipsy when she left the tavern at a late hour, dress coming down neatly to her ankles. It swished as she walked, covering up the footsteps of a cloaked and hooded figure following her.

She hesitated at the entrance to an alleyway, chancing that she saw something in the blackness – and then remembered no more as a sharp pain lanced into her skull.

The next thing she knew, she was blinking herself awake with a pounding headache, naked and bare, on a huge bed. Her fingers jumped to her neck, finding a collar around it, one that could not be unbuckled, forever denoting her a slave where it locked, unless, of course, the anthro that owned her chose to set her free again. And why would they do that when human beings were a valuable commodity?

She inhaled shortly and sharply, eyes widening with fear. The bed, the collar, even the chain holding her to the edge of the bed, heavy and unyielding… She knew where she was in the finery of the room, though Oriel had, frankly, never understood why such finery and luxury was needed for a place where such dirty deeds took place.

The brothel. One of the brothels. Yes, that had to be where she was, her heart pounding, a deep, driving ache ringing between her ears, breath tight in a chest that no longer seemed to want to draw air in. She had obviously always avoided the brothels, even though they were numerous throughout the realm, in towns and cities and beyond. Where most were legal, there were worse ones too and it was with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, curling her bare toes, that she thought that, horrifically, perhaps…

…she could have been in one of those.

“No, no, no…"

Oriel muttered to herself, though the words practically died on her lips, they were so quiet. She turned her head slowly, back and forth, realising that her hair too had been cut. That was not good, that was very not good, and there was a horrifically rank smell in the air, clawing at her nostrils, though not even pressing her hand over her face would have stifled it.

“Ugh…"

She hacked and gagged. It was worse than her father's boots after travelling – by far! Stinking and reeking, it sank into her body as if it was becoming a part of her and, for a moment, Oriel was glad that she didn't have that long hair anymore for it to infuse into also, though that was a small thanks to give, considering the dire nature of the situation that stretched out before her.

She had to get out, somehow, had to find a way to escape.

The wooden bedroom door swung open and Oriel hastened to draw her legs up onto the bed, tucking her knees up close to her body to protect her modesty.

The woman that entered was tall, though not much more than Oriel, slender though – a rat anthro with long, flowing black hair that looked ever so slightly wavy. Wearing a corset that highlighted her figure and a set of underwear that covered her modesty, Oriel could not help but notice that her bare feet were exposed, tipped with light claws, toes wriggling and dancing across the bare, polished floorboards of the brothel bedroom as if the woman, even then, was trying to draw attention to herself.

“Ah, so glad to see you are awake," the rat said, her eyes narrowing beadily, though there was a sick kind of beauty in her too. “You've been asleep a very long time and you have work to do, girlie. I am Idril, your owner, and you are now a sex slave of the brothel. I would congratulate you, but I suppose you'll need some time to come to terms with the reality of your situation…"

Oriel swore that the rat woman wanted to roll her eyes, though only just managed to hold back. She had that air about her, as if the will of the slaves was beyond even her attention, even if she was the one owning them there and trapping her there. She tapped a quill on a board before her, which held a piece of paper, the quill already loaded with ink.

“Now, girl…" She said, addressing Oriel with an air of superiority. “Your complete obedience to myself and my staff is expected at all times. If you behave, you will be treated well. If you misbehave and do not please clients… You will be treated accordingly."

Oriel scowled, shaking her head.

“No! Why the hell would I do anything for you? You don't own me – no one will ever own me! My father will come – my family!"

Idril smiled dangerously, showing her larger, rat-like front teeth. Although her muzzle was long and elegant, there was a scrawniness to it too when the skin along the sides wrinkled. And her short coat of hair was not grey or black or a typical rat colour either, but more of a grey-green, as if she had dyed it. Or maybe that was Idril's natural colour, though it was not as if Oriel was going to ask her at all how it had come to be.

“No one is coming for you, girl. So, you'd best get used to this. You're a sex slave now, dear, and you're always going to be one, as long as you're useful. And this brothel focuses on the best fetish of all – you won't have heard of the brothel's name, of course. We keep things quiet, selling out our best girls to the right clients for the best price, you see."

Oriel quivered but did not dare ask Idril just what the brothel did. The rat woman grinned, eyes darkening with greed.

“Yes… We focus on feet here, in all their glorious forms. Clean and fresh is hardly the play of the day or the big money maker, but you're going to learn, in detail, how to please so many feet, from the dirtiest to the most aromatic, to the sweatiest too… You have much training to go through, but I think I have some clients set up for you already."

Oriel gaped, stomach falling, a strange sense of light-headedness flowing through her. It felt like she was falling, yet she could still feel the presence of her body right there on the bed, how the mattress and sheets indented lightly under her weight, the cloth of it brushing against her skin in a tactile sense. Of course, the reek of what she then knew to be feet was in the air too, holding her there, shocking her into some kind of new reality – a reality that she never, ever, not ever, would have chosen for herself.

Yet Oriel was never given the choice. Like so many other abducted and abused humans, though not all of them ended up in the sickest of brothels, she was held to account for the payday of another.

“Please…" She whispered, breaking too quickly, or at least begging, striving to appeal to Idril's better nature. “Please… Don't do this. Please, no… No… I don't want this, I don't want any of this! Let me go – let me go!"

Her tone twisted into a fair shriek of hysteria, forgetting her nudity, scrambling from the bed and wrenching at the chain. Pain blistered through her shoulders as the collar caught her throat, a cold bite snapping at her neck, but she hauled and hauled and hauled, eyes brimming over with traitorous tears of frustration.

The strike that knocked her sideways clocked her head and shoulder and she was sent sprawling, the hot pain creeping through her a few moments later, as if it had taken that long for her mind to register the blow. Idril stood over her, shaking her head slowly, all presence of a smile, even a wicked one, swept from her face.

“That'll be the end of you, bitch," Idril hissed, “if you ever make such a foolish attempt ever again. Get into line and you'll survive. That's all there is to it, girl, so shape up or I'll let my worst clients do what they will to you."

Sobbing, Oriel clung to the foot of the bed, seeking some sense of stability, something to shelter her, even as Idril strutted from the room, up on the balls of her feet, as if the interaction between them meant nothing at all.

She howled and faded, crying herself into a fitful sort of sleep, as her life and the world she had known crumbled before her eyes.

Still, the reek of feet remained.

She'd grow familiar with it.

_ _

*

_ _

She was fed but not clothed, not that Oriel had expected that. She was left naked, sometimes in a small, bare room and plain bed, though it seemed that they were allowed mattresses at least, even if they weren't especially comfortable. There was no window in her shared room, though there was no one else on the other bed, not yet. Oriel was not to know that Idril's isolation of her was just one step in her breaking, her forced foot fetish abuse.

But she didn't even like feet! She didn't like anything, not any fetish, though she was not a virgin. She'd had a roll in the hay, or two, with a merchant boy, the two of them of age and just wanting to experiment, though that had not gotten her anywhere and a big part of her doubted that she would ever see him ever again.

But she couldn't think like that, no. She had to stay fast, she had to be resolute, had to keep thinking, all the time, that she would get out again, would see the light of the outside world again. It was all that she had left in her to hope for, though there was little indication, at least to her, of the days passing.

Eventually, however, after having Oriel scrub herself clean in a cold-water shower that felt like it was fed by rainwater and nothing else, Idril summoned her to the brothel rooms again, where the clients – and training – resided.

She walked into the bedroom with towering anthros on either side of her: the staff members that Idril had mentioned before. Oriel kept her head down, as if she was going along with everything willingly, as if she had accepted her fate, though her eyes still kept going to the scantily clad staff. The anthros ranged from a serval to a mouse, though she had seen a horse, a rabbit, a big wolf and even a snake too. There didn't seem to be any limit to those that passed through the brothel's doors, though all the staff members were women.

Some of them went around with their bodies exposed, others left skimpy bras and lingerie on, using babydolls and even more teasing, long, flowing garments to draw the eye to their bodies, though the fabric, of course, would always be sheer. There was not much of an air of mystery to the brothel, though there didn't need to be either – not when the focus, ultimately, was all on the feet of those there. Even the staff members, surely, had to rile up the guests, to make them see just a taste and a taunting glimpse of all they would be taking from the sex slaves.

Curling her fingers around her collar, the serval shoved Oriel forward into the bedroom with such force that Oriel dropped to her knees, tripping and crying out. Idril turned from where she had been standing at the window, poised and waiting, though she was dressed more scantily that day. With a deep blue bra and pantie set that set off the green-grey of her fur, she was sleek and powerful, perhaps even more so than she had been when Oriel had first laid eyes on her. Even the lines of her hip bones stood out on her lithe form, lean and mean, the kind of anthro who wouldn't take shit off anyone.

“Ah, finally." Idril frowned as she called another in, for she was not speaking to Oriel directly. “Now… There are some things to be considered here, of course. This slave is in training, Lycra, and I want to ensure that she is warmed up and trained correctly for our customers. Come in, settle yourself. Let us begin her education."

From the doorway behind Oriel entered a tall shark woman with a swinging tail. She had feet, unlike some of her animal kind, her skin grey and white with a lighter front to her body, which may have been reminiscent of the camouflage of her natural species. Oriel guessed, though it was of no real consequence to her in her situation, that she was a great white, but she wasn't all that well-versed on sea creatures.

Even though she was not a mammalian creature, she still had breasts, as did most female anthros, differentiating them from the four-legged animals that roamed the world also. Her sharp teeth showed in a predatory smile, Oriel quailing back to the ground, on her knees instinctively, hoping against hope that the scantily clad shark woman would not see her, even as she stalked by.

Lycra, possibly, could have been said to be wearing a dress, though it was a stretch. Frankly, Oriel had never seen anyone in such skimpy attire before, never in her travels with her family either, the dress hugging the shark woman's figure and crisscrossing over her chest with straps, though they were just to highlight her body further, to taunt and to tempt at the lures of the female form. The dress cut sharply across the very tops of her thighs, so short that she should have needed pants or some kind of underwear underneath.

Oriel did not look to see if she was wearing such, eyes shifting fearfully from the shark's tail-fin to her bare feet, tipped with claws that were painted a rich purple – the same colour as her hair, which fell down her back in a long, thick braid. Two others followed her, a leopard gecko and a raccoon, but Oriel, understandably, did not pay them as much mind as the one that Idril had initially addressed.

“Ladies," Idril said, still speaking to those around Oriel, as she was left with no one in the room bar Idril, Lycra and the two other staff members. “Bind her. I don't want this slave able to move an inch."

Her tone was heavy but it was fair and it seemed that those there knew how to best complete the tasks that Idril set before them. The gecko and the raccoon moved swiftly, seemingly uncaring of their state of undress, wearing only skimpy lingerie, her arms and legs clasped by hands that were tipped with short claws in the case of the raccoon, though the gecko's hands were more disconcerting still. And, of course, even then, there were her feet to contend with, though they did not seem to smell, even if her eyes kept going back to them, again and again, fearful of the fetish that was due to be forced upon her, even against her will. It was not as if they, after all, had any qualms about the fetish, only in debasing and abusing her, in making her a part of it – a part that could make them a lot of money in the brothel.

“No! I won't do it – let me go! Let me go right now!"

She squalled and screamed, but, even then, Oriel knew that no one was going to appear from nowhere to rescue her. She wasn't living a fairy tale, not by a long shot, and they heaved her bodily up onto the bed, all of the animals there so much larger and stronger than her. Lycra, seemingly, did not have to wrestle with her, for the shark woman had something far more poignant to do to Oriel, grinning widely as she watched her victim fight back.

Of course, there was no way that Oriel was going to break free, her blue hair sweaty as it clung to the nape of her neck, even though it was still trimmed short, all for their use of her. Her skin glistened with sweat as she was slammed back down into the soft bed, her arms and legs bound spread-eagled so that she couldn't move, hardly thrashing, even though she felt like she was wrenching and hauling her whole body back and forth. The bed bowed lightly under her, sinking into the soft sheets, though Oriel knew they were not there for her comfort, no, not by any means.

The shark woman approached, reaching up to untie the straps at the back of her dress, up at the back of her neck.

“I assume you don't want me to show them any mercy?" Lycra said, but it was more as if the shark was saying it aloud so that Oriel knew what was to happen, rather than trying to confirm anything with Idril. “She's so small and frail… It's the perfect slave."

Idril grinned.

“Everything you have in you, Lycra. This slave should know her place by the time that you are done with her."

Oriel shuddered, watching in fear, lips moving soundlessly, as the shark smoothly stripped off her dress, letting it slide down her chest and stomach and over her hips, all the way down to the ground. Oriel's eyes lingered on her feet, shuddering in revulsion – one of those big, full-body shudders that rippled through her, one that could not have been hidden even if she had had the presence of mind to try.

“You're going to be fun to break," she laughed, yet her words came with a snapping bite to them. “I always go barefoot…and you're going to get a full dose of it. Best get used to it, just like your Mistress Idril says."

The staff did not call the rat woman mistress, of course, but the reminder of the fact that Idril was her mistress and her own had Oriel, unconsciously, fighting back all over again. She heaved and let out a strangled, broken howl, though was not quite able to get up the presence of mind to spit. If she had, maybe she would have bought herself a few moments more as Lycra slipped onto the bed, sitting between Oriel's open legs, facing her.

While the woman fought her bonds, she raised her feet slowly, letting Oriel's eyes lock onto them all over again.

Lycra slowly flexed her feet, scrunching the toes and then splaying them out right in front of Oriel, letting her get a good look over them. It had been a while since she had had a fresh slave to toy with and she was more than eager to have another's face press and mould around their rugged shape. The soles were even a little meaty, a little voluptuous, feet that carried her through her daily life at the brothel, though using the slaves was one of Lycra's favourite activities.

Despite the relatively clean floors of the brothel, her soles were still just a little bit dirtied from her barefoot traversal, the undersides of the sole and the heel slightly red from the activity of the day too. Oriel recoiled with a shudder, the feet visibly moist with sweat, beads rolling down, though it was between the active, wriggling toes that it trickled and pooled, specks of dirt and other filth trapped between the pits of the toes.

Oriel moaned, shrinking away, shaking her head, as Lycra's toes curled downwards in gratifying relief, scrunching tightly into an array of wrinkles. And then they curled back up again, a little yellowed from the pressure, standing out more to Oriel from her position considering that Lycra's soles were white on the undersides. She cringed and screwed up her face, bile rising in the back of her throat as their tangy, rancid stink pulled at her.

“There you go, slave," the shark woman teased, less than slightly, wiggling her toes as she slid her feet, slowly but surely, closer to Oriel. “You are going to be getting a lot of this and my feet are the best of them. I didn't wash today, I rarely wash my feet, so they're nice and pungent for a good little foot slave…"

Oriel squealed and tried to yank her head back and away as far as possible, up towards the pillows, though they didn't even touch her head, so large was the bed that she had been bound to. Her eyes had to go back to this obviously damp, clammy soles, watching in horror how the toes wriggled.

“Please… No… Please, don't do it…"

Oriel whimpered, though would never be sure whether her words were heard as the closeness of Lycra's soles blocked out even the shark's face. Oriel did not know whether that was better or worse, not being able to see the shark's sharp teeth anymore, though the decision was taken out of her mind as her smelly feet pressed and rubbed over her face.

“Mmmph! Nnngggghhhh!"

She moaned, fingers closing and opening from fists, trying to grab at something, anything, that she could use to shove off the shark. And yet she was seemingly stuck there, willpower crumbling, though it stuck into a deep, dark part of herself, whimpers and sobs breaking her lips as she tried to beg. Her words, however, were muffled by the very feet that were torturing her, Idril, elsewhere in the room, smiling at how the foot slave was getting into the swing of her work to come. It was better that way, of course, though many clients liked unwilling slaves.

Lycra cooed, somewhat sensually, as the soles of her feet finally made good contact with Oriel's face, pressing and moulding over the features of her face. Oriel grunted but the shark was swift to silence her as Lycra's feet pressed and squeezed into her, gripping her cheeks and plastering over her mouth.

And she was merciless about it too as she introduced the slave to the pleasures of feet, curling her feet over the contours of Oriel's skull, hair tickling her soles, to grip her tightly, in a forcibly hot, cloying, dense hold. Oriel squeaked and squirmed, yet her protests were muffled.

However, she could not damage her and eased off the pressure slightly, letting the woman see the full scope of her feet, the rougher soles, beginning a volley of different, devious manoeuvres.

Oriel could not help hacking and gagging, the shock of having feet on her face fading slightly as the reek hit her, a full whiff of the shark's feet seeping into her nostrils. Their smell was finally revealed to her, the sweatiness of them sinking into her as she retched dryly.

What was wrong with the shark? Why were her feet…like that?

It was not quite the worst thing that Oriel had ever inhaled, but it was vile, gross and off-putting nonetheless, her head reeling. As the woman gasped for fresh air, Lycra smirked and glanced back at the other brothel ladies, amusement painted over her face.

Yet the sweat almost acted like a sticky adhesive as Lycra insisted that Oriel be smothered by her feet, plastering her right sole over her forehead and cheek. Oriel struggled and fought, though Lycra paddled her feet over her, amusing herself, her feet peeling away with a sickening tug to Oriel's head every time. The shark hummed to herself, flexing her feet at the wet, slapping touch, which was almost like a massage to Lycra, her feet wrinkling and scrunching against Oriel's nose and forehead. Oriel grunted deep in the back of her throat, head spinning, straining to curl back and away from the stomach-turning sensation of sweaty feet stuck to her face and peeling away, repeatedly.

“Kiss her feet, slave, lick them all over."

Idril's order came and fell on deaf ears as Oriel tried, desperately, not to inhale that reek all over again, though, of course, she had to breathe at some point. The shark curled her toes, taunting her yet again with the proximity of her feet, though what Oriel had not expected was their texture. The shark woman folded her left foot around Oriel's face, covering her eyes with her toes, though one thing that Lycra was cautious of was not poking Oriel's eyes with her claws. The merchandise could not be damaged, after all, not without the right price being paid…

Oriel grunted, flinching from the pressure of the shark's foot even as her stomach turned over in revulsion. The stench of pungent, rich foot sweat was overpowering, so much so that she thought, for a moment, that she was going to faint, an aroma of fish and the sea winding through too. No one could stay conscious when all that was going on, sinking into her nostrils and defacing her lungs, after all! Yet it was only the beginning of so many worse things that were to come, the shark woman laughing as she wriggled and danced her toes over Oriel's forehead. Her feet pressed to the woman's cheeks, on either side of her face, Lycra's knees pointing out so that she could press in more easily with both feet at once. Oriel's body, after all, was no more than a toy to her.

“Take a big, deep sniff now, foot slave," Lycra taunted her, toes pressing in briefly and then relieving the pressure. “Look, I'll even make it easier for you – take a good whiff now!"

If Oriel had even thought about screaming or crying, the notion would have been ripped from her like any other sense of control that she had once had over herself. She cringed and strained to pull back from the offered foot, her face already damp with the sweat that had clung to the shark's rougher skin. Was that because Lycra's skin was rougher all over, like other sharks, or was that just the way that her feet were? Maybe that was why there was a fishy reek to her feet too… It wasn't something that Oriel was ever going to ask them, not even wanting, truly, to know.

The shark flexed and pumped her feet over Oriel's face, claws dragging and scraping lightly, tipping each toe. They did not break her skin, however, not even as they dragged down towards her lips. Lycra changed tactic, angling her foot along the side of Oriel's head, smirking softly as she openly delighted in every “smoosh" of her flesh, how the skin yielded like silk under the coarse force of the “ball pad" of her foot.

“Nnngghhhh…"

A softer groan slipped from Oriel as she tried to retreat inside herself, to not think about what she was doing too much. However, that was impossible when she had to breathe, the aroma of heady, sweaty feet filling her senses, making her lightly dizzy, as if she had sat up too quickly after lying down for a long time. Her toes curled, disgusted, but that was one of few outward expressions of her horror that she could make, the shark's body weighing her down even as she sweated from her exertion in her bonds.

The shark's foot slid smoothly in a glide around the side of Oriel's head, pinching her ear neatly and sharply between two toes, demanding her attention. Oriel sucked in an unwanted breath and flinched, Lycra's eyes dancing, her arousal warming even more between her thighs. To see the slave squirm was just what Lycra wanted.

If I bear through this, she thought, I will get out. I will find a way out.

_ _

Oriel turned her head away and Lycra swiftly punished her with a sharp slap across the face, stinging, from Lycra's sole. The shark pressed her feet down, harder, clenching her teeth as she exerted herself, putting more and more pressure on Oriel's face as the woman whimpered, her feet sinking an entire inch deeper into the softer flesh.

“Head forward!" The shark snapped. “Sniff more, slave, I don't want to have to get Idril to show you what a good slave does."

Against her will, Oriel obeyed, grunting as she inhaled, taking short, sharp sniffs, for that felt like it would be easier to bear. The shark's feet were held together in front of her face, side by side, allowing her face to press right up to them, though Oriel did not miss how the toes flaunted and wafted the scent closer and closer to her. It grew stronger and stronger with how close she was to them, sniffing and inhaling, though she was not obeying. It just looked like she was.

“Now, lick…"

That was harder to disobey as her mind crumbled a little more, sticking her tongue out. Would it end her torment? She didn't know whether that was a possibility, though she was willing to try, grunting and panting, trying not to breathe too deeply, even then.

The shark pressed her hand between her legs, fingers sliding over the lips of her bare sex where her juices had gathered, showing her arousal, while Oriel was forced to lick over every bare inch of her rough, smelly feet. Lycra's lips curled up into a grin that Oriel could not see, enjoying the process of breaking a new slave as much as she would have in simply using Oriel. Whether a slave was broken or needing to be broken was not all that much of a concern to her. She had, however, made sure that her feet got extra sweaty on the walk there, taking a potion to make sure that her feet would be damp throughout, sweating only through them.

Just a little treat, of course, for the new foot slave at the brothel.

“Poor slave…"

She teased her easily, knowing that there was nothing that Oriel could do to push back against her. Leaning forward, the shark ran her fingers over Oriel's pussy, exposed between her legs, human skin fascinating to her. So soft and so delicate… Nothing at all like shark-skin, no. But she wanted more, yes, to abuse Oriel even more, dipping her fingers, just two, into her sex and pressing them deep.

Oriel grunted into the shark's foot, but Lycra had pressed her entire foot over the woman's mouth to muffle her, to make it so that it was even more difficult for her to protest. It was not as if anyone was going to help her anyway, not as her pussy was abused, penetrated without her permission, eyes watering from the rich, sea-like aroma of sweat clinging to that foot and her face. It was so damp still, feeling as if it left a smear of sweat behind in its wake every time each of her feet moved, but Oriel didn't know how much of that she was imagining or not. Maybe that was just what happened when someone was barefoot as much as Lycra was…

It mattered and it didn't matter, no… She was lost there as Oriel groaned deeply, pulling on one last strand of willpower. As far as she could go, she turned her head away from the shark, denying her, though she did not dare part her lips more than was needed for her tongue to stick out. For as much as she tried to deny the shark what she wanted from her, her tongue still tried to be wickedly obedient, tried to put off any punishment, if it was coming, to get through her foot slave abuse.

The reek softened for a moment and Oriel breathed a little more easily, looking back across the room towards the door, taking in some fresher air. It was still there, but more like the “old boot" foot smell that had permeated her quarters and any room that she had been taken to so far. It was easier to bear.

But only for a moment.

The shark clicked her tongue disapprovingly against the roof of her mouth and, too easily, wrapped one foot all the way around the back of Oriel's head.

“Come back here, slave… We don't allow that!"

Lycra frowned as Oriel's head was pulled back around, using her left foot with the claws brushing through Oriel's hair to drag her head back around so that she had nowhere to go to escape. The shark's right foot, however, pressed to the other side of Oriel's face, rubbing the damp, cloying wetness into her skin, her toes tickling and folding right over her nose so that she was forced to inhale the sharp reek with every breath.

“There's nowhere for you to go, slave," Lycra all but crooned, though it was a very un-sharklike sound for her to make. “You don't need to fight it, just give in. Take it all in, the smell, the stank… This is all that our lovely clients are going to be giving you anyway."

Oriel shuddered as the next words washed over her, lightheaded. Was she going to faint?

“Get used to it."

That was all they said. Telling her, over and over again, to get used to the reek of foot sweat and the ocean, of having big, pushy feet on and around her face, tugging and pulling even at her nostrils as they pressed around, using her face as if it was a foot massager. The shark's fingers toyed with her pussy, though Oriel did not know what was worse, whether the sliding pressure of those fingers within her sex or the overpowering, eye-watering reek of the shark's feet, how they left a sense of dampness on her face. Oriel had thought she was perspiring at first, before she'd realised that it was just the sweat coming more and more quickly from the shark's feet, though some of the beads had rolled together, leaving her feet damper and clammier in places than before. It was more the fact that the sweat still was ever-present, coming as quickly as it was rubbed off on her with her eyes poked by a teasing toe, her pussy hotter and hotter, losing control, that was difficult to bear through.

Oriel moaned, but she didn't understand why her body felt closer and closer to orgasm. The shark smirked, using a cheeky spell, so subtle that Oriel didn't realise what was happening, to stimulate orgasm, the woman's cheeks heating up, bright red and eyes wide, despite everything.

“Oh… Ohhhh!"

Oriel moaned, shamefully trying to remain quiet as Lycra shot her a look and, desperately, she licked and kissed at the shark's toes, suckling briefly on each of the four toes, trying to find some relief. She didn't know what she was doing, where she was, no, nothing at all, not as everything washed through her, sweltering and overpowering in the foot fetish sex brothel, a den from which they said she would never again escape.

Lycra used a claw tip to draw a rune on Oriel's pussy, keeping two fingers deep inside, the zigzag of her skilled fingers pulling Oriel's need to the forefront. Balancing it there, setting her body awash in pleasure against her will, Lycra held her there, if only for a moment, letting Oriel feel how everything pressed and pulled, teasing her to the edge.

Grabbing a cluster of Oriel's hair with her deft toes, she wove her toes in-between, toying with her. The shark wriggled the toes of her other foot close to her lips, poking at them while she fondled one of her own tits. Of course, Oriel's eyes were on her, though not in arousal, even as Lycra slipped a finger into her mouth, suckling on it seductively, swirling her tongue around and around with a low, long, drawn-out moan. Encouraging a slave to suck on her toes was not unusual, slick saliva coating her finger, but Oriel was a tougher one to crack. Most were.

Oriel panted heavily, pulling back, shaking her head, though Lycra gripped her face once again with her feet, “smooshing" in her cheeks on either side, forcing her lips to pucker up and kiss her soles, lavishing attention on the sweaty, moist underside, again and again. Oriel groaned, shrinking down, though there was nowhere to go, trapped in a cage of feet, arms and legs aching from straining against her bonds so much.

Knowing that she was close, Lycra held her even more tightly with her feet, not caring for kisses and licks and sniffs right then, only that the foot slave submitted, gave in to her, completely and utterly. Lycra even squeezed her toes more tightly around the woman's nose, just to further diminish any meagre attempted turn of her head. She growled faintly, eyes alight in domination – and, oh, how easy it was with a foot slave like that. The woman was so small and delicate, innocent in a way and untried in the world. In the foot fetish den, they were going to break her down until she thought that she had always been a foot slave and no more than that.

Lycra could not wait to see how far they could take her…

Oriel whimpered, trying to muffle her shameful cries as she humped and rocked her hips, a servant to lust, forgetting even herself as she strained and strained, climaxing hard. It was wrong, so very wrong, for she didn't understand why her body was pushed over the edge, if she had really, in some way, been enjoying what had been happening to her. Yet broken ecstasy overruled all else as her pussy tugged and twitched around the shark's fingers, driving in harder and faster, thumb rubbing over her clit, all while those four-toed feet loosened and danced over her face. It was not as if Oriel, despite her struggles, could pull back all that far from the shark anyway.

Better just to give in to it.

Her mind trembled through climax, the reek of feet sinking more and more deeply into her. Yet, like any climax, it had to taper off, the come-down something of a let-down. For she was still there, in the brothel bedroom, heaving and panting, four figures looking at her, Idril, Lycra and the two staff members, all with like smiles and smirks on their faces. She shuddered, turning her face away, though was only confronted with Lycra's foot, as if she was never going to get away from it again, looming and huge and dominating her vision. She groaned. There would be no more shrieks from her, saving her breath and her energy for subtler ways of expressing herself. It was all Oriel could do.

But the shark was not yet done with her, lint and dirt transferring from Lycra's sweaty feet to Oriel's face, making her cough and gag still anytime her nose went close to that vile toe gap. There was nowhere to go, but it was still difficult to put up with the sudden increase in smell. Why was she sweatier?

Lycra laughed, noticing her discomfort, a sinister smile stretching her lips.

A sole suddenly slapped around Oriel's mouth, tightening its grip, sweaty creases and wrinkles pressing and bending against her lips with her toes gripping and squeezing the side of Oriel's cheek.

Gagged.

Oriel tried to squirm, but she was still weak from climax, Lycra taking advantage and violently shoving Oriel's head down onto the bedsheet as the springs squeaked their protest. Her other foot wrapped four clambering toes over Oriel's nose, tightly clenching them around it, locking it into the pit and the putrid embrace of her damp toes.

“Breathe."

Just a single word, but the shark demanded it. Struggling, flinching, Oriel let out a muffled shout into the shark's sole, but Lycra only tutted disapprovingly and scrunched her toes harder into her face as a warning. The shark's arousal was high, leaking more and more onto the bedsheets between her legs as she panted. Her fingers drove into her pussy, aching for orgasm as her face twisted in pure bliss. Her eyes squinted as her eyebrows furrowed, taking every chance while the slave, just a little, crumbled.

Hesitantly, Oriel slowly responded…giving her a deep, slow inhale. And then another. And then another. Until she reached four, breathing in the clammy aroma as tears welled up in her eyes from the stench.

That was all the shark needed. Climax erupted through her, exploding as she shouted.

“Ohhhhhh!"

There was no containing her juices, squirting over Oriel's waist and the surrounding bedsheets, huffing from her ordeal. Sharp and brilliant, exactly how she liked to get off. Only then did she release her grip more, panting, a smirk on her face, though it was generous of her to slack off at all.

“That's it, girl," Idril said from behind Lycra, Oriel coughing, disgust wrecking her. “That's what we want."

Lycra settled back down between the slave's legs, her feet returning to their favoured position at Oriel's face, framing it as she showed her sharp teeth in a wide smile.

“That's just the start of it," she said with a throaty laugh, sounding every bit the predator that Oriel had expected her to be. “Oh, little foot slave… You're going to be much-loved here, but you're not going to love much of it yourself, are you?"

Oriel whimpered, swallowing the cry the best that she could. Idril's lips pressed together into a thin line, a line that promised that she was going to be useful and used. Though Oriel would only come to see that later.

“At the brothel, she doesn't need to love anything."

Continued in part two…