Chassing Success

The next thing I knew, I was coming to, in that exact same position. I couldn't be sure how long I had been out, but it must have been a while as the restaurant looked pretty much the way it did when we entered, save that now everyone seemed to have left.

I gathered my thoughts and started to sit up. Shit, my head hurt, and I was still covered in filth, instantly reminding me of the ordeal I had suffered that night. I got to my feet and sought the nearest toilet to clean up. After exiting, I went back along the streets we had trodden hours earlier, deep in disturbed contemplation.

What had caused Beth to flip and become so sadistic? Why did she wait almost 6 months before executing this fiendish plan? Who was Lucy, really? Why did all those women join in? Most importantly, why me? I am just a reasonably successful consultant. What did they have to gain by bringing me into all this shit?

I paused, and then my blood ran cold again as I recalled Beth's final words about controlling my life. They rang repeatedly, driving a dire sense of dread over what lay ahead. I was back at work on Monday, and Beth would be there!

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Monday arrived, and the pit of my stomach was churning. I had spent most of Sunday running scenarios through my mind, trying to second-guess what Beth would say and do when we met. What if she had already sent that video around? That would finish my professional reputation. I couldn't face my colleagues and customers with their perception that video was the real me. Having played through every scenario, I resolved that I just had to go in and act on the spot to whatever was coming my way. I couldn't resign and move away. I didn't have the appetite or resources to make that work, and I had a mortgage on my house to manage in the short term.

It was now a little after eight, and I was heading up the steps of our London office into the foyer. I paused and glanced at the company sign, 'Forward Thinking Associates'. This company had been my life for several years now, and I was just starting to make headway with the chance of the upcoming promotion. Damn, I thought. Did Beth's mother really know the selection committee, or was that just another case of her playing me? Only time will tell.

As I walked across the foyer and brushed my access pass over the security gate to pass through, I heard a stern voice behind me. "Chris, I need a word now".

I spun around to see Beth standing behind me, resplendent, beautiful and utterly formidable in her navy blue business suit, sky blue open shirt, flesh-coloured stockings and black pumps. She had her hands on her hips, and her head was slightly tipped back so she could sneer as she looked down her nose at me.

Snapping out of my doubts, I reminded myself that we were peers at work. She had no power or authority over me here, and she certainly wouldn't make a scene in the company foyer as it would damage her reputation as much as mine. "Sorry, Beth, I stammered. I am running late and must jump straight to the office". As I started to turn towards the lifts, Beth grabbed my arm.

"Oh, you will want to prioritise my needs a little better than that, don't you, Chris?" She snarled. Then, leaning in towards me so only I could hear added, "After all, I own you now, Footwipe. My wants and needs are your orders. Don't fucking test me!" She backed away, resuming her composure and professional standing to complete her instruction. "We can get one of the grab-and-go meeting rooms here on the ground floor, Chris, to discuss my proposition".

The way she was able to slip between sadistic bitch and supercool professional colleague was frankly frightening. I decided to hear her out, figuring it would at least give me an insight into her plans and create an opportunity for me to work out my own response. I nodded, and she turned to make her way to the meeting rooms with me in tow.

As I entered, Beth was already sitting at the head of the table, staring intently at me. "Close the door, Chris. We will need a little privacy for this discussion," she added. I didn't like the sound of that but closed the door as instructed and turned to walk towards Beth, ready to take the seat next to her.

"Not there, you stupid fuck. On the floor here beneath me. I want to be looking down on your miserable face while I tear your life apart. And anyway, I know how much you love my sweaty feet, right?"

She then laughed out so loud I thought someone outside would hear, but to my relief, I remembered these rooms were professionally soundproofed. I sat underneath Beth as instructed while she finished gorging herself on laughter to my despair.

I waited and listened intently whilst she deliberately paused for at least two minutes, holding me in suspense. All the time, she continued looking at me with contempt and disgust and an evil smirk on her calculating face.

She then spoke, finally breaking a truly uncomfortable silence on my part. "Ok, here is how this works. The video I took on Saturday is now with a select group. I do not intend to use it to break you, as I believe you already know I own you completely now anyway. You will do whatever I say immediately without thought, personal consideration and despite consequences. I will allow you to maintain a degree of professional dignity here at the office but only within the boundaries that you remain a personal advocate of my agenda and management instructions. At this point, you should consider yourself under me in all aspects." She paused to allow the words to resonate, then went on.

"As my personal toy, I may exert certain humiliations and degradations on you in front of our work colleagues from time to time, but I will allow you to maintain a minimum working level of dignity just enough to keep you employed here. Understand?" She paused again, this time staring at me intently for a response.

"Why are you doing this to me, Beth?" I asked in an almost pleading, pathetic tone.

Beth's face turned to that all too familiar picture of rage as she grabbed both chair arms, lifted her torso off the seat and brought her shoe crashing into my chest, sending me hurling across the floor and leaving a dirty black stain on my fresh white shirt. The pain was coursing through my body again as she added, "I didn't tell you that you could ask questions," she screamed. "I just wanted to ensure your stupid, idiotic brain got my point, for fuck sake."

Realising this conversation was one-way traffic and was going nowhere from my perspective, I again nodded my head in consent. "What?" She screamed. "Yes, I understand and will try to meet your expectations." I offered dejectedly through the stabbing pain in my chest.

"Oh, and another thing, Footwipe. You will refer to me at all times from this point as Goddess unless among business company when you may call me Miss Constance, understand?" She announced triumphantly. "Yes," I replied.

"Ok, good. Before you go, I will have you wipe the mud off my black pumps with your face. I had to walk across the park on my way to work today, and they got all fucked up. You may only use your tongue to remove stubborn stains and any final morsels of filth that your miserable face cannot remove. Once complete, you can get the fuck out of my presence and await my next orders. Now get to work, Footwipe!" Beth laughed in my face non-stop as I leaned forward to clean up her shoes as ordered.Over the next 2-3 weeks, I tried my level best to give Beth a wide birth and avoid her if at all possible. I even swung a couple of sick days to avoid needing to go into the office, but I thought that would just run my career into the ground as a long-term approach. Despite my best efforts, she conspired to arrange several interactions to remind me of her intentions. To see through her commitment to my suffering and humiliation.

The first of those interactions was two days after our ground-floor meeting. Beth and I were sitting with Porsche and Grace in a presentation review, going through some slides in one of the smaller meeting rooms that could seat 4. Porsche was haughty, a typical stuck-up private school and Oxbridge graduate with the looks and intelligence to go with the family money. She had long, flowing, straight blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and a slender, defined face. She was at least 5'9" and had jaw-dropping legs that every man had to concentrate hard not to ogle. Grace was generally quiet, but when she spoke, it really counted. She arguably had the best brain in the business but not the management appetite to back it up and earn her the promotions she clearly deserved. She was super cute to go with that with her short mousey brown hair, dark brown doe-eyes and pensive lips, which she used to rest her teeth on when deep in thought. She was about 5' 5" tall.

The air conditioning was out in that meeting room, but the others didn't have a projector for the slide review. It was the end of the day, and most people had left the office except for a few super keen senior managers down the other end of the office. I was sat at the back of the table with Porsche and Grace flanking me on one side and Beth on the other. I was working the slides on the insistency of Beth, which I, of course, obeyed, leaving Beth, Porsche and Grace to have the lion's share of intellectual exchanges about the content. Given we had been in this room for close to 3 hours now, we were all sweating and getting increasingly irritable, knowing the deadline was first thing in the morning to have a final proof and print for the executive meeting.

To this point, I had become increasingly bored listening to their review thoughts but was afraid to interject so as not to antagonise Beth in front of the others. Eventually, following a somewhat long-winded passage of thoughts from Porsche, I lost my silent composure and leapt in with a few thoughts to improve the final draft. Immediately, Beth cast me a scathing stare. It must have been relatively frightening as Porsche and Grace stopped in their tracks, observing the mood change. Realising she had been seen, Beth regained her composure and continued calmly and collectedly.

"That really is a fucking stupid idea, Chris. After 3 hours sweating it out in this shitty meeting room, is that the best you can offer?"

Porsche and Grace looked at me stunned, waiting for my response. There wasn't one. I dropped my head and murmured.

"Sorry, Miss Constance".

Porsche and Grace let out a little giggle, seeing how pathetic I looked and how easily I had been put down.

"It's so bloody hot in here, and we still have a good hour left on this, guys," Beth added, "let's push on."

She then spun her chair slightly and propped her feet up on the table about 6 inches before my face, blocking my view of the slides. Astonished by the sheer bravado of such a move, Grace chimed in, trying to dissipate some of the embarrassment rising on my face.

"How will Chris see the slides with your feet before his face?"

"Well, given his last contribution, I don't think we will be losing any sleep over that lost opportunity, right ladies?" Beth snorted, and the girls all proceeded to laugh in unison.

"Anyway, we all need to contribute here, even you, Chris." Beth declared turning her attention back to me. "As you have nothing intellectually to add to this exercise, you can remove my shoes and rub my feet for me whilst we finish the review. At least that way, you will be adding something. Ok with you, Chris?"

Porsche and Grace fully expected me to walk out at that point, especially given how humiliating this would be and, more to the point, how nasty it would be to rub hot, sweaty feet barely 6 inches from my face. But they didn't know the more profound and disturbed truth. Their jaws dropped when my head stooped, and I uttered, "Of course, Miss Constance. Whatever I can do to help make the review a success".

"Great, that's what I," Beth added wryly. "Good to see you can be a good team player, Chris".

"In fact, come to think of it, Porsche and Grace don't want to be distracted by my hot, nasty feet filling up the room whilst we finish the review. They are literally dripping with sweat in these stockings, especially stuck in this room for goodness knows how long now," Beth said in a superior and self-assured way. "You will need to rub their feet at the same time so they don't get sidetracked by my stench".

Beth then looked back at Porsche and Grace, waiting for their response. Porsche's was immediate.

"Fucking A yeah. My feet are killing me, and the thought of getting them rubbed all over now is too good to pass up".

I was amazed that Porsche didn't even consider what I would feel like with all these hot, sweaty feet stuck in my face. She kicked off her black flats and propped her bare, sweaty feet before my face beside Beth's. Her feet were slender with long, delicate toes, a good size 9 to match her height. They also carried a strong, musty scent, showing that even pretty feet get nasty in flat shoes without socks when you sit in heat long enough.

Grace was much more hesitant.

"What's up, Grace? Don't want to take up Chris' offer?" Beth enquired.

At which point, I thought my offer? More like my fucking order!

"Well, "Grace added, "I forgot to bring my shoes and pantyhose to the gym this morning, so after I had finished, I had to put my dirty socks and trainers back on. They will stink so badly, and I already have a bad foot odour problem inherited from my mother".

"Wow, too much information, Grace," Porsche added. "Perhaps you are right to opt out."

Sensing her opportunity, Beth exclaimed, "Nonsense, I have just the thing!" and started shuffling around in her work bag. After around 10 seconds, she produced 3 pairs of swimming nose clips. "These will ensure we don't suffer from the smell and get distracted during our slide review".

I thought, who the hell keeps 3 pairs of nose clips in their bag unless they are a sadistic bitch who loves enslaving poor bastards like me to sniff rank feet?

Grace questioned, "But what about Chris? Won't he be the one most in need of a pair with all of our rank feet up in his face?" feeling somewhat embarrassed.

"Well, let's ask Chris, shall we?" Beth shifted her attention to me and whispered under her breath to remain out of range of the other women. "You are gonna fucking do this for us, Footwipe, whether you like it or not, or it's game over for you!" Before adding in a much more audible tone. "So Chris, are you prepared to take one for the team and rub our feet while we finish the review? It should be a pleasure for you to massage such pretty feet. I am sure you will be bragging all over the office tomorrow! In turn, we will add a credit to the final paper to show you contributed." She paused, and all three girls looked at me for a response. Beth held a scolding look of expectancy.

I knew at this point that I would have to overcome these humiliating compromises until I could plan a way out of my predicament. Otherwise, that video would be all over the office, and my job and house would be in the gutter. "Of course, Miss Constance. It would be a pleasure," I uttered reluctantly, summoning my best effort at a smile of appreciation.

Before I finished the words, all three pairs of feet were on the table, inches from my face. The girls had put their nose clips firmly in place and back, focusing on the slides, deep in intellectual exchanges.

"Get to it then, Footb...Chris" Beth swilled mid-sentence when my reluctance to start rubbing their stinky feet caused a delay in my order response time. "Get to your foot duties, team player."

She then laughed again and returned her focus to the slides.

Beth and Porsche's feet were pretty stinky, but both had clearly been washed that morning. Though bad, they were just about bearable with a full day of sweating in work shoes and 3 hours of intense meeting room heat. Grace's size 6 feet, however, were a different kettle of fish. Embarrassed by the raw smell of her feet, she had left her off-white athletic socks on, and you could clearly see the outline of her dainty feet in the dirty toe prints on the underside. Keeping her socks on did little to barrage the smell, however. Her feet were so nasty they were clearly itching her as every couple of minutes, she would rub them together in front of my face, releasing layer after layer of their revolting toxicity.

I did my best to rub those rank feet over that last hour, and Beth gleefully threw in the occasional humiliation to keep me focused. "Don't get too used to the smell, Chris, you won't have this pleasure every day". She smirked in her follow-up, stating, "At least you found your professional calling in life," and then laughed outright with her final insult.

"I think you are starting to enjoy stinky feet and socks a little too much, Chris. Is there something you aren't telling us?"

After around 45 minutes, I really needed to throw up and couldn't hold out any longer. The combination of heat and acrid stench in my face had really got to me. I asked Beth to be excused for a minute. Beth examined my evident discomfort and, not wanting sick all over the room, waved her hand at the door, allowing me to leave. I made the most of that break and took as much of the remaining time up to the hour to hold out on going back. When I finally returned, the ladies were wrapping up. Beth gave me a knowing look that said I am aware you just backed out, and for that, you will pay but didn't comment until she turned and declared.

"Ok, great job, everyone. The slides are finished, and we have done a great job. Drinks are on me. I know you can't come, Chris, as you have other plans."

I didn't, of course, but that was Beth's way of telling me I wasn't welcome.

"So why don't you just finish by kissing our feet and thanking us for including you in our review and giving you such an important role in making it happen?" The girls all erupted in laughter, clearly now acclimatised to a level of comfort with humiliating me.

I bent down and pecked Porsche's pretty slender toes and Beth's beautiful arches before reluctantly darting a near-miss kiss at Grace's rank socks to avoid a reoccurrence of the sickness her feet had subjected me to only 15 minutes prior. Grace looked offended, and Beth leapt upon seeing this and grabbed my hair. "Don't be so fucking disrespectful, Chris. Give Grace's feet a proper kiss of gratitude and apologise," she seethed.

Grace started to withdraw her feet. "It's ok, Beth."

Beth quickly followed up. "Absolutely not, Grace. You have been a star in this review, and we would never have gotten such a great result without you. All this idiot had to do was rub feet for an hour, and he couldn't even manage that. Get your face back in Grace's feet, take the biggest whiff you can muster, Chris, then kiss them and apologise."

Grace now seemed quite uncomfortable. "No, really, Beth. They are really foul. It's no problem." Beth lividly retorted, "There is no problem here, right Chris? You know what you must do".

Utterly despondent at my pending fate, I replied, "You are right, Be...Miss Constance," losing my thoughts and composure for a second and nearly saying her name.

"Grace, can I please apologise as Miss Constance has suggested?" My servile demeanour gave Grace renewed confidence and assertiveness as she pushed her disgusting socked feet back to within one inch of my face. "Very well, if you really insist. You may," she giggled.

As I stooped down to place my face close to Grace's feet, Beth grabbed my hair again and pushed my nose forcefully into the awaiting malodourous socks right between the toes.

"Now get your nose right in there and sniff for all you are worth. Stop being such a fucking wimp! You can forget that presentation credit!"

I took the best sniff I could muster just at the same time that Grace cupped her toes around my nose, and the revolting stench entering my nasal passage immediately brought back the sickness I had felt before. I quickly kissed Grace's foot and said, "Thank you, Grace. I am really sorry for my inconsiderate actions. Please forgive me."