The following is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to represent real people or events. It is completely written and owned by me, OfStarsAndDreams.
>>>> My erotic stories are generally written on behalf of others and do not necessarily reflect my own interests, fetishes, or personal history. <<<
F/f. Foot Fetish. Human toilet (F to f). Nonconsensual. Abduction/Kidnapping. Scat. Piss/Golden showers. Graphic descriptions of bodily functions. Body odor. Funky/unpleasant feet. Professional attire (on F). Collar/Chains/Straps (on f). Bondage. Imprisonment/Confinement. Humiliation/degradation. Psychological/emotional abuse. Teasing. Harassment. Insults. Fondling (nonconsensual). Sweat. Foot licking/sucking (f to F). Masturbation (F). Crying (f). Begging (f). Socks. Foot used as a penetrative device (F on f). Gag (in f). Anal sex (F on f, M on f). Strap on. Panties. Facesitting. Vaginal odors. Violation. Anonymous sex. Mouth prop. Ingestion of bodily excretions (f, nonconsensual). Breathing deprivation. Anal creampie. Pissing into anus (M to f).
Let's begin!
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Emma didn't exactly understand how she ended up where she was, but she was terrified of being there. Last she remembered she was out jogging, had been talking to another jogger she'd met, a really friendly woman. Emma tried to remember more. The woman had been in biking shorts, her hair back in a long, sleek, braid, had offered her a bottle of water. Emma wouldn't have taken it, but the bottle had been brand new, completely sealed.
She felt like a complete idiot.
She was in some sort of basement now, her hands bound to the wall but heavy metal chains affixed to her wrists by manacles. She'd try to free the chain from the bricks, where the chain disappeared into a strange hole in the wall, but it was no use. She was completely trapped. She shivered - but not just from fear. Someone had removed all her clothes, presumably when they drugged and brought her here. The room was cold, and the stone floor even colder. She could feel it seeping into her legs, her ass, even her pussy when she made the mistake of sitting the wrong way on the floor.
She had no idea how long she waited there, afraid she'd be killed by some horrible murderer, when the door to the room opened. It was the woman, the jogger, the one who gave her the bottle. She looked a lot different now, in a clean cut, high waisted pencil skirt that hugged her hips so tightly she could see the curve of her stomach into her legs. This was accompanied by a blouse and a short matching jacket that fell loosely over her trim, fit frame, falling off her breasts like a curtain. She didn't wear any hose or heels, instead opting for a pair of classy, heeled, fold over boots, perfectly maintained without a scuff on them.
Emma froze. She had no idea what this woman wanted with her.
"Why hello my darling new toy. Aren't you precious? I seldom manage to nab myself such lookers as you. Fantastic." The woman moved over to the wall next to the door, where there was some sort of wheel, a large valve with a handle, a fixture that had puzzled and worried Emma, but that had been well out of her reach. The woman started cranking the wheel, and Emma felt the chains holding her arms grow tighter, pulling on her wrists. Emma cried out in shock, but was powerless to stop her arms from being pulled back. This continued, despite Emma's desperate struggle, until she'd been pulled all the way back to the wall, forced with her arms splayed out into a sitting position. She was horrified to be put on display like this, and her thoughts immediately went to the worst possible scenarios. "Please, please let me go. I'll pay you. I'll give you everything I own. I beg you."