Sisters of Sodom

Written by Embers © 2016-2017

This is dedicated to a special friend whose considerable input helped make this story possible—you know who you are.

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THE EDUCATION

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Four in a row. Guess I'm getting good at this

, Eudora thought as her eyes followed another flustered shopper out the door. She yawned loudly, then uncrossed her fishnet-stockinged legs and propped her feet on the counter.

"Uh, Eudora...I dunno if, uh..." she heard from the far end of the store, behind a massive shoe rack. It was a meek, nasal voice, one that she'd gotten into the habit of tuning out completely. She just rolled her eyes and examined her fingernails, concluding that they needed a touch-up.

She unzipped the breast pocket of her leather jacket and retrieved her trusty phial of black matte nail polish. But no sooner had she begun to unscrew the cap than that annoying little voice started up again.

"Hey, uh..."

In severe annoyance, she paused and shot a cold glance in its direction. From behind the rack emerged a shabby, sad-eyed little man. She'd been suffering him in these close quarters for several days, though his name still escaped her. In her view, "sad little man" was as good of a moniker as any for her coworker, and it sat at the edge of her mind as he dared to reopen his mouth.

"Uh, Eudora...hey, sorry, but, uh, I don't know if you're supposed to, uh..."

"What?" she replied agitatedly.

"Yeah, it's just...y'know. I dunno if it's okay to put your feet up...on there..."

"Oh, you don't

know

if it's okay? Cool. Let me know when you find out," Eudora spat back rapidly. The man's brow creased and his eyes dropped to the floor. She looked at him standing there dumbly, wondering what series of unfortunate events must have transpired to create such a pathetic human being.

She thought for a second, then momentarily adopted a slightly nicer tone. "By the way, sweetie? I'll probably be hungry in about an hour," she continued, abruptly flashing a flirtatious simper. "I'm feeling like sushi this time, okay? Get me one of those bento lunch specials from that place down the street."

Hearing that little seductively dulcet tinge in her voice, the man nodded slowly, a weak smile forming on his face. His small black eyes ventured back up to behold her. From the way he looked at her, she knew she had him wrapped around her finger.

It was all too easy. With those jailbait looks and killer curves, all she needed to do was simply

be.

"You're okay with paying for it again, right?" she asked in a cloying tone. "I'm low on cash this week..."

As expected, the man nodded obediently with only the smallest hint of reservation on his sallow face. He secretly doubted that she was telling the truth about her finances, given how truly unconcerned with getting fired she seemed to be, but he paid it no mind.

"Great. Now off you go," Eudora concluded with a dismissive wave of her hand, her expression dropping back into a frigid, deadpan stare.

The man blinked, then nodded again, mumbling some kind of apology, then shuffled off behind the big wooden column of women's footwear. Despite his mopey aura, Eudora considered that the man could be reasonably attractive if he weren't so devoid of any spark of confidence. Ultimately, though, it really didn't matter to her; a chump is a chump. There was no short supply of them in her life.

With a renewed sense of entitlement, she leaned over to hijack the stereo.

This lame Top 40 crap won't do

, she thought to herself. Plugging her phone into it, she cued up her favorite album by the Shit Stains. She grinned the minute the cacophonous, ugly punk rock blasted out of the store's speakers.

Eudora then blithely went back to the business of painting her nails. She scarcely noticed when a new customer came through the narrow doorway.

Another voice now interrupted her, this one sonorous and peppered with some kind of foreign accent. With a grumble, she lifted her head to survey the territory. There was an extremely tall, dark woman lingering about the aisles, aggressively interrogating the hapless coworker about the details of various shoes.

Eudora stared at her from afar a bit curiously, taking note of her obvious impatience. Finally the woman spun around and looked at Eudora. For the first time in memory, Eudora actually flinched upon making eye contact with another woman.

There was something truly menacing in this woman's dark unblinking eyes, and she moved with surprising quickness, marching up to Eudora's counter with the dramatic gait of someone who expected others to move aside. It only took two swooping steps to bring them face to face.

Or rather, face to bust. Up close, the woman towered high over Eudora. And there was also something slightly idiosyncratic about her style of dress. For one, her ensemble was spotlessly, concertedly bleach-white. A white trilby sat atop her ovate, apparently shaven head; a white bridal corset hugged her wiry torso; white leather pants hugged her long legs; a pair of white satin gloves extended to her elbows. Only her shoes—white Doc Martens—showed any sign of wear.

Although her face was devoid of makeup, raised scars dotted the edges of her cheeks in a deliberately ornate pattern, extending down to the pit of her neck. Despite this, her visage was uniquely beautiful, so much so that Eudora could not help but feel a rare prick of attraction.

Still, she wouldn't concede that so easily. Locking eyes with her, Eudora employed the same uninviting glare that had rid the store of the last few potential customers, thinking to herself,

let's see if I can make this five in a row...

"Turn this off," the woman demanded, unfazed. Her arm swung out, pointing to the stereo. Her tone oozed condescension, and immediately reminded Eudora of the bossy nuns at Catholic school that she despised so much growing up. This was all it took to stoke her hatred of this woman. The bratty young girl incorporated her best sneer and shook her head.

"I can't. Store policy. Keeps out riffraff," Eudora retorted, forcing a little bitchy grin despite feeling slightly intimidated. Before she knew it, her feet were slapped harshly off the countertop, sending her spinning off balance.

"Ow! What the fuck?!" she yelled as the stool underneath her lurched, then fell over. She hit the floor with a loud thump, landing on her side. The woman stood still over her, gloved hands lingering by the counter.

"Turn this off," the woman repeated, her deep onyx eyes following every movement of the girl's limbs, as if to anticipate any form of resistance.

"Huh? W-why should I care what you think, you weird circus bitch? I don't need this job anyway. I'm just killing time until I graduate, then I'm outta here!" Eudora barked, clearly shaken.

She scrambled to stand back up, but the woman pinned her wrist to the floor under her shoe. Eudora then screamed in outrage as she watched the woman snatch the offending phone up and throw it to the concrete floor, silencing it.

"W-what the fuck is your problem, you cunt?!" Eudora shrieked, seeing that her phone had been badly cracked, probably broken. But the woman merely applied pressure to Eudora's wrist, sending a spike of pain up her arm that caused her to cry out.

"Now perhaps you can tell me what I wanted to know, since your coworker seemed to be clueless. I am looking for new boots, you see. They must be steel-toed, pure alum-tanned

white

leather, much like the ones I'm wearing. But the problem is, your partner claims that the only comparable product you have in stock is some cheap naugahyde knockoff from Canada. Is this so?"

"I have no fuckin' idea! Get off me!" Eudora shouted. There was something unusual about how weak her body was becoming now. It almost felt like she had fallen ill; a headache had begun to swell behind her eyes, and her limbs felt strangely fatigued.

"No idea? I find this hard to believe, given that I've shopped here several times and always found what I want. The girl who used to work here was much more helpful than you, I must say. But maybe you just need some more motivation..."

Eudora's hand sizzled with increasing numbness as she struggled to remove it from under the woman's thick, grimy sole. She sensed that if she tried any sudden movement, the woman would have no compunction about causing real, lasting damage.

She could not tell exactly how such a slender woman was able to exert so much weight with just one leg, but she was truly scared now, and she found herself saying whatever she could to make the pain stop.

"Alright! Alright! There's an...I think I saw a pair of 10-eye white Docs in the stockroom...go get them!" Eudora yelled at her coworker, who by now was standing dumbstruck.

"Um, uh, I..." her coworker started, looking at the two women with cautious, bewildered eyes. "But...Eudora...those were put on layaway. That's why I didn't—"

"I don't give a fuck if the queen of England put them on layaway! Get the fucking shoes before this crazy bitch breaks my wrist!" Eudora shouted, fighting back tears as a dark purple bruise began to erupt across her flesh.

The man backed away slowly, then ran to the stock room, fumbling noisily about. By now, Eudora could no longer move her body, and the pain in her arm seemed to be extending slowly upwards, reaching her shoulder. She felt a drop of hot sweat quickly roll down her brow, making her black eyeliner bleed.

The only thing going through her mind right now was the hope that this was all a bad dream. Maybe she'd just fallen asleep at the counter by accident? Or was she having some kind of weird acid flashback? But the sensations were all too real to dismiss this way.

"Hmm. 37.5 percent," the woman said softly, her eyes scanning Eudora's crumpled figure. "That explains the kinky hair..."

"What?!" Eudora screamed in utter confusion as her headache took on hellish proportions. The woman did not respond. By this point, the man had reemerged from the back room with a shoebox in hand. "I-I'm sorry miss, these are a size 8..."

"Splendid," the woman replied, a broad toothy smile creeping onto her face. "That's my size. My, the fates have been smiling on me quite a bit lately." She snatched the box from the man's clammy hands, then directed her attention back to an utterly frozen, sweat-drenched Eudora.

"And you, little one," she started, "let's make good use of you..." she finally lifted her foot, and with that, Eudora felt some energy return to her. She twitched and jerked on the floor, struggling to regain control of her arms and legs.

She wanted to yell a torrent of insults at this smug and mysterious woman, sure, but now she found herself doubly intrigued by her as well. What strange power did she have? The young punk girl suddenly wanted to know, desperately, but when she opened her mouth, only a wheeze came out.

"Hush, no need to speak," the woman said, tilting her head slightly. "Now let's see..." she mumbled, lifting one gloved hand and touching her temple with her fingertips. "Yes. Interesting. I sense potential within you. You know, I

have

been searching for an assistant, actually. Perhaps with a little discipline, you could make a decent one. Let us give you a test."

She placed the shoebox next to Eudora on the floor, then prodded the girl's face with the tip of her shoe. "You. Change my shoes for me. Right foot first. I always try before I buy."

Eudora felt her voice suddenly return to her, as well as her agency, although her wrist still hurt intensely. Her first thought was to run, but a second thought quickly overtook her—and it was of this powerful woman's feet.

She could not understand this at all. Her

feet?

Why?

Up to now, Eudora had always been the one to control others with promises of the flesh, promises she rarely followed through with. She'd never before contemplated her own compulsions; outside of simple sadism, she hadn't yet considered she may have a thing for feet.

And yet as she looked at this woman's weatherbeaten boots, she found a wetness growing between her legs that could not be easily explained away. Even from this distance, she could catch a small whiff of their scent, a mixture of street grime, worn leather and the distinct odor of perspiration.

The smudges of dirt running along the welts told a story of a woman who had traveled many miles in these shoes. She could only imagine where they'd been, and whether they'd stepped on other girls such as her.

The thought drove her mad. Yet she could feel her coworker's beady eyes upon her, and hear his useless mumbling. She could never let him see her do this—or could she? There was no more time for her to think it over, as her hands instinctively flew to the woman's shoes, groping the ankles needfully.

She let out a loud gasp as her fingers quickly began to undo the tight laces. A pungent heat rose to her nostrils as the leather fell ever slacker. To her disgust, she could hear her coworker tremulously exhaling in apparent arousal. Hers was undoubtedly even stronger than his now, however, and her fingernails dug under the last few laces, tearing them off with purpose to reveal the bare tongue of the boots.

She grabbed the ankle again and pulled. The woman arched her foot, ballerina-like, allowing the heavy boot to slide off. The scent that suddenly attacked Eudora's nose immediately caused more wetness to pool at the crotch of her underwear.

For a second Eudora had the impulse to tuck her hand under her plaid miniskirt, to find that aching nib at the crest of her sex. But instead she followed an even stronger current, reaching out to bring the shoe to her face.

She placed the open foot-hole over her face and drew in a large breath, letting the strong, salty odor invade her senses. The enclosure did little to muffle her groans, and now she flushed at the realization that both her coworker and this odd woman could observe this seismic shift in her consciousness.

It embarrassed her deeply, but she was overcome with desire, and now she reverently placed the shoe aside and went for the woman's absolutely damp white sock. Its edges were yellowed with what must have been at least a full day's worth of unwashed sweat, and she gripped it by the hem, tugging it off and bringing it to her face.

At this point, she could not help but begin grunting, not just like an animal, but specifically like a pig, an instinct which seemed to come from without. It truly frightened her, but still, she could not stop.

The odor of the woman's sock was raw, closer to her true essence, with an almost acrid undertone. It seemed to perfectly reflect this woman's soul, a cruel and uncaring one, loaded with some form of power that Eudora never knew existed.

She blindly clasped now at the woman's bare foot, her hot exhalations beating down on a row of polished white toenails. She kissed each toe, lingering on the briny flavor each imparted, while above her soft laughter could be heard.

"Learning your place..." the woman said calmly as Eudora snorted and grumbled, running her tongue up and down the soft dark flesh of her perfectly-shaped arches. The woman grabbed a package of white socks off a nearby rack, tearing one free and throwing it before Eudora. "Now, place the new shoe on my foot. Respectfully. Obediently..."

"F...F-fuck you!" Eudora finally managed to mutter, the sock flying out of her mouth. But her words felt totally devoid of impact now. She was already so low. Nothing she said now could recoup her facade of confidence.

"Still need to learn some manners, but we'll work on that. I believe you'll be a satisfactory assistant yet, with a little more discipline..."

"Never, you crazy cunt! I swear I'll get you—" Eudora started, but then felt her headache spike suddenly, causing her to scream tormentedly. She flailed around, clasping her forehead and gritting her teeth.

With that, the pain just as quickly disappeared.

"Don't make this harder on yourself, child. You cannot learn to become strong unless your faulty construction is first demolished. From the rubble of your broken self, I will rebuild it anew, to my specifications. Stronger, better."

"What?!"

"This is fate, child. I am now certain of it. I dreamt last night that I would meet a new student..." the woman went on, folding her long arms under her perky bosom and sticking out her foot.

Eudora had no more resolve left in her, and she capitulated, picking up the new white sock and guiding it to the woman's foot. She then reached for the new boot. Its smell was so unlike the one she'd sampled before.

That factory-fresh scent that she used to love, she now hated. It was a blank page, and held no mysteries, no stories. The smell of a superior woman's foot was now what she understood was more than just a smell; it was an encoded message, speaking straight to her soul. Informing her of her place in the mortal hierarchy.

She removed the new shoe from the box and then began to place it on the woman's foot. Mascara-stained tears rolled from her eyes as she fit the shoe firmly, then dragged its laces through each of the tiny metal rings on either side of the flaps, fastening it to the woman's foot.

"Hmm," the dark woman in white uttered, stepping away to walk to the thin standing mirror leaning against the wall. "Yes. It looks good. Feels good."

Turning to Eudora's shocked coworker, she reached into her wallet, pulling out a thick wad of bills and throwing them at his face. "Keep the change," she said. She then looked back down at the trembling teenage girl.

"And you. Tell me. You are curious about me, yes?"

"Y-yes..." Eudora admitted, absolutely awestruck.

"I can show you many things, child. What is your name?"

"Eudora," the girl blurted, breathing raggedly. She already craved another taste of the woman's used footwear, and hoped dearly that she would simply leave it there with her, but the next words she heard let her know that there were grander plans in store for her.

"Yes. Eudora. That was the name of the girl in my dream. I knew it already, but I wanted to hear you say it, to make absolutely sure..."

"B-but how—"

"Shh, child. I know more about you than you may know. You will come with me."

They both momentarily looked over at Eudora's coworker, who, having no clue what he had witnessed, was now sitting idly with a bemused look on his face. His expression quickly sunk into something more goofily vacant.

He just stared into space. In fact, he seemed to be under some kind of spell; that distant, glassy look forming in his eyes indicated someone who was not entirely conscious.

Eudora wondered what this woman had done to him. The longer she stared, the more dummy-like he appeared, slouched over and barely blinking. It was as if his mind had been wiped clean. She didn't have time to linger on him, though. There was restlessness in the brightly-clad woman's eyes.

"But...who are you?" Eudora ventured to ask, her bright eyes blinking quickly.

"You shall address me as Mistress," the woman said slowly. "Mistress Makeda."

Eudora found herself crawling on her hands and knees over her broken phone. She silently approached the woman, her head craned high.

"Stand up," the woman instructed. Eudora did as told. Her limbs still felt rubbery, but she managed to stumble up to her feet.

Though the abyss of those black irises spoke to her of unspeakable transgressions yet to come, she could not resist the urge to nod her head in wondrous acceptance.

"Yes...Mistress Makeda..."

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5 YEARS LATER: AOKIGAHARA

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As Eudora reached the hill's summit, a frigid gale blasted her face. Immediately, the beads of sweat on her brow turned to icy pearls. Her fluffy raven hair whipped against her sly hazel eyes, causing her to squint as she scanned the area quickly.