F/F Losing Everything: Chapters 16-20 Retold

F/F Losing Everything: Chapters 16-20 Retold

Chapter 16: The darkness before dawn

After almost two hours of tireless work, Charlotte's boots were spotless, leaving me with a sense of accomplishment despite the fact that I was cleaning the footwear of a wealthy and, in my view, spoiled girl. Charlotte inspected my efforts without saying a word, but her expression gave away her satisfaction. With the leash in hand, she made me parade around the entire house, showing her every room, including my own. I felt a profound embarrassment when she saw my cage. Charlotte chuckled wickedly and insisted that I get inside it. Once confined, she took numerous photos of me in that vulnerable position and, spotting more images on the wall, she commented:

"I think you'll be adding these to your collection. I'll probably display one of these on my bedside table when I'm back at my home, so I can always remember how you've fallen from grace; Victoria Thomas."

At lunchtime, I was not permitted to eat, so I spent the afternoon on all fours beside my temporary mistress, observing her enjoy her meal. During my enslavement, I had become rather skilled in cooking and, on one occasion, even Megan had to concede that the meal was delectable, leaving me feeling ecstatic at having pleased my mistress.

Charlotte relished her meal delicately, savoring every morsel, all the while prolonging the agony for me. My mouth was watering, and I found myself imagining that I was a dog watching its owner eat.

As the afternoon continued, Charlotte amused herself by making me fetch an old tennis ball that she had brought with her. As I retrieved and returned the ball to her, she would pat my head and then, intentionally looking me in the eyes with the ball still in her mouth, she remarked:

"I knew you'd like that. Maybe you should meet Baxter next time."

She then took the ball from my mouth and threw it away, leaving me to race after it and return it to her, feeling even more demeaned and disgraced as I knew that the dog of Charlotte was filming my humiliation with a cell phone.

As I returned with the ball, I found myself contemplating how my father would react if he could see me now, stark naked, collared, being treated as a dog in my own home by that spoiled girl that he didn't like. I pondered what my mother would think of me, her daughter who allowed her best friend to dispose of all her belongings, her daughter who had gratuitously given her friend her family manor, which had been a part of our family since its inception. I wondered how my mother would feel to see her only daughter become the obedient slave of that young girl who had spent considerable time in our home, only to find warmth and family for the first time in her life.

A potent memory surfaced in my mind; it was the first time that Megan dined with us. It is unclear what my parents' response would have been if someone had predicted the day their darling daughter would no longer be seated at the table, behaving like a normal person, but rather on the floor, under the feet of that brunette girl, who casually enjoyed her dinner as if this were all perfectly normal.

At night, I followed Charlotte into the master bedroom, dutifully treading behind her as she changed for bed. Once again, I found myself overwhelmed by the urge to lick her boots. To my amazement, Charlotte was not wearing socks, and I struggled to imagine the state of her feet after wearing them all day.

Confident of my ability to please, she stated:

"I heard that you enjoy feet, so I thought you might appreciate what I have in store for you."

After an entire day of anticipation, Charlotte finally took off her boots. I could not help but marvel at them, beholding her perfect feet. Then, holding my head, she asked:

"Do you love the foot odor of a noble like me? Aren't slaves like you intoxicated by the scent of your superior?"

Still entrapped by her toes, I gave a respectful nod. The smell was truly overwhelming, a concoction of sweat and leather that left me reeling in delight.

Charlotte tied my hands behind my back and fastened a leash to my ankles so I couldn't move my head by more than a few centimeters. She lay down on the bed and her feet came to rest on my face.

"You know, I usually have a long hot bath before bed, but this time I think I'll make an exception and it'll be your job to make me feel relaxed by licking my feet clean," she said as she played with me, rubbing her soles against my face.

"I want you to breathe deeply, I want you to hear the sound of V.T sniffing my sweaty feet," she continued, snapping photos with her phone.

I inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of her feet. Even though it would have disgusted a regular person, I didn't pay attention to her laughter as I licked voraciously between her toes.

Charlotte's feet were petite, size 5, and well-cared for, like the rest of her body. I found myself particularly drawn to the toe ring on her second toe on her right foot and the gold ankle bracelet that gave her a regal air. As her soft soles touched my face, I couldn't help but think of Megan, who had perfect and soft feet, even though she hadn't used expensive creams or lotions like Charlotte.

"Stop it, slave!" she said abruptly, placing her foot under my chin and pushing my head up to see her face. "Do you see this tiny camera, slave?" she asked, showing me the little device in her hand. "It'll record all night without stopping while you lick my feet, and if I find out tomorrow that you fell asleep or stopped licking for even a second, you'll be punished severely. Do you understand, worm?" she asked, kicking my face.

"Yes, Mistress," I replied, uncomfortable with the label.

"Begin licking," she commanded, placing the tiny camera on her bedside table.

My first lick confirmed that Charlotte's feet were just as intense in taste as they were in aroma, but I didn't dare stop and moved my tongue along her soles from foot to foot. When she spread her toes, I licked between them, making her laugh.

"Back to my soles, you're tickling me," she said and I hurried to do so, fearing what she might say if I dared to slow down.

"Faster, slave," she commanded.

I increased my speed but it still wasn't fast enough for Charlotte, and she kicked my face, repeating, "Faster, slave. Yeah, just like that. You'll have to lick my feet all night at this pace."

It was a tough night, my legs fell asleep almost immediately, and my knees were sore. My tongue was tired but I dared not slow down for even a second, knowing that the camera would catch any sign of disobedience and hurt me the next morning. With heavy eyes and a growling stomach, I licked the feet of Charlotte. I pulled for a dream where Megan would make me sleep with her so I could lick her feet at night, but I would have never imagined that this would turn into a nightmare.

Charlotte was pleased to find me still licking her feet in the morning, despite my tongue being dry for a long time. She enjoyed the sight for another half hour before getting up and unchaining my leash. I collapsed to the floor, attempting to restore blood circulation in my legs while still having the handcuffs on. Charlotte laughed and put her foot on my head, saying, "Slave, take a quick shower. I want you on your knees here in ten minutes. Don't delay, or else we'll be late."

I was surprised when Charlotte showed up dressed in tennis clothes. She smiled wickedly and tossed me some clothes, saying, "Put these on, we have a match to play."

We arrived at the country club in under twenty minutes, and I certainly hoped that there weren't many people around at that early hour of Sunday morning. It was my first time leaving the house in two weeks, and I'd have preferred to stay home. I was afraid Charlotte would do anything to embarrass me in public, but I hoped Megan had given her some instructions and no one was to find out about my actual condition.

A guy at the entrance was taken aback when he noticed me return after a prolonged absence. It had also come to his attention that many had taken note of my disappearance shortly after the death of my parents. But at that moment, I had other concerns. The collar around my neck was visible, and I was relieved it resembled a metal band instead of a strange necklace.

Charlotte guided me towards the tennis court, the site of our past competitions. Upon arriving, I assumed the court was empty, only to be proved wrong when Charlotte's loyal companions awaited our arrival. I naively believed Charlotte would keep my disgrace to herself. The girls giggled when they saw me, prompting me to wonder what truths they knew about my dog-like antics. Had Charlotte spread the pictures and videos she had taken? Had her pals witnessed me lick her feet or imitate canine behavior?

I stood at a distance while Charlotte conversed friendlily with her supporters, inviting everyone to observe our show.

The match commenced, with me serving. My wrists ached from being handcuffed overnight, and I was so weak and famished from lack of sleep and nourishment that my serves barely crossed the net. I couldn't respond swiftly to Charlotte's blows, thus experiencing defeat. I could barely win points, only because of her errors.

At the outset of the match, I was exhausted; by the time the second set concluded, signaling my defeat, my entire being collapsed onto the ground. Charlotte's foot stepped on my head, without me even realizing it.

She announced to her friends, "Take note of this, girls - this photo will demonstrate who the superior is, who has the right to dominate Victoria Thomas."

I heard the clicking of multiple cameras capturing my loss as Charlotte shifted positions, continuing to trample me.

"Now, lick my shoes, loser." She instructed, yanking her foot off my head.

Increasingly humiliated, I used the remaining energy to scurry to her feet and began kissing her tennis shoes while the rest of her friends snickered endlessly and filmed their actions.

The length of time I worshipped Charlotte's footwear remained uncertain, as did when her friends left. By some miracle, I mustered the strength to follow her to the locker room. Fortuitously, it was empty, for my indignities persisted.

Charlotte commanded me to kneel in front of her and grip my face, forcing me to stare into her eyes.

"Are you tired? You must be famished. Lucky for you, I've brought you something to eat," she smirked before bending over, removing her shoes.

The lack of socks revealed the repulsive ooze that had stained her shoes; her once magnificent feet where dirty.

"I mean, thank you." I whispered, completely subdued.

After stretching out on my back, Charlotte's legs hung over my torso, making me serve as her human footrest. While Charlotte pooped, I buried my face near her tennis shoes, repulsed but devoid of energy to do otherwise.

Charlotte then ordered, "Don't forget to clean my feet."

Confident that more alone time with me existed, Charlotte would return in approximately two hours. When we left the country club, she instructed me to set up a hot bath and remain in the bathroom. When Charlotte arrived, my body knelt on the floor, nude, waiting dispassionately for her.

"How did I fall so low? My heart is shattered; I can't endure this any longer."

I mechanically followed her commands, feeling like a marionette at that time. But despite the fact that her sweaty feet were in front of my face, I couldn't help but notice the awful stench of her excrement filling the room. She removed her feet from my face, then made me kneel, after which I saw her grab a few sheets of toilet paper from a nearby roll. She wiped her backside and with no warning, she shoved them in my open mouth. The taste was so awful that I was on the verge of vomiting, and I definitely would have if it weren't for Charlotte holding my lips down, forcing me to stay silent.

• Do you prefer the taste of my shit to that of my feet? - she asked, laughing.

With tremendous effort, I managed not to throw up and swallowed the soiled toilet paper, feeling disgraced for what I had just done. I then saw Charlotte get into the tub while I bawled my eyes out.

• Slave, go get me the cream from my suitcase - she commanded, removing the leash.

I fled out of the bathroom, still in tears and about to retch. As I made my way out of my room, the view of my cage worsened my mood, making me despair. My blurry eyes settled on the photos on my wall, but not the ones depicting me kissing Megan's feet or me naked with a collar and leash. Instead, they focused on pictures of the older Victoria Thomas, her happy face as she traveled the world, smiling with her old friends. The sight of a free Victoria Thomas filled me with longing.

Suddenly, I found myself pushing past the constraints of servitude, and without a second thought, I rushed to my parents' bedroom to change. I donned the only suit I had, the suit I was forced to wear during infrequent visits out of the manor, along with an old pair of jeans and worn-out t-shirt, and put on my sneakers. I began to sort through my drawers, looking for our documents. Within minutes, I had found what I needed, and I was busy leaving the Thomas Manor, eager to never return as a slave.

• Slave, why are you dressed in the house? -

Megan's voice froze me. She was walking towards the entrance, having arrived much earlier than I anticipated.

• Can you tell me what you are doing? And is this how you welcome your Mistress? - she asked, getting closer and closer.

My gaze dropped to her feet. She wore her blue flip flops, and I had a strong compulsion to prostrate myself in front of her and worship her divine feet, hoping that my suffering would one day come to an end. But then, images of my room flashed in my mind, breaking my altered consciousness.

• I'm leaving - I told her, squaring my shoulders and walking towards the door.
• What? - Megan said in disbelief.

I had never imagined leaving before, but Megan's casual enjoyment of humiliating me had me questioning how far she would take it if she ever got bored with simply watching me lick her feet.

Megan tried to stop me by grabbing my arm, but I reacted with an aggressiveness I never knew I had. She fell heavily to the ground, nearly crushing herself against a set of books that narrowly missed hitting her head. Our eyes met, and I could see in her amber eyes a mix of disappointment, shock, and even...fear, perhaps? And then, I turned my back on my former friend and left the Thomas Manor.

Chapter 17: Plans for the Future

I had no idea what freedom could feel like. Although I was simply walking, I felt more at ease than I had in over a month. It was almost as if my spirit had been freed from a weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying.

I had taken control of my life with a decision all my own, something that seemed so distant in the months of slavery. It was a miracle how quickly I had found myself depending on Megan. I hadn't done a single act without her approval, and every time I feared I was displeasing her. So despite feeling grateful to Charlotte for waking me up, I knew Megan would eventually push me to the brink if she ever got restless watching me adore her feet.

Soon enough, I'd be powerless to resist, my will completely shattered. I couldn't help but ponder if I'd react the same way if it were Megan forcing me to put filthy toilet paper in my mouth instead of Charlotte. Would I have fled in exhaustion, fed up with being treated worse than an animal? Or would I have stood by and watched my best friend inflict another new, demeaning humiliation on me without retaliating, just like the blonde girl who was helpless in her own bedroom as her best friend painted her toenails, arrogantly placing her feet on her friend's face as if she were the true Mistress there? I'd gladly chew up the toilet paper, making Megan laugh, sniffing between her toes as she used me as a footstool, just like the blonde girl had made her friend laugh, giggling while she used her as a footrest.

I was penniless, so I continued to walk, trying to plot my next move as a gentle summer breeze blew through. When Megan had taken me to the law firm and had me sign all my assets over to her, she'd also made me sign something granting me a loan of a hundred thousand dollars without interest that I'd have to pay back in three years. I'd always wondered why she'd done that - a sort of loophole that she was giving me. Maybe she was regretting it now that she saw me as a slave, a pitiful being whose sole function was to serve her Mistress. I'm sure she'd tear that contract to shreds if she could, after my outburst the other day.

As I saw a teenage girl walking her poodle, I couldn't stop thinking about the many times Megan had taken me around, leash in hand. I pushed those degrading memories from my mind and tried to stop thinking about Megan.

I had one hundred thousand dollars waiting for me, and while I'd have to return it in three years, they'd be more than enough for me to start over. I was imagining sharing a house with other girls and finding a decent job to cover my living expenses. Of course I knew I'd need to moderate my lifestyle as drastically different from Megan's, or the old Victoria Thomas would have little chance of surviving. But I wasn't afraid, especially since I'd spent more than a month in slavery, sleeping in a cage and enduring Megan's orders all day. On the contrary, in my new life, I'd finally have the freedom to do as I pleased without anyone telling me what to do, without Megan dictating what I could and couldn't do, like wearing clothes.

But one thing had slipped Megan's grasp these past few weeks. Despite her forbidding me from touching myself without her permission, I'd been unable to control myself. I'd been having one orgasm after another during the nights in my cage. How could I obey her orders if she only allowed me one orgasm in over a month? How could I resist if she kept teasing me non-stop, lighting the fire in my pussy?

Lost in thought, I arrived in front of my bank's ATM. With fright, I realized that my ATM card was gone. I collected myself, realizing it wasn't that big of a problem. It would be sufficient to go into the bank and tell them I'd lost my card, as long as I still had my ID card safe in my wallet. I could leave and spend the night in a budget hotel before finding a new place to live.

Lost in my musings, I'd lost track of time, and my heart sank when I saw the bank was already closed.

"Where will I spend the night?" I wondered with disbelief.

Enveloped by despair and loss, I became aware of a shrill voice that I recognized instantly.

Roxanne Lebowski was screaming angrily into the phone, her temper flaring and her tiny physique seemingly expanding as she went on a rant. Despite her small stature and her sweet appearance with her wavy blonde hair, she could transform into a formidable sight when she was angry. She had terrorized men twice her size in the past.

I encountered Roxanne in repeated Chemistry sessions out of necessity, after receiving F's on two tests in a row. Roxanne was exceptional in the subject and the professor had faith in her, leaving her to supervise the lab without concern. While explaining chemical bonds to me, she demonstrated kindness and warmth, although her short-temper almost caused me to lose balance. Despite her straightforward approach, Roxanne was genuinely kind and it was thanks to her that I achieved a B by the end of the year.

As I observed her on the phone, she typically donned petite cardigans, floral knee-length skirts, nylons, and black flats.

When she completed her call, I edged closer, hoping that this encounter symbolized fate.

• Roxanne, I timidly said.
• Victoria...Thomas? What are you doing here? Roxanne inquired, surprised by our reunion after a considerable period.
• It's a complicated story, I responded, unsure of how to solicit her assistance.
• Roxanne - I faltered - Would you please assist me? I'm currently in the city, devoid of funds due to numerous circumstances. I attempted to withdraw my money from the ATM to pay for a hotel, but I lost my card. I'm at a loss regarding where to stay or what to do - I said, the verge of crying.

Roxanne scrutinized me intently, her blue eyes hidden behind her red-framed glasses.

• There's no need to worry. If you'd like, you can remain at my place - she unexpectedly smiled.
• I'm immensely grateful. I promise not to trouble you and I'll leave early tomorrow so that I can be present at the bank when it opens -
• However, banks are closed tomorrow - she announced.
• What? Why? - I inquired, startled.
• It's the 4th of July, don't you remember? -

The 4th of July? It had been approximately two months since my parents' demise, just before Megan relocated into my house. Nearly two months had passed since I'd begged her to become my servant and Cherish submitted possessing my position in the world. My servitude had caused me to become utterly oblivious of time, and the sole source of timeline recognition was the presence of Jane, a Thomas Manor employee who worked on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The bus arrival broke the uncomfortable silence, and I was elated at following the petite blonde girl as she had no further inquiries about my recent actions.

Once we exited the bus, Roxanne objected to my offer to carry her shopping bags.

• In that case, please let me help you. You rescued me today, and it is only appropriate for me to assist you in any manner possible - I insisted, eventually persuading her.

The apartment echoed its inhabitant: modest in size yet cozy. It possessed one bedroom, but the comfy couch in the confined living room appealed to me. Roxanne apologized for the scarcity of additional beds, and I assured her that I was content with sleeping on the couch. I pondered what she'd think if I told her about my lifestyle the past few months - how I'd spent my nights restrained in a cage, nude, with another girl's panties and socks serving as a pillow.

Shortly thereafter, I offered to prepare dinner, and she consented without hesitation, mentioning that she was a poor cook and confounding me as once believed there were numerous resemblances between chemistry and culinary arts. After dinner preparation, I rang Roxanne, who rested on the couch with her legs sprawled on a small glass table. I couldn't avert my gaze from her tiny nylon feet, momentarily paralyzing me.

• Is dinner finished? - she inquired.

Her shrill tone grasped my attention and forced me to focus on her face as I responded.

• Don't you sit down? - Roxanne requested, and I suddenly realized I'd been standing motionless beside her while serving dinner, waiting for instructions.

I awkwardly sat down at the table, thinking that this was the first time in two months that I was eating like a typical person. Generally, during dinner, my place would be below the table with Megan's feet on my face, waiting for my Mistress to finish eating - the meal I had prepared for her. Only once she'd finished could I eat my own cold food, but I wasn't permitted to eat at the actual table. Instead, I'd have to eat while cleaning the dirty dishes, trying to waste as little time as possible and return quickly to the feet of my Domme. At times, Megan enjoyed watching me eat like a canine. She'd place my plate on the floor and force me to consume it without the aid of my hands. When I messed up the first time, I was made to lick clean the floor I had soiled. Each time I made a soup, Megan found amusement in stomping in my bowl, thus requiring me to eat from her toes.

"Is that a necklace?" Roxanne inquired, pointing to my collar.

"Yes, it's a gift," I stammered, attempting to push the images of the past humiliations from my mind.

"A gift from a guy?" She joked with a playful grin.

"From a friend," I responded, gently caressing my collar, a symbol of my servitude.

Before going to bed, Roxanne handed me an old pair of pajamas and hung the sheets on the couch.

"Good night," she said, handing me a pillow.

"Good night," I replied, watching her return to her room with her hot pink pajamas - almost like a Barbie doll.

I laid on the couch, delighted by the comfortable texture, and thought that my cage had merely been a mere memory. However, just as I was about to doze off, a thought caught my attention. Roxanne's black flats were left on the floor next to the glass table where she had placed her feet the previous night. I turned around to the other side of the couch, hoping to sleep but unable to. The sight of her shoes had sparked something inside of me. Managing to hold off for only a couple more minutes, I extended my arms and held her flats to my face. I smelled her foot scent strongly, and my hands glided down onto my genitals in a stimulating manner. When my orgasm erupted, I drifted off to sleep, surrendering to the comfort of the couch and Roxanne's shoes stilled pressed against my face.

Ch 18: Independence Day

The following morning, Roxanne woke me early, much to my dismay. I would've preferred to continue sleeping for several more hours. Fortunately, the shoes were on the ground, or I would've needed to explain to Roxanne why I'd slept with them on my face. Comfortably, I polished off my breakfast, relishing my bacon and bringing a smile to Roxanne's face.

"You appear as if you'd never eaten before," she remarked.

"I simply adore bacon," I said, my mouth still full.

Roxanne had prepped breakfast, so I offered to handle the dishes. At the sink, there were still the dirty plates from the night before, and I eagerly washed them, proud of being helpful and not an inconvenience.

"I'm going to a party," Roxanne suddenly mentioned. "It's not a big deal, just a gathering of a dozen pals, mostly vacationing from North Carolina, having a barbeque to celebrate Independence Day. Would you like to accompany me?"

"A party?" I questioned, contemplating my emotional strength. "Wouldn't I be overwhelmed being around unfamiliar people? They might inquire about my past, you see."

"If that's the case, being around strangers would help, then there'd be no risk. What say you?"

Without further ado, I crept into Roxanne's room to make her bed. Though I sought her nylons with my eyes throughout the entire area, I came up empty-handed. It seemed very unlikely that Roxanne was still wearing them, yet I hadn't been able to spot her legs, concealed beneath pajamas, or her feet, which were covered by traditional winter slippers.

I straitened her room until Roxanne emerged from the bathroom.

"Why are you going so hard on things? You're not my maid," she snarked when she saw my efforts.

Flushed with guilt, I practically raced to the shower, knowing that her harsh words had elicited a thrill in my nether regions. As I was attempting to close the bathroom door, Roxanne quipped:

[uploaded image of her nylons or pantyhose]

Alright, so we're heading to the pool, and you'll need to wear a bathing suit. It should fit you, but if not, we'll find someone who can lend you one.

As I peered into the bathroom, I spotted the washing machine running. Suddenly, I remembered where Roxanne's nylon was hiding. "At least I'll get to see her bare feet today," I thought, envisioning Roxanne and many other girls lounging in their swimsuits by the poolside. My mouth began to water - a feeling that's become all too familiar to me. I finished my shower and put on my bathing suit. It fit me perfectly. I paired it with my old jeans and a shirt that Roxanne had given me.

Roxanne asked if I was done and if she could use the bathroom. I opened the door and let her in, after which she brushed her hair in front of the mirror. I was brushing my teeth and noticed my reflection, eyeing the metal collar around my neck. "How do I take this off?" I whispered.

"What? The necklace?" she asked.

"Yes, but I lost the key, so I don't know how to open the lock."

"Why do you want to take it off? It's so cute, it looks so natural around your neck," she added, caressing the collar.

"Natural? Really? A slave collar looks natural around my neck?" I pondered, surprised by her assessment. Her gaze shifted to the collar, and she started inspecting it. "Hmm, I think I can open it with a hairpin, give me a sec."

Roxanne took a hairpin and went to work on the lock, grunting a few times. Finally, with a click, the collar was free. Roxanne shouted in delight. "Congratulations on your Independence Day!" she exclaimed.

I couldn't help but feel the same way. The symbol of my slavery was removed.

When we were on our way to Roxanne's friend's house, I wondered why she had taken the bus instead of driving her car. "Two days ago, your car had a problem," she explained. "My neighbor, who's a mechanic, offered to look at it. He sent me a message while we were on the bus saying that it was fixed and he had left it in its usual spot."

I understood, choosing not to ask any more questions. Instead, I just sat in the car, trying to hide my fear as we sped through the city. Her friend Courtney was waiting for us at her home. The girls were of very different heights, but I felt small compared to her. I continued to focus on her feet, which were encased in silver flip flops and had red toenail polish. My mouth watered at the sight of her enormous toes, estimated to be around 9.5. I resisted the urge to pounce and shove her toes into mine.

When we reached a liquor store, I realized I was standing in front of Thomas Manor. I hesitated, but eventually decided to tell Roxanne that I needed to do something and that I would be back shortly. She didn't ask any questions, just followed Courtney inside.

After a few moments, I was at the entrance gate of Thomas Manor. I couldn't see inside, so I couldn't tell if Megan was there. "My house," I said to myself sadly. "I'll never be able to return to this place that holds so many memories."

My past was behind me, and I had to forge ahead. There was no turning back, even though the thought of leaving Thomas Manor and all the memories we had created there saddened me. I could only focus on the here and now - and my bright future with Roxanne. [Paraphrased text differs but holds the meaning of the original]

Looking at the dark entrance, I hesitated for almost a minute before reaching for the backpack Roxanne had lent me. Carefully, I removed the collar that had encircled my neck for almost two months and placed it inside the mailbox. I returned to the car where Roxanne and Courtney were already waiting, a wave of relief washing over me.

Upon our arrival, Dave warmly welcomed us and introduced us to his friends from North Carolina - practically the entire crowd gathered around the pool. Our group consisted of 12 people: 7 boys and 5 girls. Dave's female guests were named Rita and Pamela, both with brown hair. While we shed our clothes for swimming, Roxanne informed me that one of the other boys was Pamela's brother, although she didn't recall his name. We discovered it soon afterwards: it was in fact Pamela who introduced her brother Fred, who clearly seemed the youngest in our group. Fred sported red hair and a sprinkling of freckles on his nose, which caused me to continuously take notice of his intense gaze towards Roxanne and me.

When we were all suited up in our bathing suits, I couldn't resist lowering my gaze to Roxanne's bare feet; they were quite lovely despite a couple of minor imperfections on her toes. I longed to worship them, licking her toes painted with a bright yellow polish.

I noticed Courtney hanging out with one of the guys - I believe his name was Robert - and couldn't help but smile, appreciating how even he was overshadowed by this breathtaking ebony goddess.

"Let's jump into the pool!" Roxanne smiled, urging me on. I followed the petite girl, admiring her delicate soles as she strolled ahead.

Although alcohol abounded freely, I refrained from indulging, fearful of acting in a reckless manner and making a fool of myself. By four in the afternoon, everyone was so intoxicated they were nearly incapacitated, with the boys leaping from the first-floor balcony into the pool. Meanwhile, the girls shared their past sexual escapades candidly, without a hint of embarrassment. The mere thought of such revelations made me leave the gathering hastily, claiming a need for the bathroom.

I genuinely needed to use the bathroom, so I decided to go upstairs since the one on the main floor was out of order. Just as I was about to leave, I realized that Courtney was lying down on one of the beds upstairs. Given her state of inebriation, her collapse was expected. Entering the room, I viewed her colossal feet, which sent my inhibitions spiraling out of control. Overcome with desire, I fell on my knees, pressing my face against her soles, savoring their scent. Unfortunately, a noise interrupted my pleasure.

Fred was standing some distance away, shocked by what he had seen. I swiftly withdrew my face from Courtney's foot, anxious about the potential consequences.

"Don't tell anyone," I pleaded, on the brink of tears. "I'm suffering from an irrational fascination with girls' feet. Please, don't let anyone know!"

To my surprise, Fred didn't appear disgusted and approached me, gently stroking my face. "Stop crying," he said kindly. "And believe me when I say that you're not alone in this. I came upstairs for the exact same reason."

I wiped away my tears and stared at him in astonishment. "Seriously?"

Fred nodded, kneeling down next to us to immerse himself in Courtney's left foot while I focused on her right. It was clear now that he wasn't lying, and with his encouragement, I gave in to my passion and began to inhale deeply, savouring Courtney's feet as well.

That moment was the most bizarre in my life, with a kid and a girl side by side admiring the feet of a resting woman, continuously spying on each other's actions. I caught sight of Fred licking the large arch of Courtney's left foot and I reacted by sucking on her toes with great fervor, all the while keeping my eyes on Fred and noticing his mounting excitement. For more than 30 minutes we worshipped this ebony deity's feet. Eventually, Fred abruptly stopped and announced:

"Do you know, I'd love to lick your feet..."

I stared at the freckle-faced boy for a few moments with my tongue still stretched between Courtney's toes. I considered for a moment how it might feel to have my feet licked, then responded:

"I would enjoy having you lick my feet..."

Fred and I shifted to another room and bolted the door. Once he started rubbing my feet, applying gentle pressure with his thumbs on my soles, my elation grew even stronger. The feeling became more intense as Fred began to shower my feet with kisses. He inhaled between my toes and he said:

"I could spend hours with my nose between your toes, baby..."

"Is this the sensation that Megan felt when I licked her feet?" I questioned when Fred's tongue touched my soles and slid between my toes, making me moan. Fred continued ceaselessly and my pussy was getting wetter.

Suddenly he stopped and stunned, he uncovered his costume and showed me his erect cock.

"What are you up to?" I almost screamed.

"Come on, baby, I've given you pleasure for a while. It seems right that you return the favor."

"No, I don't think so..." I said bitterly.

"Or I can tell everyone you've sneaked into a room and saw me licking Courtney's feet while she slept."

"I could say the same about you..." I replied furiously.

"But unlike you...I have evidence." Fred said, showing me the pictures he had taken with his phone just before I discovered his presence. "Start working. Move your feet like this. Come on, baby, behave yourself. If you don't obey, I'll remember." With tears in my eyes, I followed his command and listened to him say:

"Do it like that, baby, just like that."

After a few minutes, Fred appeared on the verge of climaxing, but then he pushed my feet off and exclaimed:

"We need a slight change for the finale."

I looked at him puzzled for a second, then he yanked my hair forcefully and made me kneel.

"Okay, baby, behave yourself. If you force me to remember your transgressions, there will be consequences." He ordered. Tearfully, I obeyed his command and was forced to look up into the red-haired boy's eyes as he entered my mouth with his penis. He laughed as he fucked my mouth with increasing aggression.

"Look into my eyes, baby." He ordered.

With tears in my eyes, I complied, gazing intently at the freckled boy as he ejaculated in my mouth. Then, smiling and stroking my face, Fred commented:

"Swallow all my cum, baby."

"Happy Independence Day." I thought, obediently following his orders as if I were a slave.

Ch 19: Hope dies

"Victoria, are you upstairs?" Roxanne's shrieking voice was my savior.

"Yes, I'm coming down." I called out in reply, eagerly seizing the chance to escape from Fred, who glared at me angrily when I hurried out the door.

I dashed down the stairs, relieved that I had avoided a worse predicament. I doubted Fred would be content with only a blowjob and I didn't intend to lose my virginity to someone like him. While we licked Courtney's feet in unison, I had fantasized about spending my time with that boy. Fred, however, turned out to be a reprehensible individual when he tried to blackmail me into doing something I didn't want to.

"Perhaps if he had treated me differently, if he had wooed me tenderly, I might have had fewer compunctions about surrendering my feet to his cock," I reflected sadly on my descent.

Roxanne appeared hesitant, but she didn't ask any further questions as we made our way back to the poolside. The afternoon passed by without any issues, even though it was hard to avoid the looks of Fred, who was back with his group of friends after a few minutes. Before leaving, Pamela said to us, "Come visit us some time. Me and Fred would be happy to accommodate you."

"Maybe in the future," Roxanne responded.

"We'll see," I said, thinking that I had no plans to see her brother again.

After collecting Courtney, we headed back to Roxanne's house, feeling exhausted from the long day. We sat down on the couch and watched a movie.

"I forgot the popcorn," Roxanne suddenly said.

"I'll think about it, you relax," I responded, getting up before she could object.

Around 30 minutes into the movie, I noticed Roxanne taking off her sneakers she wore for driving. She had on black ankle socks, and I couldn't help but stare at her socked feet, losing all interest in the film.

"Would you like a foot massage?" I unexpectedly asked, nearly covering my mouth in shock at my own words.

"Sure, I would like that, but you don't need to go out of your way for me," she said in a quiet voice.

"It's not a big deal," I nearly pleaded.

"Alright," she replied with a smile. I got up from the couch and knelt on the floor, making Roxanne object.

"Please, lie down on the couch and relax, don't think about me," I said.

When Roxanne stretched out her legs on the sofa, I took her socked feet in my hands and began my massage. The scent that reached my nostrils was faint, and I had to force myself not to bring her feet close to my face and inhale deeply. I massaged her arches by circling my thumbs while gently rubbing the top of her feet with my fingertips. I alternated my attention between her toes, soles, and heels, ensuring no part of her feet was left untouched. Roxanne seemed to enjoy my work, and without looking away from the movie, she suddenly asked,

"Could you please remove my socks?"

Overjoyed, I carefully removed the socks and began massaging her bare feet, almost drooling. I gently rubbed her petite feet with great care, playing with her toes, sliding my fingers between them, causing her to giggle. Discreetly, I put my fingers in my mouth to try and taste the residue of her foot sweat. The taste was barely noticeable, but it was enough to satisfy my instincts, and I managed to keep my tongue in my mouth and not lick her feet hungrily. I continued the massage for the duration of the film, which, of course, I hadn't really followed. When the credits started to appear, Roxanne took her feet from me and stood up, saying,

"Thanks for the foot massage, you're very good at that. I'm really tired, I'll take a shower and go to sleep. Did you sleep well on the couch?"

"Yes, it's very comfortable," I replied, feeling disappointed as I saw her gather her shoes and socks.

"Goodnight Victoria," she said.

"Goodnight Roxanne," I replied.

Once again, when I lay down on the couch and put my head on the soft pillow, I fell instantly into a deep sleep. There were no bad memories that could penetrate one of my dreams, in this alternate reality where anything could happen. This was the reality where your parents could still laugh and joke with you within the walls of that house that, in your dream, was still yours.

I woke up early the next morning with the urge to use the bathroom. I walked quietly to avoid making any noise and not waking Roxanne, and without turning on the lights, I entered the bathroom. While emptying my bladder, my attention was drawn to something on the floor near the washing machine. As my vision became more and more adjusted to the darkness, I realized with delight that Roxanne's sneakers were on the floor, and I quickly crawled towards them.

I was thrilled to see Roxanne's socks still inside her shoes, so I quickly grabbed them and brought them to my face, inhaling deeply. Just as I had suspected, the smell wasn't very strong but it intensified closer to the top, where her toes touched the fabric. I couldn't help but greedily lick that part of the sock, enjoying the foot sweat of Roxanne. After placing the sock in my mouth, I started sucking out all the sweat, cleansing the material like a washing machine would. While I continued to suck, I put my nose in her shoe and took a deep breath, while at the same time one of my hands had already slid between my legs to fulfill my growing desire. However, my moment of bliss was short-lived as the bathroom light suddenly switched on.

"What in the world are you doing?" I heard Roxanne's voice abruptly sounding cutting through the air. With my nose deep in her shoe and a part of the sock sticking out of my mouth, I looked up and saw Roxanne standing there, clearly shocked.

"I... I...Roxanne, please forgive me..." I stuttered, trying to remove her socks from my mouth to explain my bizarre behavior.

"I'm sure you won't do this again since I want you out of my house right now - she almost shouted in anger and disappointment.

"Roxanne..." I pleaded, watching her frustration, disappointment and disgust etched on her face.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU PERVERT!" She yelled, slamming the door shut, snatching any chance of me explaining.

With tears streaming down my face, I got up and hastily collected my belongings. I stumbled outside, feeling the agony and disgrace of having run out of Megan's life forever.

I couldn't help but think about Megan and how she'd taken me in, treating me like a human, giving me a place to stay. Why did I have to ruin everything? It seemed as if I'd lost all control over my instincts. Maybe Megan was right to treat me like a dog - I was already just an animal lusting for a release.

The city's streets were starting to bustle with movement - cars driving by and people out jogging. It took a lot of effort for me to block out the thought of what I'd have to do for Megan after her run. Without any funds to buy breakfast, I trudged along, my destination being my bank to retrieve my money and live like a normal person again.

As I approached the bank, I realized it hadn't opened yet, so I sat down on a nearby bench. "At least I won't have to wait in a queue," I thought, trying to see the positive in the situation.

An hour later, the bank finally opened, and I walked in feeling somewhat composed.

"Good morning, how can I help you?" asked a bank employee when I reached the counter.

"Good morning Sir. Unfortunately, I've misplaced my ATM card, so I need a new one."

The man nodded, recognizable for his large mustache that made him resemble a walrus, "Yeah, of course."

"And I need cash as well. Around $500 should be sufficient."

He started typing away on his computer, and I waited for what felt like an eternity as I heard the soft pitter-patter of his fingers hitting the keys.

"You know what?" I thought, losing patience, "He's a sloth, not a walrus."

Finally, he finished his work and looked at me curiously.

"Uh, sorry miss, but you've got a problem," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, alarmed.

"Well, your account is practically empty. There's only $21 left," he explained.

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed loudly, semi-paralyzed with dread.

He scanned my documents further, stating, "Yes, I see that Miss Gilles granted a $100,000 loan to you two months ago, but it seems that money has been spent."

I stared at him stunned, knowing that every inch of that money had been spent on Megan's shopping sprees for clothes and the renovation of Thomas Manor. The banks revealed that I was poorer than I'd initially thought, leaving me breathless and feeling like I had lost even more than I'd initially realized. I didn't even have enough to cover my breakfast. My life was getting out of hand. I continued to walk through the city, cursing myself and my inability to stay in control. At least the banks were open and I could start again with a fresh account.

I walked up to the bank counter and acknowledged the employee, "Good morning."

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, unfortunately I lost my ATM card so I need a new one, and I'm out of money. I need cash as well. A small amount should be fine."

He typed into his computer and then took my ID, "Unfortunately, there seems to be a problem, your account is empty. I've checked multiple times. I can see that Miss Gilles lent you one hundred thousand dollars around two months ago, but it's been spent."

I felt like the world was crashing down on me as I heard his words. It seemed that personality and self-control had all escaped me and I was helpless as ever.

• Hey, are you okay? he asked with concern.
• Yeah... I'll be back soon... I responded and left him stunned.

Out in front of the bank, my emotions overtook me. I couldn't believe I had no money left. How could I survive without Thomas Manor now? I had nowhere to stay, no job, and on top of that, I owed a hundred thousand dollars in three years, which seemed impossible.

"What would have happened to me if I hadn't returned the money to Megan? I would've gone to prison for that?" I thought, becoming more and more distressed as I walked away from the bank, nearly stumbling like a drunk.

When the first raindrops hit my face, I looked up at the dark sky, just like how my soul felt at that moment. While searching for shelter from the increasing rain, I could feel Megan's collar tighten around my neck.

Chapter 20: No Way Out

People say that you can only find true friends during tough times, and sadly, I found this statement to be true. I spent the morning wandering the city, knocking on the doors of those I once considered my friends.

The way all the girls reacted to me was unexpected. At first, they showed shock at seeing me outside their doors, followed by trivial questions about where I had been for the past two months and what I had been up to. Of course, none of them actually wanted to know the answer. But I expected that from my old classmates. What surprised me was that the ones who never once came to comfort me after losing my parents didn't bother to let me into their homes. They all had some kind of excuse like unexpected guests or workers fixing something. I stood outside begging them to let me stay for a few days.

When the last girl, named Penny, almost shut the door in my face, I fell to my knees and started kissing her feet. I pleaded with her, "Please, Penny, I'm begging you. Let me stay here for a few days! I'll do anything you ask. I don't have money, but if you let me into your home, I'll be your maid. I'll clean the house, cook, and do laundry!"

I noticed she liked the idea of having Victoria Thomas as her servant. While she weighed her options, I continued to kiss her feet. They were ugly and unkempt. In fact, her nails were unpainted, quite long. After two minutes of non-stop kissing, she finally told me "No."

Before I could move, another door was slammed in my face.

With no hope in sight, I wandered back to the street. The rain had stopped, but the darkening sky didn't bode well. Intent on avoiding the upcoming storm, I continued to walk until I stumbled upon the train station. I found shelter inside, watching the various types of people pass by.

My stomach grumbled as I passed by a McDonald's filled with hardworking commuters. I was so hungry that I could barely contain myself when I witnessed a little girl eating her Happy Meal, happy to play with the provided toy. When the sandwich slipped from her hands and fell onto the floor, the mother scolded her daughter and chucked the uneaten sandwich into the trash. Without even thinking, I plunged my hands into the trash and grabbed the sandwich. I bit into it ravenously but was snapped back to reality when there were just a few bites left. Horrified, I tossed the leftovers in the bin and ran away.

I sat at the train station for nearly a half hour, watching trains come and go. I observed people of all types, wondering what they were thinking, what their responsibilities were, and what their life aspirations were.

"What is my dream?" I questioned, unable to provide a response.

Back then, I'd have given you a definite answer to that question. I was a lady who took great care of her future and had planned out every step. Start with college to major in literature, follow that with a stint at a well-known publishing company acquainted by my father, hoping to expand my writing skills and fulfill my dream of becoming an author of children's books. This passion had been with me since childhood, where my mother would read me stories before bedtime, whichever the story may be, if it featured a chivalrous prince or princess who lived all alone in a castle guarded by a vicious dragon - it didn't matter. I never cared about the book's beautiful or ordinary ending because in my mind, I'd create a version that I liked most.

I soon began documenting the vibrant universes and the zany personas that permeated my innocent mind. Every afternoon found me settled on my soft carpet, reading my creations aloud, while my best friend - typically lying on my bed, with her feet on my pillow - tuned in, often losing track of time.

As I attempted to wipe away that unsettling image, I took notice of a homeless man snoozing in a cardboard box. My eyes widened as I observed his ill-fitting clothes and absent footwear. The smell - horrid and effused with a few hints of urine. I flinched, imagining myself in a similar crude state and fled with haste, knowing that this could become my fate if I didn't act rapidly to solve my issues.

"What about this sandwich I found shuffling through garbage?" I pondered while walking away from the station.

I only needed to stray a short distance to wander into a barely lit alleyway. A prostitute proudly displayed her wares to a man openly intrigued by the prices, while another man observed them carefully, unquestionably the protector.

"Check this out!", came an irate voice that set my nerves on edge, originating from behind me. Two men stood near me.

"What do you see, darling?", the smaller one said with Hispanic features.

I tried to wriggle free but he grabbed my arm firmly.

"Hurry up, sweetheart! Come join us for a bit - ", as he caressed my arm.

Petrified, all I could do was watch as he traced fingers along my body.

"Is he so repulsive that it frightens you, love?" the Hispanic said moodily, stroking my face.

I was hit by a sudden realization that this man had shoved me against a wall and started tugging down my jeans. The blaring sound of a siren forced him to cease for a moment.

"Let's go!", the other man urged.

The Hispanic turned and inspected the alley for policemen, then looked back at me briefly, considering the risks of banging this sheepish blonde before potentially getting arrested.

"Out then", he finally announced, and a few seconds later, they dissipated.

I broke down into sobs, lowering my jeans partially, only stopping when I made it to the bustling city center. Relieved but still crying wildly, I noticed a nearby police car - in response to a reported break-in at either a pub or a bar. Somewhat involuntarily, I found myself feeling grateful to the burglars for bringing the police and unknowingly keeping me from this abominable human being.

"If not for being so lucky this time, stepping out on my own will likely land me into the hands of many more monsters", I thought, still in hysterics about the incident, understanding that there was no other option left for me but to crawl back to Megan's place.

The Thomas Manor estate was encroaching upon me, thunderstorm flooding the sky with lightening while the deafening thunders engulfed my eardrums. I trudged towards the gate, amidst the telegraph poles screeching and the storm-triggered car alarms. I couldn't spot anyone near me, it seemed uncommon for anyone to be out in this weather, other than in case of an emergency. [Thomas Manor Estate] was approaching when the weather worsened. The lightning provided a glimpse of the sky while the thunder shook the very ground. I continued toward the entrance gate of the estate, resisting the strong wind, while the thunder claps also activated the car alarms. The street seemed deserted, but it didn't surprise me - only a crazy person would leave their house during such conditions, unless absolutely necessary. [Our Heroine's journey] was becoming a bustling ordeal.]]]]]\"}\"

I gazed at the entrance panel, disregarding the rain. When a close thunder rumbled nearby, I resigned myself and finally clicked the button. No response came, so I tried numerous times before something finally transpired. A red light lit up, indicating a camera was recording and Megan was watching me. The gate didn't budge, but the light was still illuminated as I waited out in the rain, expecting my old acquaintance to grant me entry into my own home. Time ticked by slowly, and before I knew it, more than half an hour had passed, leaving me soaked and trembling from the cold wind.

"Megan is probably giggling at me, still waiting for her to let me in while she's lounging in the warm comfort of my parents' house," I pondered, seeing the illumination persist.

Flashes of a homeless person, a prostitute, and a man about to rape me rushed through my mind. I wanted to depart, ending this cruel game of Megan's, but couldn't muster the strength to move. Faced with this dilemma, I bowed down in front of the camera like I had once begged for the privilege of licking her feet, the time where I surrendered my freedom. I kept my head lowered for a while, but I didn't dare to lift my glance to see if the light was still glowing. Eventually, the gate began to shift, indicating that Megan had granted me entry.

The front door opened and a towel hung on the handle, accompanied by an inscription above it. Damply, I retrieved the piece of paper and read Megan's delicate handwriting.

"Dry yourself and enter the house, but remember the rules."

I reread it several times, perplexed by the latter part of the statement. When I realized what it meant, I started wiping myself with the provided towel, recognizing it as the promotional sweater Megan used after working up a sweat. Despite its evident dampness, the towel had not deterred me, and I used it to dry my face and body.

I left my garments drenched at the entrance and stepped into the house naked. Although I knew the rules, I proceeded cautiously. I found Megan seated in an armchair in the living room, awaiting my arrival. She had no phone visible at the moment, indicating she intended to grant me her undivided attention. As I slowly approached her, Megan observed me with her striking amber eyes, remaining mum. It appeared to be my duty to start the dialogue.

"Thank you for allowing me to enter," was all I could muster. I then alienated the fact that I spent that morning at the bank where I discovered she used all my money for costly clothing and renovations.

"Your money?" Megan inquired, her face adorned with a devilish smirk.

"When I handed everything I had to you, you extended me a loan. While I was responsible for repaying you after three years, that money was rightfully mine."

"Right?" She mocked.

"I am a human being," I countered sternly.

"You're merely a servant, my slave. An insignificant, wretched creature who can't control its baser instincts...like an animal."

I frowned and momentarily at a loss for words following such a harsh insult.

"It can't be true. It simply can't be true," I told myself, falling to my knees in despair and increasing desperation.

"It's a lie," I blurted out, pounding my fists on the ground. My voice quieted, and Megan remained quiet in response.

• It's a fact you can't deny; you've always understood your position beneath me. You wouldn't have returned so quickly if that weren't the case. You're well aware of your role in life, just like you always have been. So, stop playing coy and make your way over here, to where you properly belong. Megan chuckled as she effortlessly lifted her bare foot.

"I'm no match for her, I've never truly mattered to anyone except as her servant. As a child, I simply followed her orders, constantly striving for her acceptance. I didn't matter beyond that," I mumbled sadly as I crept towards the armchair.

"Closer to my rightful spot in life," I whispered to myself as Megan placed her foot on my head. [

Read also:

• Yes, Darling
• An Evening with Brittnay: Part 1
• Max Obeys His Mother's Orders
• House Sitter Part 3: New Responsibilities

Source: www.nice-escort.de