Three days into the job and things had already taken a very peculiar turn.
Eric never expected to be laying under the desk of one of the three most powerful women at the firm, let alone with her scuffed Klogs resting firmly on his chest. Liz, the junior VP, had seemed so professional in her fitted jacket and slacks. But since when was resting her feet on a colleague's chest professional?
Liz grinned as she laid out her "rules".
"Rule number one," she said in a clipped and even tone, as if she expected his ready compliance in all things. "Do what I say and exactly what I say. That's the only way this is gonna work."
Eric was nervous. He'd agreed to the arrangement but wasn't expecting it to feel so humiliating.
"Rule number two," she continued. "I expect lots of enthusiasm for everything I have you do. I don't care if you enjoy it or not, but don't let me think for a second you don't enjoy it. Which brings me to rule three. No faces. I don't care how stinky my feet are. I don't want any looks of disgust and definitely no comments. You're here to work on my feet and that's exactly what you'll do. No attitude. I hate that."
Eric was still upset with himself for agreeing to it. He'd been warned Liz had smelly feet but he assumed she only expected a foot rub. He didn't think she'd be rubbing her smelly feet in his face.
He'd been trying so hard to make a good impression at the firm that when he wasn't doing so, he was too quick to agree to this exercise in humiliation. If only this hadn't been his only employment opportunity in months, he would have got up and walked out the door. But the future was bleak, poor job performance and employment gaps giving him fewer and fewer options.
The job had begun well enough. His interview with Amanda, the senior VP, went surprisingly well and he'd been offered the job on the spot. They'd been expecting a woman by the name of Erica, and yet somehow it didn't matter that he was a man named Eric applying for a job at a pr firm devoted exclusively to women's causes.
Amanda was statuesque with an angular, sporty physique, likely in her forties but easily passing for younger. She would have been intimidating if she hadn't reassured him with the occasional smile.
She broke the ice by joking about the name confusion.
"If I'd looked at your resume first, I would have realized your name was Eric not Erica but my assistant has a habit of mumbling," she confided. "Granted, I might not have looked at your resume if I'd known since, as you know, this firm is devoted to issues of women's excellence and leadership and ensuring that the accomplishments of our best and brightest are used to inspire other women to greatness. I wouldn't think this was the ideal choice for someone like you, not that I'd discriminate and say no. I just wouldn't expect one of the male sex to be all that interested in women's issues."
"I'm all for it," he volunteered, though he was ready to say anything to get the job. He was keen to get working again. "Women's issues, that is. We should do more to make their accomplishments known."
"True," she answered. "If only more boys could be grown-ups about it. We're here and we're taking charge. Get used to it."
Eric smiled a response though her remarks felt more like a threat. It was odd that she referred to men as boys.
"We had a few other boys working here, though they came in as copyrighters. It was never a great fit, though it could have worked if they hadn't been so sensitive about things, as boys do. Granted, the other copywriters probably gave them a hard time, but it would have been fine if those boys manned up. If you want to keep up with us, you've got to work hard."
Eric nodded with a smile. Whatever happened to the other men, it was of no consequence. He wanted a job and he was ready to do his best.
"I'll do what I can," he said. "You do great work here and I'd love to be of service." He didn't care what they did, but he would be good at it all the same.
Amanda flashed a smile. "Service. Indeed. I'd be happy to have you serve our cause. You'd make for an exciting change around here. With almost thirty women working here, adding another woman won't give the rest of us an improved perspective on the male sex. Having you here, committed to our cause, will show them that some of you lot can do what we can. A male account exec. I think that's what we need."
Here words were almost demeaning, but the pay was too good to give it more than a moment's thought.
"How soon can you start?" she asked, to his relief and surprise. He couldn't believe his good fortune. He'd submitted his resume on a whim, not expecting a response; and yet here he was with a new job.
No sooner did he accept her offer of employment than he was taken on a tour of their spacious offices. His presence was greeted with surprised grins. Many of the women were pleasant looking, and a few of them even beautiful. He didn't feel out of place. If anything, he felt fortunate, like a sultan presiding over a harem.
His new assistant, Nicole, was a girl in her mid-twenties, soft features and wide eyes. The girl couldn't stop smiling as she accepted Eric's outstretched hand. He figured she was pleased that finally there was a man working there. It couldn't have hurt that he was what many considered handsome, and, judging from the many women he slept with, very desirable.
It was fellow account executive Dana who took him under her wing. She wasn't beautiful yet he couldn't keep from stealing glances at her shapely physique. Like many of the women there, she knew how to dress, using a blouse and skirt to showcase her body.
"I've got to admit, I'm a little surprised," she confided when they sat down to discuss the accounts he was inheriting. "You know what we do, right?"
"Women's issues," he replied, wishing he had something more to say. He still couldn't believe he had the job.
"We do what we can to advance the role of women in society," she explained, "celebrating their leadership and pushing for more women in influential corporate roles. Though you wouldn't be here if Amanda didn't think you could help us with that. She's tough and she has a way of looking at you like you were standing in front of her with your pants around your ankles, but don't let that bother you. That's just how she is."
Dana quickly made Eric feel at home, giving him the lowdown on the company and on what accounts to prioritize.
"The ones over there," she said, gesturing to some Redwelds on a desk, "aren't that critical yet. But they will be. Look at these ones first."
The files Dana gave him concerned women athletes. Sports was familiar territory for him and he was already writing down ideas for how to market their accomplishments, with a view to using them on advertising campaigns.
The following day, his meeting with Amanda didn't go as well as hoped. She was disappointed that he'd already neglected the high priority accounts, the ones Dana assured him weren't important yet.
"Look, Eric," said Amanda, her gaze withering. "I know you just started but I need you to keep up. Cute boys don't get special treatment here. They pull their weight and they keep up with everyone else."
"Of course. Dana said those files weren't important."
"Typical," she answered. "Blaming a woman for what you didn't do. Come on, Eric. Man up and get on those files. We have an event to prepare for this Friday."
She turned from him, which was Eric's cue to leave her office and get busy. He grabbed the neglected files and familiarized himself with them. The files concerned business leaders, one of whom was speaking at an event later that week.
That day, he prepared some notes to discuss with Amanda. He had enough ideas to prove his worth to the firm.
His third day, he was no longer a novelty around the office. The grins and whispers turned to curt nods of the head. He was one of them.
He was reaching for the files which contained his handwritten notes when he was surprised to find they weren't where he'd put them. He was at a loss. He looked everywhere but they'd disappeared. Someone had taken them. Was someone trying to undermine him already? He thought he was part of the team, or had it only seemed that way.
He remembered enough about his notes to wing it, but when Amanda pressed him for details, he admitted that his files had been taken.
"You mean you lost them," she answered, her voice raised. The door was open which meant her assistant Steph and others could hear her dress him down. "Two days on the job and you don't know your right from your left," she said, shaking her head. "Maybe you boys think that when you make a mistake it's no big deal. But it's a big deal here. This is important stuff. Reputations on the line. And you think you can shrug it off like we don't have to do our utmost to advance the careers of women leaders. Do you even take this seriously?"
"I do," he answered, stammering under her imperious disapproval. "I can find those files. I really will do my best. I have great ideas."
"Useless when you lose the files, Eric," she answered.
"I think someone took them," he attempted to explain.
"There you go again. Blaming someone else. These are your files. Your responsibility. Or do you boys take responsibility for anything?"
"Of course. I'm sorry."
"Maybe it was a mistake hiring a boy to do a woman's job," she muttered to herself.
Eric felt insulted. He'd never been made to feel so small over something that wasn't even his fault. If someone took the files, he'd find out who it was.
Amanda's secretary Steph, a plump woman in her late thirties who made a habit of wearing frumpy clothes, covered her smirk with a hand. He flushed with embarrassment.
Eric stormed to Dana's office, ready to have it out with her. Who else knew about the files?
"How's it going?" she asked innocently before reacting to Eric's scowl. "That well?"
"My files went missing, the ones you told me not to worry about but that she says are critical, and now they're gone."
"I told you they were critical," she answered calmly.
"Well, they're gone."
"Sorry. She hates that. People losing shit. She didn't fire you did she?"
"You're lucky. People usually get fired for stuff like that. Well, she must be giving you one more chance. I wonder where those files went."
"I need to find them," he answered anxiously. He couldn't afford being out of work again. He had to salvage this job somehow.
"Must have been a real pants around the ankles moment, huh?" she noted with a grin. "Or should I say underpants and pants around the ankles? Not to mention extra shrinkage so she's feeling sorry for you too because she thinks you've got a really small penis."
Her sense of humor was untimely and inappropriate and yet she chuckled to herself as if his situation were a laughing matter.
"Don't worry. It'll work out. We'll figure something out. I don't want to see you leave. I don't think anyone does."
"I just need those files," he said, relieved to know he had some support.
"I'll ask around."
"Thanks," he answered, realizing that his fate at the firm hinged on this woman with the offputting sense of humor.
It wasn't two hours before Dana entered his office with a fellow account executive by the name of Alexa, a very attractive woman in a dress and boots, a smile upturned in a perpetual smirk. He recognized the files in Alexa's arms.
"I realized I was given the wrong files," she said with a winning smile. If she'd taken anything, it would be difficult to hold it against her. "Those were the ones I had to sign off on," she added, gesturing to his other files.
"You took them?" he asked.
"My assistant or yours. I don't know. They were on my desk. But I'll give you these if you give me those."
Eric took his files from her and let her retrieve the others. "I'll get these back to you in a jiffy." She added, still smiling in a way that seemed unmistakably flirtatious.
"This is Alexa," said Dana. "She handled the athlete files before you inherited them. Oh, I told her about your pants around the ankles moment with Amanda
"How embarrassing," chuckled Alexa.
"Not literally," explained Dana.
"I know. I was just imagining him pantsless in front of Amanda. Poor guy."
Alexa patted Eric on the shoulder. It was a little patronizing but he didn't care. Her touch excited him.
"We've been thinking of a way to help," said Dana. "Since this is also our fault. And I think we came up with something. It's unconventional but it's all we could think up."
Alexa took a seat, a hand to his arm. He imagined her sitting on his lap.
"Well, there's the other VP, Liz," explained Alexa. "She has a lot of clout around here and if you get in good with her, you're not going anywhere."
"Amanda can criticize you all she wants but with Liz on your side, you're safe. She's your insurance, you could say."
"What do I do?" asked Eric, eager to safeguard his job.
"You leave that to us," said Alexa with a gentle squeeze of his arm. "We've got your back."
"Drop by my office in an hour and I'll introduce you to her," said Dana.
"None of us can keep Amanda happy all the time," said Alexa. "But we make damn sure to keep Jen happy by any means necessary. She's cool. You'll like her."
"We could also explain the mix up to Amanda," suggested Eric.
"You want her to yell at us too?" asked Alexa, no longer smiling.
"Of course not."
"Then leave it to us," said Alexa, her hand once again grazing his arm. "We'll make it good again."
After the women left his office, he couldn't stop thinking about Alexa. She was perfection. His assistant Nicole, on the other hand, was less than perfection. Her usually mocking grin suggested she had something to do with the mix up. He chose not to confront her about it, but he knew to be wary.
He waited out the hour, only once interrupted by a group of four younger women who peered into his office, giggling as they waved to him.
"We're the copywriters," said one of the women, her long hair in a ponytail drawn tight over a pretty face. "My name's Jenna. When you're ready to work on anything, give us a holler."
"Or if you just wanna hang out," suggested someone else. "We're a lot of fun."
As the women walked away he could overhear one of them comment that "he's cute," to a raucous burst of laughter.
Eric felt popular and comfortable that his standing at the firm would be repaired. He wanted to do well and he wanted to thrive. He'd do everything he could to stay and to share this company with so many lovely and obliging women. Alexa, alone, was reason enough to do everything he could to stay.
When the time came, Eric walked to Dana's office where he met with Alexa and the other account executive, Nikki: a petite, bespectacled woman who greeted him warmly, a hand to his arm. It didn't compare to his excitement when Alexa placed a hand atop his shoulder.
"You ready?" asked Alexa.
"She's been looking forward to meeting you," said Dana.
"If what we suggest to her seems weird, just go with it. It's your best chance, believe me. You want to make a long and lasting impression with her, and this is the best way to do it."
"It's not what you say that matters for her, it's what you do."
"So be a good boy and say nothing," suggested Alexa, her finger to his lips. "Leave the talking to us and you can thank us later."
"Women's work fixes everything, huh?" remarked Nikki.
"That's why you boys need to leave more things to us," ventured Alexa, sliding her arm around his and guiding him from the office. Dana followed.
Jen had pleasing enough features and a stunning body that fit snug into slacks and shirt. She greeted Eric with a smile and a hearty handshake before turning to the others.
"So what's the surprise?" she asked, eyes widening with anticipation. "Besides the cutie with the nice ass," she added, turning to Eric, a hand grazing his arm. "Welcome, by the way."
"Well, in honor of your birthday," ventured Alexa.
"Which is tomorrow," corrected Jen.
"Well, we know how much you love foot worship," ventured Dana. Eric didn't know what he was hearing.
"Oh God, I could use it today," said Jen. "I haven't sat down all day."
Eric glanced down at a scuffed pair of black Klogs on her feet.
"Well, what would you think if that cutie were to worship your feet," said Alexa, " as our birthday gift to you."
Eric was too shocked by the words to know what to think. Surely, they were joking. He knew enough about foot worship to know it was something he wasn't interested in doing, much less for a superior at work.
"Seriously?" answered Liz with a giddy shriek. "He'll do my feet? Today?"
"For your birthday," explained Dana before giving Eric a conspiratorial wink as if the scheme had his approval.
"Oh my God," said Liz, beaming. "You guys are so awesome," she added before giving Dana and Alexa warm hugs. "I mean I can barely get a guy I'm dating to give me a foot rub much less full on foot worship."
Eric waited for them to admit it was all a joke, but the women continued hugging. "This is such an amazing gift, you guys. Thank you so much. My feet thank you. They sorely need the attention, let me tell you." The three women chuckled.
Eric noticed that Alexa's assistant, Brooke, a full figured girl, was listening and smiling. He felt embarrassed. Who else could have heard?
"Oh," said Liz, glancing down at her shoes. "I wore these ratty old things."
"So? He's worshipping your feet not your shoes," said Alexa.
"Well, my feet always get super whiffy with these and I wore them barefoot, so if he doesn't mind the stink. I knew I'd be doing a ton of walking today so I wore my comfy shoes."
"They're feet," said Dana. "I don't think he was expecting them to smell like roses."
"And it's your birthday," said Alexa. "The last thing you should have to worry about is your feet being too smelly. He'll worship them for you. Just enjoy it."
"Oh, I will," said Jen. "I can't wait. Why don't you send him to my office around 5:30? I should be done all my errands by then and my feet'll be ready. Super sore and soooo ready for it."
Alexa flashed Eric a smile as Jen leaned in to her and whispered: "He better be good."
"Thanks again. I'm really looking forward to it. Best birthday gift in a long time."
As Jen sprinted off, handbag slung over her shoulder, Eric turned his mounting anger on Dana. She was supposed to have been protecting him.
"Alright, a joke's a joke," he said.
"Her enthusiasm is genuine," explained Dana. "If anyone deserves some great foot worship it's her. She works so hard."
"I don't worship feet," he said in hushed tones, nervous about being overheard. "That's disgusting."
Alexa grabbed Eric by the arm and pulled him into her office.
"Well, this is as good a place to start as any," said Alexa, a hand to his shoulder. "Like I said, if you've gotta keep someone happy it's her and she's got this thing for getting her feet worshipped. I know it's a little weird, but it's the easiest way to make her happy. You do a good enough job and she'll never let them kick you out. But you've gotta do a good job."
"I don't think you have many options, Eric," said Dana. "Your days are numbered otherwise. I've seen it happen too often."
"I don't even know what foot worship is," he admitted.
Dana and Alexa exchanged a smile before Alexa turned to Eric and told him that "Jen'll show you."
"Do a great job," said Dana. "I can't stress that enough. Most of her foot worship stories are about guys who do a lousy job of it. And she hates it when a guy can't worship her feet right. Do a great job and you're set."
It seemed easy enough, but could he trust their assurances? It still seemed like a perverse joke, yet the inevitability of it was sinking in.
"Look," said Alexa, her hand to his arm. "We want you to stay, but there's no other way. Just work on her feet, make her happy and no more worries."
"I don't know what I'm doing," he answered.
"Just do exactly what she tells you and you'll be fine," explained Dana. "And show her you're enjoying it. That's key."
"The only downside, Eric, is that she does have super stinky feet. But everything else is an upside. And you can thank us when you're still here a year from now."
Eric hesitated, as Dana drew an arm about his waist. "See. He's a good sport."
"We can do that call," said Alexa to Dana. "We're having a meeting now," she then told Eric. But don't forget. 5:30. And don't be late. She hates it when guys keep her waiting."
It was a matter of seconds before he was standing outside Alexa's office door, her assistant Brooke gazing at him with a broad grin. He flushed with embarrassment before returning to his office, wondering what to do. Did keeping a job really require his humiliation? He already felt humiliated at the mere thought of it. Though if it was a foot rub, it couldn't have been too bad. He could at least hold his nose while he worked on her feet.
The remainder of the afternoon dragged on. All Eric could think about was whether to skip out early or go see Jen as promised. Of course, he didn't promise anything. He was volunteered for it, without his say so. And yet here he was feeling guilty about standing her up.
As 5:30 approached, he left his office. The office was quiet, though Nicole was still at her desk. He could swear he heard whispers as he walked the length of the hallway toward Jen's office.
Sitting at a desk was Jen's perky assistant Chelsea, her blond hair dyed in streaks and a tattoo on her bare arm. She grinned as Eric entered, crossing her legs to reveal thick soled knee-high boots.
"You must be Eric," she said in a shushed whisper as if sharing a naughty secret with him.
"She's expecting me?" he asked as if to confirm he wasn't imagining what happened earlier.
"You're down on the calendar," she said, typing on the keyboard. "5:30 Foot Worship from Eric."
He flushed with embarrassment.
"You must like stinky feet, huh?" she asked.
"No," he replied.
Chelsea giggled and shook her head. "You wouldn't be worshipping her feet if you didn't like them stinky. Though Jen's not the only one with stinky feet around here that could use some attention."
Chelsea swung a booted foot onto her desk, and then the other, crossing them at the ankles. "My feet are roasting in these boots," she whispered, her voice lowered.
Eric was close to running but he chose to ignore her remarks. "Can I go in?"
"Well, she IS expecting you," noted Chelsea. "My invitation remains open, sweet cheeks," she added, her hand grazing his leg up to his rear end. He stepped clear of her, shocked by her forwardness, and walked to Jen's door, which was slightly ajar.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked, as if sensing his presence. He opened the door to find Jen typing at a keyboard behind her desk. He took a seat.
She paused and turned to face him. "Are you gonna worship my feet over there?" she asked him, with a half-smile.
He hesitated, at a loss for words. It was still so unreal.
"I'm still really busy so I'm gonna finish some things while you work on my feet, OK?"
Rolling her seat back, Jen gestured to the floor at her feet. He stood up and walked around the desk.
"The sooner you get on the floor, the sooner we can get started," she said impatiently, sizing him up as if she were disappointed with him.
He sat down at her feet, ready to rub her feet when uncrossed her legs, pressed her Klog against his chest and pushed him to the floor, crossing her feet on his chest as she took a sip of coffee.
"First the ground rules," she began. And as she read them off, the reality of his situation made him feel hollow inside. He could already smell the cloying scent of rotten shoes as she rested them on his chest. He tried to understand how this had come to pass and chalked it up to desperation. He wanted a job and this was the price he had to pay.
She wanted obedience and enthusiasm. It was a tall order when a pair of smelly feet were involved.
With her shoes perched on his upper chest, she grinned. "This is gonna be fun. I've never done this to one of our boys."
He wanted to correct her and tell her he was an account executive not a boy, but he figured such words were wasted.
"Should I rub your feet now?" he asked, still hoping it was all he had to do.
"There'll be time enough for that when you're done worshipping them," she explained. It wasn't foot massage. It was much, much worse. "Here's the plan. Once my shoes are off and as soon as they're off, you're going to smell my feet until I'm ready to have you clean them with your tongue. And don't forget between the toes. I want them totally clean. And then you get to rub them."
The thought of sniffing her feet was nauseating, and he would have got up from the floor if her feet weren't planted so firmly on his upper chest. She didn't give him time to voice objections before she quickly pried off one Klog to reveal a broad, reddened sole flecked with specks of dirt, especially on the heel and the balls of her feet. Flexing her toes, she sighed.
The rush of odor hit his nostrils, sharp and pungent, vinegar and cheese coupled with musty old shoes. He would have turned his head if she hadn't planted her solid size seven foot firmly on his face, her foot hot and damp as she began rubbing it over his face.
"This is great," she said to herself with a groan, her toes sliding over his nose and clutching at it.
"Wow, I can smell 'em from here. Go on, smell 'em so I can hear you."
Eric was holding his breath but he remembered Dana's admonitions. His job was on the line and all he had to do was pleasure Jen's feet. It was either smell her toes or beat the pavement looking for another great job.
He inhaled, and almost choked on the stink of unwashed feet. The mixture of Parmesan and rotten shoe fabric was sickening.
"That it," she purred. "Right under the toes."
He inhaled again. It didn't get any easier.
"You're really smelling them. I love it. Keep it up."
Eric could see her smiling down at him, her foot sliding over his face as if she enjoyed the thrill of power.
As her toes flexed, he could see flecks of maroon nailpolish on dirty toenails. Her heels ere calloused as were the balls of her feet. They weren't what one might call beautiful feet by any means. They were too thick and in need of a pedicure. And yet, she seemed giddy at the prospect of showing her filthy foot in his face and keep insisting he smell her toes.
"You're not making a face are you?" she asked with a scowl. He inhaled deeply, the sour, pungent stink just as potent as at first sniff. Clutching at his nose with her toes, she'd proceed to sliding the tips of her toes under his nose.
"You'd better be enjoying it," she said.
He sniffed again. And then he heard her second shoe fall to the floor. Her foot odor was potent and as her second slimy, filthy foot joined the first, his entire face was covered.
Jen chuckled as she wiggled her toes, and slid them down his face until they curled over his nose.
"Remember rule number two. Enthusiasm. Now smell my toes."
He sniffed as loudly as he could and then quickly regretted it. She giggled, clearly enjoying his humiliation. But the putrid cheesy stink was still sickening.
"You like that, huh?" she mused. He didn't, but he must have been doing a decent job of pretending.
"Keep smelling them, dummy," she told him and he inhaled again and again, feeling her calloused heels over his face.
As she pressed the toes of one foot up against his nostrils, she pressed the heel of her other foot over his mouth.
"Time to start cleaning my dirty feet. Use your teeth. I want 'em totally clean."
Her heel was calloused and filthy and yet he was sucking on it and using his teeth to scrape dirt from it. He was making headway when she had him begin licking the length of her sole until he began sucking on the toughened, fleck-marked skin of the ball of her foot. It was grueling work as she pressed her foot to his mouth, ultimately shoving her grubby toes into his mouth to have him suck on them and even lick between them. He kept chewing on particles as she continued to point out the dirty spots on her soles.
"Cool. You're actually cleanin' 'em pretty good."
There was barely a moment to catch his breath before her other heel pressed against his mouth, the acrid salty flavor making him sick as he began licking her foot clean.
It went beyond degradation to the act of worship because at some point he forgot what he was doing. He was just cleaning her feet as if it were the most natural thing in the world, until he remembered this woman was humiliating him with her filthy, stinking feet.
Her clean feet slithered over his face.
"That foot rub sounds good now," she said, plunking one foot on his face while she pressed the other against his hand. He began squeezing and pressing her foot as she let the other play over his face.
"Not bad. Not the best worship I've had but not half bad either. Next time you could at least do me the courtesy of showing more enthusiasm and appreciation."
He wanted to tell her there wouldn't be a next time, but he held his tongue.
He must have been rubbing her feet for at least fifteen minutes when she pulled them away and stood up.
"You really liked that, huh?" she said, a wide grin on her face.
"Did I do alright?" he asked, eager for her approval.
"You wouldn't have done all that if you didn't like it. I still can't believe you did it. Didn't my feet smell awful? God, they must have tasted awful too."
Eric was confused. He thought it was what she wanted.
"I don't understand," he said.
"I figured you'd get grossed out the minute I took of shoe and went running, but you stuck it out and sniffed the hell out of these bad girls. And don't try to convince me you hated it."
"It's what you wanted," he said.
She chuckled. "Or is it what you wanted?" she asked as she slipped on her Klogs and stood up.
"Anyway we're done so you can go. Don't worry. Amanda was never gonna fire you. This was just a ruse to see if we could get you to smell and lick my dirty feet and you totally did."
"This was a trick?" he asked. He was furious.
"Take it easy. It was just a bit of fun. Though you're the first guy to totally clean my feet with his mouth. Maybe I didn't get 'em nasty enough."
"Fuck this," he roared as he ran from the room.
Chelsea was gone, as was most of the office staff. But as he ran to his room to clear out his things, fully intent on leaving, Dana appeared with a broad grin.
"You were in there a long time. Did you do everything she asked?"
"You tricked me. Great for you. Now I'm leaving."
"Oh, come on. It was just a bit of fun. Were you smelling her feet the whole time?"
"He loved it," yelled Jen as she walked by his office en route to reception. "And they reeked to high heaven."
Dana's mouth was agape. "Oh my God, you totally smelled her feet?"
"And he cleaned them with his mouth too," yelled Jen from outside. "They were filthy."
He could hear voices dissolving into a burst of laughter. He was already the joke of the office. The humiliation was unbearable.
"It was just a bit of fun," said Dana, a hand to his arm. But he shook it loose. He wasn't going to be charmed into forgetting what they did.
"He licked 'em clean," said Alexa appearing at the door. She was beautiful even with a mocking sneer. Alexa returned to a few of her co-workers, including his assistant Nicole as they laughed over the details.
"Was everyone in on it?"
"No," answered Dana. "We just wanted to have some fun with the new guy. Break the ice, you know."
Eric continued to collect his things.
Dana stepped before him. "Oh, come on. You're taking it so hard. So what. You got tricked into smelling someone's feet and licking them clean. It couldn't have been all that bad, right? You must have enjoyed it a little bit."
"Why would I have enjoyed it?" he asked.
"We'll explain everything to Amanda. And we'll move on. We really like you and we've enjoyed having you. No one wants to see you go."
There was more laughter outside, clearly at his expense.
"I'm not a mockery."
"You were a good sport," explained Dana. "They'll like you even more. If anything they're all totally jealous of Jen. I sure am. It must have been fun for her getting worshipped like that. Poor thing doesn't get her feet worshipped much anymore."
Eric wanted to stay but he couldn't process what had just happened to him.
"We get a little wild here and we like to prank one another. It was just a way of bringing you into the team. Come on, tell me you'll stay."
Eric sighed and nodded.
Dana squeezed his arm and stepped outside. "See you tomorrow," she said before joining the others outside, ushering them into a room so Eric wouldn't hear their laughter.
He waited until things quieted down, grabbed his bag and walked out. Near the elevator was Nikki, giving him the once over with a smirk.
"You really fell for it, huh?" she noted.
He had nothing to say.
"Rumor has it you really liked it. Four days of not washing her feet. We thought you'd get all grossed out."
"I thought I was getting canned."
"You better not let them think you enjoyed it. There's no telling what they'll do if they think you liked Jen's nasty feet. They'll think you're game for anything."
He didn't enjoy it. There was no problem there. Why would they think he enjoyed it?
"You knew too?"
She shrugged as the elevator rang.
"Can you blame them? Nothing but women, and a cute guy starts working here."
She entered the elevator but he didn't follow. He needed to be alone. He could still smell Jen's feet. The odor lingered unpleasantly.
He resolved to start fresh tomorrow. It was a great job and he was going to make the most of it. If it was all just a joke, he'd laugh it off and move on.
The following morning, it was easy to forget what happened the night before. Everyone went about their business, nary a mocking grin to remind him of his humiliation.
Yesterday's memo to Amanda, unfortunately, came back covered in red pen corrections. She took a critical eye to every turn of phrase and every grammar error. She didn't miss a thing. Did this practical joke of theirs do any good in securing his job, or had he been smelling Jen's filthy feet for nothing?
The presentation marked up by Amanda had been largely the contribution of Jenna and the other copyright girls. He resolved to see them, to explain Amanda's concerns.
The copyright area was known for being a bit raucous, everyone sitting out front chatting about ideas and rarely seated in their office. Eric's arrival was greeted with a hushed silence punctuated by muffled giggles.
It was Jenna who greeted him.
"Everything good?" she asked.
"I just wanted to show you Amanda's corrections," he said, offering her the memo.
Without glancing at it, Jenna took a hand to her hips and smirked. "We just supply the ideas. It's up to you to frame it properly. Did you give it to her exactly as we wrote it?"
"Yeah," he answered, realizing he should have been more cautious.
"Maybe you should spend more time proofing your material and less time smelling people's stinky feet," she said with a broadening smile. The room erupted with muffled laughter. Blushing, Eric turned from the room but not before someone cupped his rear end and squeezed, which only added to his humiliation. Finding his office, he decided not to leave.
It was Dana and Alexa who found him, both of them in the usual high spirits.
"I just wanted to say that, all the laughter and jokes aside, you're the admiration of the office," said Dana.
"I never thought you'd do it," said Alexa, perching herself on the corner of his desk. "Were her feet pretty nasty?"
"Yeah," he replied.
"He was a really good sport, wasn't he?" noted Dana.
"Tell me the truth, did you like her feet in your face?" asked Alexa with a toothy grin. She was mocking him and yet he would have done anything she asked of him.
"No," he answered.
"Oh, be honest," said Alexa. "You had her feet in your face for an hour. You loved smelling her reeking feet, huh?"
He didn't answer.
"Would you do my feet?" asked Alexa with a smirk.
He didn't know how to respond, which was all the answer Alexa needed. She walked out chuckling.
"You know, it's really awesome what you did," said Dana. "Shows you're game. Which is cool. Not only do we get some nice eye candy here for a change, cute face and nice ass, but we get someone who lets us have a little fun. And, come on. You're the first guy we've had here in ages. You can't keep us from have a little fun with you."
"I just want to do my job," he explained.
"I know, but you're also part of a team and you're carving out a great role for yourself. Believe me, you're becoming indispensable."
"It doesn't matter if you liked Jen's feet. What matters is you did it. And if you hated it, it makes what you did even more impressive. You took one for the team. And we got to have a good laugh, thanks to you. We like to keep things entertaining here, and, with you here, that should be even easier. If you're game for humiliation by stinky foot, what else are you game for?"
"Like I said. I just want to do my job."
"And you're a cute boy in a woman's workplace. Take it for what it is and have fun with it. And don't be upset because we're having fun with it."
Dana turned to leave but hesitated as if remembering something.
"You know," she said, facing him once again. "Just thinking about your great attitude. How you're game for things and let us ladies have fun. I really should introduce you to some of my friends. We have a group. We meet up. Share some laughs. Sometimes invite a cute boy over to have mess around with, and I'm sure they'd have a blast with you. You'd love 'em. They're a lot of fun, and I can guarantee they will lots and lots of fun with you. Something to think about."
Eric was stunned. Was she inviting him to some kind of orgy? At any other time in his life, he would have been thrilled by the prospect. Today, he only felt used.
"You know, we've never done anything kinky with smelly feet but I wonder if they'd be open to it, seeing how you've been such a good sport about Jen's feet; could be very interesting since I know for a fact that a few of them almost always have super stinky feet. Well, it won't hurt to ask. I'll let you know what they think. But yeah, give it some thought. They're a great group of women who know how to have fun, and they're really hands on."
Eric had never felt like such a tool. Was his purpose here to keep these women amused? He'd come to work hard, but he was belittled and diminished at every turn.
He dreaded the afternoon status meeting which took place without Amanda. Jen would be presiding. How could he look at her without thinking about how she degraded him by forcing her dirty sweaty feet on him for an hour?
En route, he passed Jenna and two of the other copyrighters, Allie and Kylie. They were cute girls - Alie bespectacled with a Cheshire cat grin, and Kylie, a pretty girl with hair in a short ponytail who was always giggling. "Hi Eric," they chimed gleefully. Again, someone pinched his bottom. Under different circumstances, he would have enjoyed it. But he was in no humor for touchy feely girls.
Eric found a seat in the back, away from the knowing gazes. He wasn't so much as a colleague as much as the guy who actually smelled and licked Jen's dirty feet.
Fortunately, it was a relatively tedious meeting: all business and few laughs.
"Oh, and before we go," noted Jen. "I just wanted to thank Eric for being so awesome yesterday. What started as a joke turned into a really really great time. I've never had a guy worship my feet when they were so filthy and nasty. So here's to Eric for being so awesome."
The room erupted into cheers and smiles. Eric sank into his seat.
"Was he really good at it?" asked Alexa's assistant Brooke.
"He was fantastic," she answered with a satisfied grin.
"And he smelled them?" said one of the women from accounting.
"Oh yeah. They smelled awful but he was inhaling them like a trooper."
The room dissolved into laughter again.
"So for foot worship, ladies, Eric is the bomb."
The women were all grins as they sized him up and chatted amongst themselves.
"So does this mean we get foot rubs?" asked Val, the head of accounting, a short-statured no-nonesense woman in her late thirties. "Seeing how a lot of us are on our feet, especially on those busy days."
"Foot rubs," began the chant. "Foot rubs. Foot rubs. Foot rubs." Everyone applauded.
"We're getting foot rubs?" asked one woman nearby.
"Alright ladies," said Jen. "That's it for now. Thanks for the hard work. And let's continue to make Eric feel at home. Keep showing him our fun side."
More applause. But Eric didn't care for their "fun" side.
Eric waited until he thought everyone left, but Jen and Chelsea were still collecting papers.
"You know, Eric, I had my doubts about Amanda hiring a boy. I didn't think you'd keep up around here. But I think you're really earning your keep here. You were great with my feet yesterday, by the way."
She raised a foot to reveal the same old Klogs. "Same shoes today. In case you'd like to come by and taste my sweaty feet again."
"What was the best part?" asked Chelsea of Jen.
"Just rubbing my feet in his face right out of my shoes. They reeked but it was hot knowing he was smelling them."
Chelsea grinned as she turned to Eric, revealing the same boots she had on the day before.
Eric hurried outside. Back in his office, he noticed something smelled foul, like an old locker room. He noticed a filthy pair of sweat socks draped over his desk. In the distance, he heard someone sniggering; that or he imagined it.
He dropped the crusty old sweat socks into a trash can before retrieving a message from Amanda saying she was on her way back to the office and that she wanted to see him. Was it what he dreaded? He'd try to explain everything. Or perhaps she already knew.
Steph greeted Eric with a grin and told him that Amanda was waiting. As usual, she was busily typing, her glasses as she turned to read text from a magazine.
"Have a seat," she said without looking at him.
He sat and waited for Amanda to finish her work. She turned and looked at him over the rims of her glasses.
"Sounds like they got you good, hmm? You'll have to be more careful with them, unless you like their smelly feet in your face. Bring a cute boy into the office and they're all too distracted to get things done."
"They'd taken those files the other day. To trick me."
"I know. They told me. Clever. Though it's still your job to keep track of things. It's also your job to keep on top of your files and keep me up to date, though I don't think you've been doing that. And the updates I get are sloppy. Like I said, you don't get a free pass here for being cute. You need to make yourself useful unless your idea of being useful is keeping the women amused."
"No, I want to do my best."
"Good; though I'd be careful about revealing my hidden talents because the women here will be more than happy to make full use of them. You can either be a hard working executive or you can be another stupid boy who's good for a few laughs. You want them to take you seriously, right? You don't want to show them the only thing you can do well is lick their feet. 'Cause if that's all you do well, that's all you'll be doing here."
"I want to do well," he said, shocked at the possibility of licking everyone's feet.
"Then show me. Don't give me shoddy work. Keep track of deadlines. You want to earn the respect of the women here, prove your worth. At the rate you're going, they won't respect you much at all; though maybe I can make use of some of that talent of yours to get me through today. These pumps are killing me and frankly I could use a good foot massage. Seeing I'm wasting so much time fixing your mistakes and keeping on top of files that are your responsibility, I figure maybe a good foot massage might work off some of my irritation."
Eric was shocked. Was she asking him to rub her feet? How could she implore him to take things seriously if she was treating him like a tool?
"With all the errors and general sloppiness," she said with a gin. "That could mean a lot of foot rubs to work off my annoyance. Shape up and I'll respect you too much to ask. Right now, my respect is low enough that I will ask and the more you disappoint the more I'll be convinced that you're better off working on my feet than managing accounts."
Amanda pulled her chair back and beckoned him over.
"My respect goes down enough, I won't have any qualms about using your face as a foot rest. But I still have some respect for your capabilities and I know you can do more. But it's low enough that I'm going to ask you to get on your knees, take off my shoes and give me an amazing foot rub. Show me you can do something great. Redeem yourself."
Eric stood up and approached. He couldn't believe this was happening again, but if there was anyone he was anxious to please it was Amanda. She was the most powerful woman at the company, apart from the President who was never around.
She was wearing slacks, closed toe pumps on her feet, worn without hose.
"On your knees," she demanded. "Perhaps a little humiliation will give you the incentive you need to start doing some decent work here."
Eric dropped to his knees, and as he did so, Amanda placed her shoe against his chest, tapping the toe of her shoe up against his chin before slapping it against his cheek.
"This is about all the respect you deserve today," she mused, still eyeing him over her glasses. "Kiss my shoe," she ordered peremptorily.
He kissed the side of her shoe.
"The sole," she corrected.
He felt utterly degraded as he kissed the sole of her shoe.
"Do your job, and you won't have to degrade yourself again. Though, from what I heard, you love smelly, dirty feet."
She tapped his face again with the sole of her shoe before replacing it with the other shoe.
"Kiss it," she demanded and apologize for being a stupid boy.
He kissed the sole of her shoe as she held it over his mouth. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" she asked.
"For being a stupid boy," he replied, humiliated by the words.
Amanda flashed a smile. She was enjoying this, thought Eric. He was beginning to resent her.
"Ask to rub my feet," she demanded.
"Can I rub your feet?" he asked.
"You think rubbing my feet will make things again? It won't. But I suppose it's a start. Fine. You can rub my feet. But do a good job."
Using his face, she pried off the pump and wiggled her pungent toes near his face. Taking her foot in his hands, he began to squeeze and press. She moaned, her eyes closed.
"Oh, I needed that."
He enjoyed pleasuring a woman, but she was his boss and she'd coerced him into it. It was upsetting, to say the least.
Her foot had a musky, fetid aroma; not awful but she clearly sweated a lot in her shoes. He tried not to smell them as he slid his fingers up and down her sole.
He grabbed her other foot to do the same but she reminded him he was far from done with the first one. She had him rubbing her first foot for at least fifteen minutes before offering him the other one.
"Ask for it," she insisted.
"Can I rub your other foot?" he asked.
"Lick the sole of my shoe first," she ordered.
He hesitated, but he wanted this humiliation over. He quickly applied his tongue to the sole of her shoe before pulling it off, her sharp, pungent odor wafting to his nose.
Another fifteen minutes of foot massage and Amanda was slumped back in her chair.
"Mnn. You did good. Now why don't you get me a cup of coffee. Extra sugar. And go home. Tomorrow's another day."
Eric got to his feet. Now he was her errand boy. He walked outside, thinking he'd ask Steph to bring the coffee, but Amanda's assistant was already gone for the day. He had no choice but to make it himself. She could humiliate him today, but he wouldn't let it happen again. His work would be faultless from now on.
There was still a commotion in the breakroom. Upon opening the door, Jenna, Kylie and Allie from the copywriter section were sharing a laugh with the three interns. Upon seeing Eric, the room fell silent. The five seconds it took to walk to the coffee machine were uncomfortable but he'd keep to the purpose.
"So," said Jenna as she stepped behind him, her hand to his lower back. "We were wondering. The question of the day. Boxers or briefs."
Eric flushed red at the intrusive question. What business was it of theirs?
"I'm just getting some coffee," he explained.
"Oh, come on. Don't leave us dangling."
The interns giggled at the awkwardness.
It was his plan to ignore her, but when he felt her arms reaching around him, her fingers fumbling for his belt buckle, he lurched free.
"What are you doing?" he yelled.
"Well, if you won't tell me, I'll find out myself," was Jenna's bold reply. She seemed hell-bent on finding out, reaching for Eric's pants as he backed away.
"Boxer briefs," he told them. The women chuckled at the news.
"I don't believe you," said Allie who stepped next to Jenna. "Prove it."
"I don't have to prove anything," he yelled, deciding it was best to leave.
"Around here you do," answered Allie, grabbing him by the shoulder as he walked past. He pulled free of her, but Jenna was once again grabbing at his belt buckle. He pushed her arm away, but Allie and Kyle were still grabbing him.
"Come on girls," yelled Kylie. "Help us out."
The interns hesitated a moment, as surprised by the situation as was Eric. He struggled to free himself of them before the interns joined in, but they were already blocking his path.
"Just get his arms," yelled Jenna, smiling mischievously as she began unfastening Eric's belt. He tried pulling away again, but the interns were already holding tight. He walked, but with Kylie now grabbing at his legs, he was about to lose his balance. As his body tilted back, the weight of everyone pulling at his arms, send him down to the floor in a tumble of limbs, the girls giggling and squealing delightedly as they toppled on top of him.
Jenna had already unbuttoned his pants and, unzipping them, began tugging them down his legs, to the cheers of the others. He could feel the warmth of the blood rushing to his face.
They had their hands all over him, someone squeezing his buttocks and someone else pinching him.
"Well, looks like he was right. Boxer briefs."
He kicked at Jenna, knocking her back. Furious, she turned to one of the interns and pointed to the pants around his ankles. "Hold his legs," she told her before pulling off his shoes. The two of them managed to work his pants over his feet, despite his helpless flailing.
Holding his pants aloft, Jenna laughed. "Looks like someone isn't doing a very good job of holding on to their belongings."
Kylie and the others loosened their grip, Eric quickly jumping to his feet.
"Give me those back," he barked. He was humiliated but angry. He reached for his pants but she tossed them to someone behind him. The girls chuckled as they spread out around the kitchen area, clapping as they tossed his pants to one another.
Once Jenna got them back, she ran to the door with them. Eric leapt after her, but she was out the door before he could grab her. He hesitated, unsure who was still outside.
He peeked outside but saw no one. It was late and everyone likely went home. He saw Jenna tossing his pants across the room toward the reception area.
She returned gleefully.
"You shouldn't have kicked me," she said, glowering as she returned to the kitchen, the girls cheering her return.
As someone grabbed him from behind, he decided to make a run for it. He darted across the room, but Nikki had noticed the pants just outside her door and emerged to pick them up. She grinned. Gazing up, she saw Eric.
She offered his pants to him, still smiling.
"So instead of getting me a coffee, you take your pants off?" asked Amanda, appearing at her door.
"The copyrighters were just having a little fun with him," explained Nikki. The laughter from the break room was unmistakable.
"I have him do a simple task and he can't get it done," said Amanda to herself. "Well, try to keep your pants on here, Eric. I'm expecting you to be more professional than that."
Eric was too humiliated for words. He just wanted to hide in his office and never come out again.
As Amanda returned to her office, Nikki grinned. "You really can't let them get away with anything. The more you let them take, the more they'll want. It's a slippery slope."
"They jumped me," he explained, unable to look her in the eye as he put his pants back on.
"Well, you got off easy. They'd be happy to strip you naked if you let them. So be warned."
Nikki returned to her office, leaving Eric to ponder her words.
"He did take my socks," said Allie as she emerged from his office, the crusty old sweat socks in her hand. "What a perv."
"Guess you really do live stinky feet, huh Eric," said Jenna with a smirk as she stood outside the kitchen door.
What had he done to deserve such degrading treatment? He remembered his shoes, which were still in the kitchen. But he feared what the girls would do to him if he went back. So he decided to head home without them. He knew Jenna and the others were laughing about him as he walked out, but he tried to ignore them.
It took every ounce of resolve and courage to motivate himself to return to work the following morning. How could he work with people who'd humiliated him? Was the money he earned really the psychological trauma?
He walked directly to his office, intent on impressing Amanda with the quality of his work. It was Dana who walked into his office without knocking, thrilled about something.
"I've got some really good news," she told him. Expecting good news about his job, he listened intently. He could use good news.
"Well, I was talking to my friends about the whole smelly foot thing and they're totally jazzed about it. I had no idea how they'd react 'cause we'd never done anything kinky with feet, but they're all one hundred percent in. No one hesitated. They were all like. Ok. So when do we do this guy? I mean they would have been thrilled to play with you regardless, but when I told them about what you did for Jen they were really excited and were wondering like how smelly is smelly and can we get our feet as smelly as we like. I haven't seen them so excited about something in months. I'm so glad I asked. I really had no idea how they'd react. I didn't expect them to be so enthused about it. So there you have it. You've got some fans you haven't even met yet and all because you worked Jen's feet just like she asked you to."
"I'm really not interested," he said. This whole joke was going too far and if he had to be blunt to put it to rest, so be it.
"Oh, don't be silly. It'll be loads of fun. We always have a pretty wild time and they'll be getting the maximum fun out of you, I promise. You've got to stop worrying about things, let go and have fun. I mean what happened with Jen was just a little good fun. Maybe a little more of that'll do you good. So you'll stop being so doom and gloom and taking things so seriously."
She leaned in close, a hand to his shoulder. She could be so sweet about the most perverse things. "You just have to show up, Eric. Nothing more's required of you. We'll take care of the rest. The less you worry, the more fun you'll have."
"I just need to be alone," he said, trying to turn her down in the nicest way possible.
"You won't last here on your own. You're part of a team, and the more you have fun with the rest of the team, the easier it'll be. Don't fight it, go with it."
Dana took a hand to his face and tapped his cheek. "Well, I just wanted to let you know that my friends can't wait to meet you, make you an honorary member of our group and have some stinky foot fun with you. And, knowing them, they'll go all out for you and get their feet super smelly to make it a truly memorable night. Anyway, I'll make arrangements and keep you posted."
"I don't want to smell anyone's feet," he explained.
"Which is precisely why you should. Clearly you've got a hang up about the whole thing. But you'll never get over it by avoiding it. My friends and I will help you deal with it head on with plenty of extra ripe feet in need of your attentions."
She poked him in the chest as she stood up.
"I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm not letting you say not to a fun time. Besides, everyone's on board and super excited. I'd never get them worked up about something and then let them down. Everyone really, really wants to do this with you so we'll have a good showing. We'll probably get some newbies who find out and want to have some fun with it too. Anyway, I'll keep you posted when I firm up a date and time."
She didn't give him a chance to object before she left his office. Did no one take no for an answer?
A few hours later, Eric got a message from Jen.
"My feet are hot and nasty. Where's that sweet mouth of yours?"
He ignored the remark. He would ignore all mockery.
"Same shoes again," said the next instant message. "Feet still unwashed. They need a good cleaning." He still ignored her.
It couldn't have been twenty minutes later when Chelsea knocked and walked in, taking a seat on his desk and crossing her legs. Her fingers grazed the length of her booted foot.
"You never came back," she said with a sultry voice, her gaze fixed on him. "Liz has been asking about you."
"I told her I was busy," he said, leaning back. He didn't want to encourage Chelsea's attentions, but she took a hand to his chest, her fingers slipping through the crease.
"She said you weren't half bad with her feet. Your sniffing needed some work. Your foot cleaning lacked a little pizazz. But all in all, not bad at all."
Chelsea turned until her boots swung over his desk on either side of him.
"I told her a little training is all you need, and that you could practice on my feet any time."
Chelsea raised one boot until it her heel was resting on his leg.
"Jen's suite is pretty discrete. You could come by and stay as long as you want. The only condition is our feet in your face."
Eric tried rolling his seat back, but Chelsea already had both booted feet on his lap, the toe of her boot inching towards his crotch.
"My feet are still roasting in these boots, and I've pretty much been wearing them since I saw you last. I'll keep 'em roasting until you're ready to release them."
Chelsea again let her fingers graze the length of her boot.
Eric tried standing up, but Chelsea pushed him down with her boots and recrossed her legs, the toe of her boot close to his face.
"I'm keeping them oh so smelly for you," she purred, her booted foot slipped towards his crotch. He lurched back and got to his feet.
"It was all a mistake. I shouldn't have come by. You know it was all a joke, right? Or is this still part of the joke?"
"It was a joke for some, but some of us, like Jen and me, we love it. She knows good foot worship and so do I. Sure, you need some work but I bet you'll be really good at it. And you can learn using my feet, anytime you like. It's a nice hot, pungent, extra ripe pair of feet you need. And my feet always smell. I promise you that. So come by and stay a while."
Chelsea leaped down from the desk and adjusted her dress, her knees and solid calves filling out her boots.
"I'll keep 'em sweaty for you," she said.
"Not today," he answered.
"I see. Four days of foot funk isn't enough. You're bold. I like that." Chelsea stepped close. "Well, they're getting riper by the day. You come by when they're ripe enough for you."
She surprised him by giving his crotch a squeeze before turning on her heels and walking from the room. She wasn't beautiful yet she was assuredly sexy. He just had no interest in her feet.
"Oh," she said, peering back into the room. "Jen does want to see you. Right now if you're not in the middle of something."
He was in the middle of something; then again, he didn't want to get on Jen's bad side, just in case she had a bad side.
He waited for Chelsea to walk away before leaving his office and heading to Jen's office suite. Chelsea was there, her boots up on her desk.
She beckoned him close and whispered. "Whatever you do to her feet, you do for mine."
"I'm not doing anything with her feet," he tried to explain. He'd have to explain the same thing to Jen. A line had to be drawn.
"Well, you still owe me at least an hour of foot worship, though you can enjoy my feet as long as you want."
She winked at him as he walked to Jen's door and knocked.
"Come in," she told Eric, and he did as he was asked.
"Close the door," she told him, as she stood before him, leaning against his desk. She grinned. "I hope we didn't get off to the wrong foot, so to speak."
She approached, standing before him, her hand to his shoulder as if she were thinking of kissing him. "I really enjoyed what you did the other day. Believe me. Foot worship is one my favorites. They know I like it and don't get enough of it; but they wanted to have a little fun with it, so they offered to send you over if I was willing to get my feet extra smelly, which I did happily. I just never had a guy do my feet when they were so filthy and rank. And I didn't realize how much I'd love it. I really enjoyed working them in your face like that. Maybe you didn't enjoy it as much but it was the best hour I had all week. Maybe all month."
"I don't want to do this," he said, stepping away.
"Alright then, let me put in terms you understand," she said as she turned back to her desk. "You smelled my feet because you thought I could help you keep your job. Well, frankly I can. I can also be instrumental in getting you booted out of here."
Jen turned and smiled. Eric couldn't return the smile, not when he was being blackmailed.
"I think we can have a great relationship. You come here once maybe twice a week, worship my feet and then go on your way. We don't have to talk. You just get under my desk and do what you did to my feet two days ago."
"And if we don't?"
"I want you to stay, Eric. I really do. But what's in it for me? What's my incentive?"
Eric didn't have an answer.
"You want to thrive here. That's fine. But I get to have some fun with it."
She walked around her desk and took a seat.
"Do we have an understanding?"
Eric nodded, unable to think of a diplomatic way out.
"Well, what are you waiting for," she said gesturing him over. "When you enter, you'll come straight over here and lay down with your face there so I have easy access. When I'm done, you can get up and leave. But I'll tell you when you're done. By the way, your foot smelling was a little half-assed last time so we'll work on that today. And no, my feet aren't going to smell any better today. Same shoes. Same unwashed feet. Two days of extra sweat."
Eric laid himself down at her feet, his face her Klogs. She promptly lifting her legs until her shoes were resting on his chest.
"Now I don't want dainty, reluctant sniffs, I want big greedy sniffs like you can't get enough of smelling my foot funk."
Within seconds, she'd pried off her first shoe, her hot, greasy foot planted firmly on his face, her toes clamped over his nose. The putrid smell was even more nauseating than before as she wiggled her thick grubby toes. He could see flecks of dirt between her toes and under her toenails which gave off a sharp cheesy odor.
"Now smell my feet, boy," she ordered as he breathed deep.
"Better," she observed, sliding her sweaty toes up and over his nose, the ball of her foot pressed against his nostrils as she had him inhale again and again.
Her feet smelled worse than before and yet it was somehow more tolerable, as if he'd almost come to accept it. He gave her all the enthusiasm he could muster. And then there was still the other foot to sniff.
The second rush of foot stink knocked him flat, as she began sliding two damp, sweaty feet all over his face, her cheesy toes up against his nostrils as she demanded that he do a better job.
Somehow her feet were almost as filthy as before, although the callouses weren't as rough. The task was nowhere near as arduous as it was before, though he was still feeding on particles from her soles and from between her toes.
He must have made a face because she smacked his face hard with her foot. "Remember the rules, boy," she yelled.
For twenty minutes, he licked and sucked, at one point each foot shoved into his mouth as she had him work his tongue her toes. She moaned and smiled, taking pleasure in everything.
As he cleaned one foot, she slipped the other one under his shirt, her cleaned toes gliding over his chest and stomach; and when he turned his attentions to give her a foot rub, she continued letting her other foot play over his face and chest.
Just when he thought he was done, she chuckled to herself as she retrieve a shoe from the floor and placed it over his face so he could breathe inside it. The sharp, putrid aroma was eye-watering, but she hid him breathe it in for what felt like forever. And then she switched shoes, his mouth and nose completely covered by the shoe opening so it was all he could breathe in: the heavy, rotten stench of her well-worn Klogs.
"And when you're done, you'll get on your knees before me, kiss both of my feet and thank me for letting you worship them."
It was ridiculous, but words were nothing compared to clean her filthy feet with his mouth. He kissed her feet and thanked her for letting him worship her feet.
"When I want you back here, I'll have Chelsea arrange it. And, by the way, she thinks that anything I get, she should get. So she's gonna have you answer to her for two hours of foot worship. And if you thought my feet smelled awful, she's a pro when it comes to foot funk."
"Do you expect me to do her feet too?"
"Like I said, that's between you and her. But she is pretty insistent. Alright, I've got work to do. No more distractions."
With Jen turning her back to him, Eric walked to the door and stepped outside.
Chelsea was waiting for him, her legs crossed up on the desk. Next to her was Val, pleased to see Eric emerge from Jen's office.
"Is everyone getting foot rubs here but me?" said Val.
"Not me," said Chelsea. "Not yet anyway."
"Well we should have a policy that's fair, so everyone gets a chance," insisted Val. "I'll talk to Jen about it."
Was there no end to this madness? thought Eric as he walked from the suite. Val grabbed him by the arm. "Wait a minute you."
"I have a pretty hard working team in accounts and I'd like to take care of them so why don't we fit in a time when you can come by and give some nice foot rubs for our team. You being our resident foot massage expert. Today's Friday, which would be a nice treat if you can come by. Why wait until next week? Why don't we say four o'clock? They won't be expecting foot rubs this afternoon and they've been working so hard."
"I don't know if I can," he said, longing for the safety of his office.
"I'll bring it up with Jen. We can arrange someone else to help with whatever you're working on. Do you have a deadline today?"
"Not today," he answered, though he still had his work cut out to make a better impression on Amanda.
"Oh, well, then you can make. We'll see you at 4:00."
Eric shook his head but he was at a loss for words.
"And don't tell my team," Val told Chelsea. "It's gonna be a surprise."
"My lips are sealed," answered Chelsea as Eric slipped outside. He had no intention of rubbing the feet of the girls in accounting. He'd leave early if need be.
Returning to his office, he realized it wasn't worth the risk of staying longer than necessary. Knowing his luck, someone would be pestering him for something he should never have been expected to give, so he packed his things up and slipped out a rear staircase.
The weekend gave Eric plenty of time to reflect on his situation. He'd secured his footing at the firm, though that may have been contingent on smelling Jen's feet from time to time. Could he live with that? He could, though it was his hope she'd lose interest.
He was in control of his fate, not the women at the pr firm. He could leave anytime.
Monday morning began auspiciously. He heard good reports form the weekend event for his client, and a meeting of the account executives revealed he was keeping up nicely.
As usual, Amanda was less enthused about his performance. He'd been expecting her congratulations when she called him into her office later that Monday morning. Instead, she raked him over the coals.
"Well, there were enough mix ups on Friday evening and you were the source. You were supposed to keep everyone in sync so I can't blame anyone but you for the confusion."
"I thought it went well," he said.
"Because I fixed everything after your complete incompetence. Can't you do anything right?"
"I thought I double checked everything," he answered weakly, his mojo all but vanished.
"Well, we'll have to triple check. Are you smart enough to do this job or are you just another dumb jerk who could never keep up with us?"
"I ..." he began, trying to think of an excuse, though he wasn't sure what went wrong.
"Drop your pants," she barked.
"Do you have a hearing problem too?" she roared. "I said drop your pants."
"Why?" he asked.
"Do you really have to ask why? I give you clear instructions and you ask why even though you're this close to getting escorted out of here."
Eric hesitated. He couldn't believe she was serious.
She sprang to her feet and approached, adjusting her glasses before grabbing his belt. "Drop ... your ... pants ... down to the ankles."
Eric couldn't do it. But it was Amanda who grabbed him by the belt and tugged.
"Do I have to do everything for you?" she demanded as she undid his belt and, unbuttoned his fly and unzipped his pants before giving them a slight tug. They fell down, Eric blushing with shame."
"Viola," said Amanda with a dismissive shake of the head. "Was that so difficult?"
Resuming her seat, she scrutinized him over her glasses. "Now how does that feel?"
"Humiliating," he told her. He couldn't look her in the eye.
"Exactly," she replied with a grin. "Now shuffle over here and drop to your knees."
He shuffled like a penguin, his pants still at his ankles, before dropping to his knees near her chair. She swiveled and with one of her patent leather heels, slammed it against his chest before raising the sole of the other shoe to his face. She began wiping it all over his face.
"This is about how much respect I have for you right now," she informed him with a half-smile.
"Now stick out your tongue," she barked. He did as she asked.
As she began sliding the sole of her shoe over his tongue, she chuckled. "No, not much respect at all, you shoe licking dumbass. You were supposed to stand tall and proud and here you are without your pants licking the soles of my filthy shoes."
She then switched shoes and wiped the sole of the other shoe over his tongue. "I don't know how much lower you can get, but there's still room to drop. I'd suggest you shape up soon."
Kicking off a shoe, she pressed her nylon foot over his face, toes clutching his nose. "So what's all this foot smelling I'm hearing about. You like smelling stinky feet?"
He tried turning her head, but her warm nylon toes were clamped securely over his nose. The pungent stench was more powerful than before, a hint of milky sourness coupled with worn leather.
When he inhaled her foot odor, she chuckled again.
"Now I see why they like it," she mused. "It's kind of fun. You like that smell?"
He inhaled again. It was better than being yelled at.
She began rubbing her nylon sole over his face before pushing his face back and dropping her foot to the ground. "You're probably enjoying that too much."
"Well, pull up your pants and get back to work," she barked as she eyed him with a scowl.
Eric quickly leapt to his feet, pulled up his pants and ran to the door.
"Robyn will be back tomorrow and I want to make sure we're all making a good impression."
Eric stepped outside, relieved to be out of earshot. As usual, Steph, grinning as if she'd overheard everything. He turned away and walked back to his office.
He had a good chunk of the afternoon to work on his accounts: making calls and filling out reports. By 4:00, he got an email marked urgent. It was from Jen asking him to hurry to her office suite. He was in no mood for her horrid, cheesy feet, but he didn't have much choice.
Upon entering, the door slammed. Chelsea was nowhere to be found but there were three women, moderately attractive and medium build, standing around with arms crossed.
"You come when Jen calls, is that it?" asked Val, stepping from behind him.
Eric figured these were the women from accounting, the ones he'd stood up when he left early for the weekend.
"I'm sorry about Friday. Something urgent came up."
"A promise was a promise," said Val, standing before him, hands at her hips. She was seething.
"Where's Jen?" he asked, turning to her door. The hostility of the room was unnerving.
"Out today, and Chelsea is on an errand. It seems she's been getting her feet hot and sweaty for you all week and you've been blowing her off. You've been blowing a lot of people off."
"Who do you think you are?" demanded Leslie, mid-twenties and amply built, her feet stuffed into a tight pair of low heel pumps.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Do you want those foot rubs?" he asked.
"Foot rubs?" asked Val. "That all you're willing to give us when you're licking dirty feet, smelling stinking feet, nose to toes. And all you offer us are some foot rubs. Why don't we get our feet worshipped too? You like smelly feet but you think we put in long hours here and our feet don't stink? You think we wouldn't have fun having you smell them? We can get our feet just as ripe, maybe more so; so if anyone's feet should be in your face it should be ours. We work hard and we deserve some fun too."
"They didn't give me a choice. I never wanted to smell their feet."
"But you did," said one of the assistants, Stacey, standing tall in her flats. The girls weren't overweight but they were sporty and solidly built. "You're smelling their feet. Why not ours? Are we not good enough?"
"Just Jen and Amanda," he explained, but there was no convincing them.
"Liar," shouted Kelly, the mousy one, barefoot in high heel loafers. He was beginning to notice their footwear, the more they spoke of him smelling their feet. He couldn't believe it was happening.
A fifth woman in Converse sneakers was standing in front of the door, arms crossed. She was a tall girl, her arms crossed. There was no escaping. Diplomacy was required.
Val, in a shirt, leggings and booties, grabbed Eric by the arm. "Give us one good reason why we should wait to get our feet serviced and everyone else gets theirfeet worked on?"
Eric was at a loss.
"Get him, girls," she said, stepping aside as the other four converged on him, grabbing and pulling him as they kicked at his knees, yanking him to the floor and holding him down.
"Stop this. I can rub everyone's feet and ..."
Val produced a roll of duct tape and pulled a piece off before applying it to his mouth.
Pulling off a long piece, she wound it around his wrist, tying him to the foot of Chelsea's desk. She did the same for the other one.
Eric was furious, squirming all he could; but it was no use. The girls were strong and they were determined to punish him for something.
Once Val duct taped his ankles together and tied them to a chair, she sat on the chair and gazed down at him. The women looked pleased as they gazed down at him.
He tried to squirm free but it was no use.
"We don't just want foot rubs, boy," she said, resting her feet on his chest. "We want it all, full hot, sweaty feet in your face worship and we're going to get it all. You're going to do the right thing and smell the feet of these hard working women and you're going to clean them spotless, just like you've been doing for the others."
The other women clapped and cheered. "Right on," chirped Vanessa, the tall girl with the big feet.
"We want what's fair. You worship smelly, dirty feet. Today you worship our smelly, dirty feet. Right ladies?"
The women cheered.
"We planned this Friday, so we've had plenty of time to get our feet nice and ripe, right?"
"But first, you take care of Chelsea. She told us how you've been ignoring her and how she's been asking you time and time again. Well, she won't be waiting any longer. You're gonna smell her feet and when you're done, you'll do our feet too. Got it?"
Eric hated them, even before they began stepping on him and pressing their dirty soles over his face. It was contempt, and he did nothing to deserve it.
"She's coming," someone remarked and the room ran, en masse, from the room.
They left him alone, but he couldn't manage to extricate himself from the tape. He could barely move, his arms spread eagle and his legs under the chair.
A door opened and someone gasped. It was Chelsea.
He could see her booted feet step close, as she reached for something on her desk. They'd left her a note.
"Sorry I played so hard to get," she read. "But I was only waiting for the right time. Your feet have been getting sweaty through the week. I could have waited longer, but it wasn't fair to you. The women in accounting have helped me out so I could smell your feet as much as you like. Though I promised to worship their feet too, so hopefully you can share me."
"That's so sweet," she said, slumping onto the chair, crossing her booted feet on his chest. "I thought you were ignoring me."
Eric tried to speak through the duct tape, hoping she'd let him go, but she seemed uninterested in his moaning as she began unfastening the clasps on her boots.
"I've been waiting for this for so long," she mused with a grin. "I knew you were a true stinky foot connoisseur."
Eric grunted through the tape, but there was no communicating with Chelsea, who continued the laborious process of unfastening and loosening her boots.
And then he smelled it. The stale, aroma of ratty sneakers and crusty gym socks, something redolent of an old locker room with a hint of aged French cheese. She proudly unsheathed a bare foot, creased from being wedged inside the boot for so long, flecked with dirt from the rotting leather, her soles blackened and her toenails probably filthy too, though her black nailpolish would have concealed it.
Chelsea gleefully slammed her slender and wrinkled size 10 foot down on his face, her toes long and squirmy as they cupped his nose and squeezed.
"Mmmn. Smell that."
The stench up close was beyond foul: old sweat and vinegar, enough to make his eyes water. With his mouth gagged, he had no choice but to inhale deep and long. He coughed and in the struggle to catch his breath, inhaled again and again.
"That's it. That's how to smell my stinky feet."
Chelsea let her sweaty, filthy foot slide over his face, her toes finding his nostrils, pressing up against them with a rush of warm cheese.
Her first foot was soon joined by the other one, as she curled her long, hot toes over his nose and told him to keep smelling them. The fetid stench was bad enough, but her soles and heels were really filthy as she dangled them over his face before once again working them all over his face.
At times, her size 10 feet covered his entire face as she encased him in the odor of her dirty bare feet. Every moment, he was expecting her to peel off the tape, but she left it, insisting that he keep smelling her feet which remained nauseatingly pungent. And every now and then, the stench turned to sharp cheese, which made him sick.
"Time to get these bad girls cleaned," she remarked as she reached for the tape over his mouth. It was then that the phone rang. She answered.
"Yes," she said to the receiver. "Oh yeah. He's still here. Smelling my feet. He wanted to invite you lot over before you left for home. Yeah. Of course. See you soon."
Chelsea hung up the phone. "Looks like we'll have company," she said as she returned the boots to her feet. "I'll keep 'em fresh until we resume."
Barely a minute past before the women from accounting were pulling up chairs and resting their feet on his body. It wasn't long before there were six women, including Chelsea, with their shoes on his body. Val's booties were resting on his cheeks.
Some of the women were chuckling about the stench from Chelsea's feet.
"Sorry about that," said Chelsea. "It was only meant for him."
"If only we could end every work week like this," noted Val as she used his face to pry off her bootie, a wrinkled nylon sole, size eight or so, hovered over his face momentarily before pressing down over his nose.
"Smell my feet," she demanded, pressing her warm, sweaty nylon toes down hard over his nose. It was a musty stink, suggestive of corn chips and cheetos. He could feel her anger as she continued to grind her foot down on his face, unleashing her other sweaty nylon first to pummel his face with two feet. The other women, except for Chelsea, applauded, seeming to relish Val's brutality.
Cupping both of her nylon feet over his nose, Val again ordered him to smell her feet. "I wore the same nylons yesterday."
"Imagine wearing them all week and having him smell them," suggested Chelsea. 'Doesn't it feel awesome when you feel him breathing that cool air through your toes."
"I just like my feet all over his face," said Val as she continued to grapple at his nose with her toes, her heels over his eyes. Now and then, she'd stun him by slapping his face hard.
"My turn" yelped Veronica the big girl in the Converse sneaks, who was seated next to Val on Eric's right. With Val's nylon feet perched atop his forehead, Vanessa pulled off one of her sneakers, a sweaty size 12 foot flexing before dropping on Eric's face. Her long toes were strong as they squeezed at his cheeks and then curled over his nose.
"Smell my feet, stupid," said Veronica. The others giggled at the insult. "He's like totally smelling my feet," she said, pleased with herself.
Her toes smelled of nachos and cheese, with a musty after scent of old sneakers. Her foot was large and she soon followed suit, sliding it all over Eric's face before holding her toes over his nose and demanding more sniffs.
"You know he has no choice but to smell," reminded the heavier-set Kelly.
"It's fun to tell him," said Veronica. "He so deserves it." The others voiced their agreement.
It wasn't long before Veronica had both her huge bare feet on his face, cupping both over his nose as she left him to breathe in her odor. He inhaled again and again, less humiliated than concerned about being able to breathe, appreciating every stale and cheesy breathe he could pull into his lungs.
The women had begun conversing amongst themselves, almost forgetting Eric was there, Val occasionally giving his face a smack with her foot while Val kneaded her sweaty feet into his face. Everyone continued to use him as a footrest, Chelsea with one booted between his legs, occasionally tapping his crotch.
Leslie, seated at Val's left, pulled off one of her high heel loafers, worn with a threadbare pair of hose, and brought a size 6 foot down on his face.
"This is great," she remarked as she rubbed her nylon foot over his face. "He does deserve it, huh?"
"It could have been a few footrubs on Friday," noted Val. "But he wanted to go full hog and really appreciate our hot, sweaty feet up close and over the nose."
It was Leslie's cue to slide her nylon toes over Eric's nose and demand he smell them, though she thought it silly to ask him to do what he had to do.
The smell was acrid and vinegary, her nylons soaked with sweat as she took to sliding both of them over his face, Veronica and Val now and then sneaking their feet in to get a few quick sniffs.
Fifteen minutes later, the chairs were pulled close around Eric's face as Kelly, without her pumps, and Stacey, sans flats, were also treating themselves to what they called "much deserved foot smelling."
"Now he can appreciate the smell of all our hard work," noted Stacey with her filthy size 8's pressed over his face. "Maybe we can do this again when our feet really smell bad."
"This is why you keep commitments," reminded Val. He needed no reminding. The punishment was severe and thorough. Their feet were already sufficiently foul, so there was no need to get them 'really smelly.'
It was Kelly who first thought to make Eric smell inside her shoes, her old pumps turned upside over his nose. "Those pumps reek, by the way."
Her pumps smelled worse than her thick-soled size 10 feet which smelled especially sharp and cheesy, almost painfully so. The pumps were putrid and musty, and she pressed it down over his face with her bare foot, as he breathed in the sickening stench while the women chuckled about his predicament.
"This is great," noted Val. "We're really having a great time."
"And we didn't let him get away with ignoring us," said Leslie. "We deserve this and he knows it."
"How about we get our feet cleaned?" suggested Chelsea with a grin. Everyone cheered.
Eric was relieved, not because he wanted to lick their feet but he was desperate to take a full breath through his mouth. He would clean all their filthy feet, just to breathe normally.
It was Chelsea who tore off the duct tape. The pain was nothing compared to the relief of filling his lungs with air.
He'd barely taken one breath when Val began shoving her nylon toes into his mouth. They were tart and vinegary.
"Suck on those," she ordered.
Eric didn't have much choice, as Val plunged her foot deep into his mouth, his tongue against the nylon fabric as she wiggled her toes in his mouth. She clamped the other toes over her foot over his nose so he was inhaling her scent while he fed on her feet.
The other women were shifting position, sliding their feet over his face and curling filthy, cheesy toes over his nose for sniffs while Val took turns pushing her nylon feet into his mouth.
"This feels great, by the way," noted Val, her eyes closed. "You're gonna love getting your toes in his warm mouth."
The women giggled as they peered overhead, all smiles as they watched Val feed him her feet.
In short order, the others proceeded to force their filthy heels and grubby toes into his mouth. Kelly was especially demanding about him cleaning her solid feet although her feet were the filthiest.
"I can't believe he has to clean them," noted Veronica, her long toes pressed against his cheek as she awaited her turn.
"He had a chance to rub them Friday," said Val.
"I'm glad he flaked," said Kelly, as she pressed her toes into his mouth. "We wouldn't get to teach him a lesson."
"I'll teach him this lesson anytime," said Leslie who made Eric clean the dirt and lint from between her toes and lick our toughened heels smooth.
Veronica's feet were huge and it was a struggle to fit five of her toes in his mouth, but she was determined to get them all in his mouth.
"Suck my toes," she ordered. His mouth was full of her sweaty, foul-tasting feet. He could taste the cheesy nacho aroma.
Val showed Veronica how to get the balls of her feet and heels sucked on and cleaned. She was giving him orders and he complied.
With his face covered in their damp, pungent feet, he barely noticed when Stacy took her turn, one heel over his mouth as she told him to clean it good. And he did. Both her heels. He was surprised how filthy were toes were, and she took great delight in feeding them to him.
When Chelsea removed her feet from her boots, the girls scattered. When the hot, acrid stench of moldy cheese and rotten shoes hit his nostrils, it was easy to see why.
"Your feet stink," noted Val with a chuckle.
"Well, he likes 'em," she said with satisfaction. She grinned as she slid one filthy bare foot and then another back to his face. They were hot and extra sweaty as she worked them into her face before pressing a heel against his mouth.
"These bad girls are ready for their cleaning, Eric," she declared. Some of the other women groaned. Others laughed.
"Well, we should get going," said Val. "Have fun Chelsea."
"Oh, I will," said Chelsea.
"Keep your appointments next time, asshole," said Veronica who gave him a painful kick to the ribs. Leslie and Kelly followed suit, laughing as they pummeled him with their shoes, stepping on him and grinding their feet down on his legs and arms.
"Next time you flake we'll use you as a carpet in our offices," suggested Leslie.
"Have him lick our shoes clean," suggested Stacey.
The women laughed uproariously as they left Jen's office suits, leaving Eric alone with Chelsea.
"Oh, they're so fun," noted Chelsea. Eric didn't know if she was serious or sarcastic. All he could think about was the punishing and nauseating taste of her toes as she pushed them into his mouth.
"You can be my carpet under my desk anytime," she suggested, moaning softly as Eric sucked on her toes, two or three at a time. He hated every minute and yet he wanted to do well, the sooner to get it over with. Once these women had their fun, they'd finally leave him alone.
Chelsea took her time, sliding her foul feet over his face as she told how she wanted them cleaned. And there was a lot to clean, especially between her toes. Wearing her boots without socks so long had left her soles covered in shoe particles which Eric had to swallow.
For a while, Chelsea leaned back, her feet covering his face as she lost herself in thought.
"Oh, shit," she said, bolting upright. "I've gotta be somewhere."
Chelsea hurriedly pulling on her boots, collecting her things and ran to the door.
"I'm tied up," he hollered.
She turned back and, grabbing some scissors, cut one of his arms free, leaving the scissors to do the rest.
"Great foot worship. It was worth the wait."
She winked as she gave his crotch a tender squeeze before standing up and running outside.
Eric was weak, his mouth sore from all the licking and sucking. But he had enough energy to cut his arms and legs free. Light-headed, he waited to stand and then climbed to his feet. At one point, an hour earlier, he'd been furious. Now he was just exhausted. He could only hope their treatment was at an end. Once Amanda was finally on his side, and done with humiliating him, he could demand more respect. He'd wronged no one. If only they could just leave him alone.
At home, he slept soundly. Come Tuesday morning, he was ready to claim the respect he deserved.
Despite the usual knowing grins from the assistants Nicole and Brooke, he spent a few productive hours in his office, sending Amanda some follow-ups regarding a few imminent events. He was careful to review everything several times before sending. She'd be sure to find a few mistakes, but if it were only a few, it would be alright.
Dana opened the door, once again without knocking. Taking a seat in front of him, her rear end on his desk, she grabbed him by the shoulders. She couldn't have looked more pleased.
"I've got fabulous news," she said, beaming, a finger to his chest. "This Friday. I'm taking you to have some fun with my friends. They wanted to see you right away and I told them that good things come to those who wait. Besides, I wanted to give them enough time to get their feet, well, nice and fragrant for you."
"It's OK," he said. "I don't think I can do it."
"We're not taking no for an answer," declared Dana. "Preparations have already begun. Besides, you'll have fun. Well, I hope you do. We ladies will be having a blast with you."
"Seriously Eric. I'm not taking no for an answer. It's happening. This Friday. We'll leave work early which should give us the entire evening to play."
Dana held a finger to his mouth. "You've had a rough week. I know. Adjusting is hard, and you being a boy in a woman's workplace, it's been challenging. It's been a little over your head, perhaps. Which is all the more reason to let go and let me and my friends enjoy you. And boy are they gonna enjoy you. What started as our core group of the five fearless femmes - the posse as we call ourselves - now has twelve commitments. Very enthusiastic commitments and everyone super thrilled about getting their feet ripe and sweaty."
"Please, I ..."
"You'll meet some of them this week. They really want to see you, though they'll have to wait until Friday to get their grabby hands on you. And they are super grabby, but I told you they're a lot of fun and love to joke around."
Eric almost felt a twinge of excitement at the prospect of many women grabbing him and feeling him up, but they were getting their feet filthy and nasty, as if it were what he wanted. Did she really think he preferred that?
"They don't have to get their feet smelly," he suggested, resigned to the meeting but hoping to make it more tolerable.
"But they want to. It's no trouble. Really. It's already happening, anyway. Believe me, they don't do anything they want to do, and when they've got a cute boy to play with, they do everything they want and they all love the idea of making you smell their feet. Trish told me she took her shoes off yesterday and said her feet were already getting pretty whiffy, and that's Monday. Imagine how they'll smell Friday and she's super excited about having you smell them. And she's like ... we do the coolest things. Why didn't we think of doing this to someone before?
Eric felt defeated. It was ridiculous, but would he have to avoid Dana on Friday? And what were the consequences if he did? Hadn't he been punished enough?
"It's gonna be wild," said Dana as she raised her leg, pulling up her pant leg to reveal her hosed leg and her heel. "Needless to say, I'll be wearing the same hose all week."
Getting to her feet, she gave Eric a few playful slaps to his cheek. "We'll help you loosen up. Teach you how to go with the flow. Which is my advice here. Stop fighting it and just have fun. We're enjoying you. Time you enjoyed it too."
Dana gave his butt a gentle pat before shimmying from the room, leaving Eric to wonder why he couldn't get a break. At least, he could avoid Val, the girls from accounting, not to mention the copywriters and interns, as he saw them lingering and chatting in the corridor.
He busily prepared for his afternoon meeting with Amanda, even skipping lunch, as he fired away emails, showing how proactive he could be.
Steph called him into Amanda's office with a smirk. He was fearful yet hopeful.
Closing the door behind him, he prepared to take a seat while Amanda busily typed at a keyboard.
"Don't sit down. Remain standing."
Eric froze, his hand to the chair.
"So," she said, slowly turning to face him, her gaze cold as she sized him up over her glasses. "I asked you to get me up to speed on your accounts. But it seems you couldn't even get straight which one was which. The case numbers are wrong, and I'm beyond disappointed. I thought you were ready to stand tall and proud and take your place here as one of us?"
"I ... I am," he stammered, upset about what could have gone wrong. He'd proofed everything.
"Not enough," she said, shaking her head. "Now drop your pants."
Eric flushed crimson as he observed Amanda scribble over a few letters he'd sent. They were covered in notes, even exclamation marks. How was it he'd failed to meet her standards?
"Well, I don't have all day. Drop your pants. And take off your shirt too while you're at it."
"Maybe I can retype some things. I'll do my best."
"I'll have to have you strip naked if you keep blathering on and on. Now take off your pants and shirt and shut up."
Nervous that someone might walk in, Eric hurriedly removed his pants and began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Hurry up," she said as she gestured to the corner of the office. "And toss them over there."
"I'm really trying to do the best I can," he explained as he removed his shirt.
"Well, it's pathetic. But I need to remind myself you're just a boy trying to do a woman's job and failing miserably."
Standing before her in his dress socks and boxer briefs, he felt foolish, hoping the agony wouldn't be prolonged. Why did she want to humiliate him like this?
To Eric's surprise, Amanda pressed the intercom. "Steph, come in here please."
Eric turned to the corner and grabbed his pants, but Steph was quick to open the door, letting out a yelp of amused surprise.
"Put them down," Amanda told Eric. He dropped his pants.
"Have a seat here," she asked Steph.
"I told you to stand over there, Eric," said Amanda with a sigh. "Do these boys ever listen?" she asked Steph.
"No," said Steph with a chuckle.
Steph was seated in front of the desk, facing Eric. Her amusement at his embarrassment was evident.
"You remember all those reports we had to do," said Amanda. "Well that was his fault. Staying late Friday and Monday. His fault. Now what would you like him to do."
"Anything?" asked Steph, sizing Eric up.
"He imposed on your time too. He owes you. What do you want him to do?"
"Take off your shorts," said Steph with a chuckle.
Eric flushed red again. Clearly a line had to be drawn.
"You heard the lady," said Amanda as imperiously as ever. "Take 'em off."
The women were staring at him expectantly. But he couldn't do it.
"Am I going to have to invite someone else in here?" asked Amanda.
Eric quickly complied, pulling his shorts down to his ankles.
"Either you just went swimming, or you've got an especially small penis," noted Amanda, with a smirk.
Eric instinctively covered his privates.
"Hands behind your back, Eric," yelled Amanda. "What else Steph?"
"More?" asked Amanda with a mischievous smirk, clapping her hands gleefully. "Will he lick my shoes?"
"Tell him," said Amanda. "And Eric, drop to your knees in front of her."
Eric dropped to his knees, his eyes closed as he anticipated the worst. As she thrust the sole of her high heel over his forehead, she chuckled, sliding it over his face.
"Lick the sole," asked Steph decisively.
Eric held out his tongue, wanting his humiliation to be over. Steph pressed the sole of her shoe hard over his tongue, sliding her foot up and down and then switching shoes.
"How much do you respect him now?" asked Amanda of Steph.
"Not much at all," answered Steph with a snort of contempt.
"You see, Eric, what happens when you do substandard work? Our respect plummets until we just feel sorry for you."
"I don't feel sorry for him," said Steph. "He's kind of an idiot, I thought."