Paying the Price

bybyronbgeo©

"I've seen much worse," replied Amber with a giggle.

Amber, a hand to his arm, guided him out to the front room. The man was still bound and gagged to the floor, moaning as he if were desperate to say something.

"What's happening?" asked Ted, nervous. "Look. I can talk things over with her another time. I didn't even do anything wrong. I told her it was someone else she was looking for. I think there's been a misunderstanding. Perhaps there's someone higher up I can talk to?"

Amber glared at him before breaking into a laugh. "That's good. Though you wouldn't be the first guy trying to talk his way out of this."

"Out of what? What is this?"

"Bullshit doesn't work here."

"What bullshit? This is bullshit. You want to laugh at me. Fine. But I've had enough. I mean this is false imprisonment."

"You've got a lot of nerve saying that considering what you've done," said Amber, her voice even but her gaze steely and unforgiving. "Not nearly as bad as some of the assholes we get here, but bad enough. So you're in no position to criticize what we do."

The girl who'd taken his clothes returned to the room. She grinned, her gaze down at his crotch. He covered his dick and balls with his hands.

"Please, we've seen lots of naked men here," said Amber as she gestured him to a far corner. A circle of chairs surrounded a small rug. The other girl giggled.

"Sit down," barked Amber, a hand to his shoulder. He hesitated.

"It makes our job easier when you do what you're told," she explained.

He sat down. "What does she want?"

"You'll figure that out soon enough," answered Amber with a smirk. "Now raise your arms for a few moments, wrists together."

He raised his arms without thinking. "When can I leave?"

He felt something cold on his wrists and then heard a snap. He was going to lower his arms but soon realized he couldn't. Before he could even complain, something pulled him back, down to the floor, his arms pulled straight over his head. His wrists had been cuffed and the cuffs had been attached to some kind of pulley system which held him, straight armed, to the floor.

"Hey, what the fuck," he hollered. "Stop this. I want outta here."

"I'll shove her sock in your mouth if you don't keep it down," she yelled right back to him.

The girl grabbed one of his legs but he kicked her away.

"That's alright, Veronica" said Amber. "I've got it."

Veronica smiled and stood up, gazing at Ted's body as he tried to squirm free of the cuffs. His cock flopping around.

"Sierra says he's here for smelly feet and dirty feet," said Amber, surprisingly matter-of-fact considering what she was saying.

"Awesome," replied Veronica with a chuckle, her eyes brightening.

"So, see who you can round up for that."

"That shouldn't be a problem," answered Veronica, still giggling.

"This is bullshit. You can't do this. You'll all go to jail. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone."

"You're in no position to call the shots here, so beg all you want. If Sierra says you're here to do something, then that's what we'll have you do."

"You do whatever she tells you?" he yelled, sneering with contempt. "What the fuck does she know? This is ridiculous. Why should you go down for what she does to people. She's a blackmailing bitch. Did you know that?"

"She knows what you deserve," answered Amber calmly, "and now I can see for myself. If she puts you down for smell and dirty feet then that's what you get."

"Are you fucking serious? I was just smelling and licking her disgusting feet for like an hour. I'm done."

Amber took a seat and opened the file. She began reading.

"He's difficult, rude and arrogant, she writes. He's unable to set aside a little pride without making a face or complaining. Hopelessly self-involved, I can see how he got involved with this company. He thinks everything is about him. His self-entitlement is so much that he can't even suffer a little indignity without kicking up a fuss and being an all-around selfish prick."

"Bitch," he muttered.

Amber continued reading. "His foot sniffing is weak and his foot cleaning uninspired."

"This isn't happening," he muttered to himself as he began squirming wildly, inadvertently kicking Amber.

She quickly stepped between his legs and pressed a sneaker foot hard against his testicles. He gasped.

"Kick me again and I'll kick you were you'll really feel it."

His anger subsided, overtaken by fear. He was vulnerable and he knew it.

Turning, she reached for something deftly snapped a single cuff down on one of them.

"Hey. Wait," he yelped.

She threw herself over his other leg to hold it down before clipping the other cuff on it. She attached it to the rope and pulled. His legs spread apart, as if he were part of some strange medieval torture device.

"Ok, ok," he muttered, utterly frantic. "Please. Please. I'll do anything else. Whatever it is. I ..."

Amber kicked him in the waist and he gasped. "Shut up, stupid. You actually have it easy. You're lucky. She must have seen a glimmer of hope in you. I can't say that for all the guys. If she has you down for smell and dirty feet, it just means she's confident that with enough foot worship you might ... improve."

She turned to the older man tied to the floor. "He's a hopeless case," said Amber, shaking her head. "So we just lay into him when we can."

Amber stepped away and called down a hallway. "Can we get some of you out here to work Mr. Bielson over?" she hollered.

Amber returned to Ted, pressing her sneakered foot on his stomach. "It's a great place. Would you believe she'd convinced some rich son of a bitch to let us use it, rent free, when she found out he'd been stealing money from his companies. We now have paying clients who come here looking for particular experiences they can't find anywhere else. We just provide them the boys to work on. It makes it easy when dumbfucks like you walk in here looking to talk your way out of all the shit you've done 'cause that means more boys and more potential clients. And there's enough men out here with secrets to hide that Sierra's built up a pretty extensive of boys at her beck and call and, with that, a really solid client base.

"You're pimping me out?" he answered, angrily.

"This isn't sex, stupid, so get that out of your pea-size mal brain," she answered, kicking at him lightly with her sneaker. "Our clients are really cool women with a taste for a different kind of fun. "

"A different kind of fun. Is that what you call this? It's twisted. Smelly feet. Why would you do this?"

Amber grabbed him hard by the testicles and he gasped. She shoved Sierra's foul-smelling sock in his mouth before he could speak a word. He moaned, trying to spit it out. Amber, however, held it over his mouth while she reached for duct tape from under the nearby sofa. She pulled it out and, sitting on his chest, applied the tape to his mouth before reaching in her pocket for a key to cut it.

Being muffled made him furious. He cursed her out but it all sounded like a prolonged moan.

Amber chuckled as she once again stood over him, tapping at his face with her sneaker and sliding it over his cheek. "She was right about you not shutting up. Maybe you can think about being a bigmouth while you suck on her sock."

Just then, a clatter of footsteps ushered the arrival of three young women, giggling loudly as they ran to Mr. Bielson in their clunky heels and jeans. They laughed as they began kicking at him mercilessly, even stepping on him. One of them pressed the sole of her heels over his face while another nudged at his testicles, making him flinch.

Ted gazed on horrified.

Amber leaned down. "That doesn't have to happen to you if you do as you're told," she told him with a fiendish grin. "You're lucky. So far."

The girls were in fits of laughter as they continued to visit indignities upon the poor guy with their feet.

"So would you like to trade places with Mr. Bielson or are you ready for stinky dirty feet?" she asked him.

He nodded eagerly.

"Trade places?"

He shook his head, moaning his objections.

"Stinky feet," she asked.

He nodded his head eagerly.

"Well, that's a promising start," she said, getting up.

Veronica appeared. "Mr. Bielson's three o'clock is here."

"Great. And how are we looking for stinky feet, besides yours, Veronica."

Veronica grinned. "I can have him do my feet?" she asked, glancing at her scuffed Converse, she'd been wearing without socks.

"Sure. If you've got dirty or stinky feet. "

"Yeah, totally" she answered with a chuckle. "I've been stinkin' them up pretty good in my old sneaks."

"And is anyone else on the way?"

"Ah, yeah. You did say smelly and dirty feet so I didn't want to just get anyone. Only if they had like super stinky or dirty feet. But I got about five confirmations who couldn't wait and three who hope to drop by later when their feet were smelly enough."

"That'll work," mused Amber. "Thanks."

"Hey girls," she yelled, turning to the young women walking all over Mr. Bielson. "We've got a few clients coming up to see him momentarily. So we can leave them to it. Any of you have really stinky feet?"

The girls stepped away from Mr. Bielson and approached. Ted could feel his heart beating fast. He was nervous and frightened.

"Sure," said one of the girls, leaping nimbly to Ted's waist. "He's kinda cute."

"Nice penis," said a second girl. "A little small."

The girls broke into raucous laughter.

"We've been in these shoes all day," said a third girl.

"That's not the kind of stinky feet we need, but it's good enough until we get reinforcements," said Amber.

"So we'll just have him smell our feet? What about cleaning them?" asked the first girl.

"Just have him smell them for now. And make sure he's always smelling someone's feet. I'm leaving Veronica in charge."

Two women entered the room with a steady click of high heels. They were in their thirties, and well put together; working professionals, from the look of it. He trusted it was no one he knew. It didn't matter even if they did because they were heading straight for Mr. Bielson.

The women waved to Amber.

"Welcome back," said Amber as she walked off to greet them.

"It's been another day from hell," said one of the women. "Looking forward to letting off a little steam."

One woman smiled as she stepped on Mr. Bielson's chest in her booted heels while the other pressed her shoe over his testicles.

Ted turned away. Veronica was seated on the sofa, gazing down at him. The girls couldn't keep from chuckling as they all rested their shoes on his naked body.

While he heard poor Mr. Bielson groan under the barrage of high-heel abuse, he gazed up at his own eager tormentors as they began pressing their shoes against him. One pair of sneaker heels pressed down on his face. It was Veronica's Converse.

"So, like, we'll take turns just having him smell our feet," she told them as the others tittered in response.

"Doesn't look like he has a choice," said one girl, pointing to the sock gag in his mouth.

Veronica slipped off her sneakers and pressed her warm, steamy size 8 feet down on his face. Her toes clutched at his nose, and he breathed in a noseful of ripe foot stink, warm Nacho cheese and fritos combined with malt vinegar and a hint of sour milk.

"Smell my feet," she ordered, the sweet girl taking command as she began working her feet, sticky with sweat, all over his face, clenching his nose tight with her toes to have them sniffed again and again. They didn't smell as awful as Sierra's grimy toes but it was awful and humiliating enough. Their constant giggling didn't help much.

Half an hour later and all four of them were working his face over with their sweaty bare feet, sweaty toes gliding over his nose and over his face. The pungent stink of their toes had worn off a bit and it was becoming almost relaxing. He could forget they were actually trying to degrade him.

It was then that a woman appeared, tall and attractive, dressed in short shorts and ratty Converse sneakers.

"I heard someone needs stinky feet?" she asked.

The girls cheered, someone calling out "Jerri's back."

"He's the one who needs them," said another girl.

"I know. Amber showed me his file. Stinky dirty feet. Were your feet stinky?"

"A little," said someone.

"Time to get serious about it. I've got a bag in my cubbie with some ziplocked goodies I can try out on him. If it's stinky feet and socks he needs, that's what we'll give him."

One of the girls sprinted off.

"Thanks Veronica. You lot look in control."

"We are and he's been smelling our feet nonstop."

"Alright," said Jerri, slumping in the chair next to Ted's head. "The rest of you can use your feet to hold his head in place. He won't like what I've get sweating away in these shoes, but it's what he needs. Ready to have some fun?"

The girls cheered.

As Jerri rested the soles of her Converse sneaks on his face he could already smell the rotten shoe fabric. The girls had nice enough feet, if slightly pungent, but this Jerri sounded like a real bitch. He couldn't fight it, but he'd endure it, that is until he figured out what it was going to take to make all this stop.

"Let him have a little sniff through the shoe first," she advise the, pressing the toe of her shoe against his nose before pulling up the sneaker a little and holding it close to his nose. "Give him a little taste before giving him the whole foot.

And then he got a whiff. It was stomach churning. Her toes were filthy and calloused and once they were on his face, the warm cheesy stench was nauseating. If this was what it meant by stinky feet, this would take all the endurance he could muster.

Whatever terrible things he'd done, or whatever terrible co-workers did, couldn't justify this. It was cruelty. But he would get answers. And he would make them pay. Sure, they could make him smell and clean their dirty feet, but he'd get the last word, as long as they stopped stuffing dirty socks in his mouth.

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