The Foot Slave Pt. 01

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

---

Things had not started either easily or lightly for Oriel, though the woman with long, flowing locks of blue hair -- one thing that she was, at least, easily able to care for had been born a merchant's daughter. Used to travelling with her family and other merchants, they moved from one place to the next to sell their wares, collecting fine goods from faraway lands, though they had a growing home to return to. After some time, her mother settled at home to raise a family (travelling was tiring, after all, through Vannathas) and her father earned enough money to join her, in the end, sending out other merchants to buy and sell while he owned the company.

It was a fair deal. However, growing up in such an environment did not prepare her for the real world, one that sought to use her and abuse her. Oriel didn't get all that much chance to interact with others beyond the merchant group, much less the anthros, the animals. They walked like humans, mostly, standing on two legs, but it was humans still who were at the bottom of the social ladder.

Oriel understood why her mother kept her close for so many years, the penchant for throwing humans into slavery (of various means) too prevalent in the anthro community. She'd often had to dodge them even in the market, clinging to her mother's skirts, while her mother shielded her with her body.

She'd learned that lesson early on, to stay away from anthros, not to get close to them; one never knew what insidious means they had hidden behind their fangs, after all. And yet she had not learned how to do that and how she was not even safe in public, when she thought she had to be safe, yes, because there were people around, other humans like her. It all depended, in the end, who cared to protect her and, well, there were previous few of those left in the world, frankly.

Of course...she'd slipped up in the end. Someone with her blue hair, well...she was a prize to be taken and anthros wanted humans like her for a very particular, dark need. Only, Oriel ended up in the worst of such places, against her will.

All Oriel had been trying to do had been eating at the tavern, her cloak thrown over her shoulders, keeping a mild, watchful eye out for any trouble. The tavern, before, had been safe for both humans and animals like, but she had had a flagon of ale and her senses were light and tipsy when she left the tavern at a late hour, dress coming down neatly to her ankles. It swished as she walked, covering up the footsteps of a cloaked and hooded figure following her.

She hesitated at the entrance to an alleyway, chancing that she saw something in the blackness -- and then remembered no more as a sharp pain lanced into her skull.

The next thing she knew, she was blinking herself awake with a pounding headache, naked and bare, on a huge bed. Her fingers jumped to her neck, finding a collar around it, one that could not be unbuckled, forever denoting her a slave where it locked, unless, of course, the anthro that owned her chose to set her free again. And why would they do that when human beings were a valuable commodity?

She inhaled shortly and sharply, eyes widening with fear. The bed, the collar, even the chain holding her to the edge of the bed, heavy and unyielding... She knew where she was in the finery of the room, though Oriel had, frankly, never understood why such finery and luxury was needed for a place where such dirty deeds took place.

The brothel. One of the brothels. Yes, that had to be where she was, her heart pounding, a deep, driving ache ringing between her ears, breath tight in a chest that no longer seemed to want to draw air in. She had obviously always avoided the brothels, even though they were numerous throughout the realm, in towns and cities and beyond. Where most were legal, there were worse ones too and it was with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, curling her bare toes, that she thought that, horrifically, perhaps...

...she could have been in one of those.

"No, no, no..."

Oriel muttered to herself, though the words practically died on her lips, they were so quiet. She turned her head slowly, back and forth, realising that her hair too had been cut. That was not good, that was very not good, and there was a horrifically rank smell in the air, clawing at her nostrils, though not even pressing her hand over her face would have stifled it.

"Ugh..."

She hacked and gagged. It was worse than her father's boots after travelling -- by far! Stinking and reeking, it sank into her body as if it was becoming a part of her and, for a moment, Oriel was glad that she didn't have that long hair anymore for it to infuse into also, though that was a small thanks to give, considering the dire nature of the situation that stretched out before her.

She had to get out, somehow, had to find a way to escape.

The wooden bedroom door swung open and Oriel hastened to draw her legs up onto the bed, tucking her knees up close to her body to protect her modesty.

The woman that entered was tall, though not much more than Oriel, slender though -- a rat anthro with long, flowing black hair that looked ever so slightly wavy. Wearing a corset that highlighted her figure and a set of underwear that covered her modesty, Oriel could not help but notice that her bare feet were exposed, tipped with light claws, toes wriggling and dancing across the bare, polished floorboards of the brothel bedroom as if the woman, even then, was trying to draw attention to herself.

"Ah, so glad to see you are awake," the rat said, her eyes narrowing beadily, though there was a sick kind of beauty in her too. "You've been asleep a very long time and you have work to do, girlie. I am Idril, your owner, and you are now a sex slave of the brothel. I would congratulate you, but I suppose you'll need some time to come to terms with the reality of your situation..."

Oriel swore that the rat woman wanted to roll her eyes, though only just managed to hold back. She had that air about her, as if the will of the slaves was beyond even her attention, even if she was the one owning them there and trapping her there. She tapped a quill on a board before her, which held a piece of paper, the quill already loaded with ink.

"Now, girl..." She said, addressing Oriel with an air of superiority. "Your complete obedience to myself and my staff is expected at all times. If you behave, you will be treated well. If you misbehave and do not please clients... You will be treated accordingly."

Oriel scowled, shaking her head.

"No! Why the hell would I do anything for you? You don't own me -- no one will ever own me! My father will come -- my family!"

Idril smiled dangerously, showing her larger, rat-like front teeth. Although her muzzle was long and elegant, there was a scrawniness to it too when the skin along the sides wrinkled. And her short coat of hair was not grey or black or a typical rat colour either, but more of a grey-green, as if she had dyed it. Or maybe that was Idril's natural colour, though it was not as if Oriel was going to ask her at all how it had come to be.

"No one is coming for you, girl. So, you'd best get used to this. You're a sex slave now, dear, and you're always going to be one, as long as you're useful. And this brothel focuses on the best fetish of all -- you won't have heard of the brothel's name, of course. We keep things quiet, selling out our best girls to the right clients for the best price, you see."

Oriel quivered but did not dare ask Idril just what the brothel did. The rat woman grinned, eyes darkening with greed.

"Yes... We focus on feet here, in all their glorious forms. Clean and fresh is hardly the play of the day or the big money maker, but you're going to learn, in detail, how to please so many feet, from the dirtiest to the most aromatic, to the sweatiest too... You have much training to go through, but I think I have some clients set up for you already."

Oriel gaped, stomach falling, a strange sense of light-headedness flowing through her. It felt like she was falling, yet she could still feel the presence of her body right there on the bed, how the mattress and sheets indented lightly under her weight, the cloth of it brushing against her skin in a tactile sense. Of course, the reek of what she then knew to be feet was in the air too, holding her there, shocking her into some kind of new reality -- a reality that she never, ever, not ever, would have chosen for herself.

Yet Oriel was never given the choice. Like so many other abducted and abused humans, though not all of them ended up in the sickest of brothels, she was held to account for the payday of another.

"Please..." She whispered, breaking too quickly, or at least begging, striving to appeal to Idril's better nature. "Please... Don't do this. Please, no... No... I don't want this, I don't want any of this! Let me go -- let me go!"

Her tone twisted into a fair shriek of hysteria, forgetting her nudity, scrambling from the bed and wrenching at the chain. Pain blistered through her shoulders as the collar caught her throat, a cold bite snapping at her neck, but she hauled and hauled and hauled, eyes brimming over with traitorous tears of frustration.

The strike that knocked her sideways clocked her head and shoulder and she was sent sprawling, the hot pain creeping through her a few moments later, as if it had taken that long for her mind to register the blow. Idril stood over her, shaking her head slowly, all presence of a smile, even a wicked one, swept from her face.

"That'll be the end of you, bitch," Idril hissed, "if you ever make such a foolish attempt ever again. Get into line and you'll survive. That's all there is to it, girl, so shape up or I'll let my worst clients do what they will to you."

Sobbing, Oriel clung to the foot of the bed, seeking some sense of stability, something to shelter her, even as Idril strutted from the room, up on the balls of her feet, as if the interaction between them meant nothing at all.

She howled and faded, crying herself into a fitful sort of sleep, as her life and the world she had known crumbled before her eyes.

Still, the reek of feet remained.

She'd grow familiar with it.

*

She was fed but not clothed, not that Oriel had expected that. She was left naked, sometimes in a small, bare room and plain bed, though it seemed that they were allowed mattresses at least, even if they weren't especially comfortable. There was no window in her shared room, though there was no one else on the other bed, not yet. Oriel was not to know that Idril's isolation of her was just one step in her breaking, her forced foot fetish abuse.

But she didn't even like feet! She didn't like anything, not any fetish, though she was not a virgin. She'd had a roll in the hay, or two, with a merchant boy, the two of them of age and just wanting to experiment, though that had not gotten her anywhere and a big part of her doubted that she would ever see him ever again.

But she couldn't think like that, no. She had to stay fast, she had to be resolute, had to keep thinking, all the time, that she would get out again, would see the light of the outside world again. It was all that she had left in her to hope for, though there was little indication, at least to her, of the days passing.

Eventually, however, after having Oriel scrub herself clean in a cold-water shower that felt like it was fed by rainwater and nothing else, Idril summoned her to the brothel rooms again, where the clients -- and training -- resided.

She walked into the bedroom with towering anthros on either side of her: the staff members that Idril had mentioned before. Oriel kept her head down, as if she was going along with everything willingly, as if she had accepted her fate, though her eyes still kept going to the scantily clad staff. The anthros ranged from a serval to a mouse, though she had seen a horse, a rabbit, a big wolf and even a snake too. There didn't seem to be any limit to those that passed through the brothel's doors, though all the staff members were women.

Some of them went around with their bodies exposed, others left skimpy bras and lingerie on, using babydolls and even more teasing, long, flowing garments to draw the eye to their bodies, though the fabric, of course, would always be sheer. There was not much of an air of mystery to the brothel, though there didn't need to be either -- not when the focus, ultimately, was all on the feet of those there. Even the staff members, surely, had to rile up the guests, to make them see just a taste and a taunting glimpse of all they would be taking from the sex slaves.

Curling her fingers around her collar, the serval shoved Oriel forward into the bedroom with such force that Oriel dropped to her knees, tripping and crying out. Idril turned from where she had been standing at the window, poised and waiting, though she was dressed more scantily that day. With a deep blue bra and pantie set that set off the green-grey of her fur, she was sleek and powerful, perhaps even more so than she had been when Oriel had first laid eyes on her. Even the lines of her hip bones stood out on her lithe form, lean and mean, the kind of anthro who wouldn't take shit off anyone.

"Ah, finally." Idril frowned as she called another in, for she was not speaking to Oriel directly. "Now... There are some things to be considered here, of course. This slave is in training, Lycra, and I want to ensure that she is warmed up and trained correctly for our customers. Come in, settle yourself. Let us begin her education."

From the doorway behind Oriel entered a tall shark woman with a swinging tail. She had feet, unlike some of her animal kind, her skin grey and white with a lighter front to her body, which may have been reminiscent of the camouflage of her natural species. Oriel guessed, though it was of no real consequence to her in her situation, that she was a great white, but she wasn't all that well-versed on sea creatures.

Even though she was not a mammalian creature, she still had breasts, as did most female anthros, differentiating them from the four-legged animals that roamed the world also. Her sharp teeth showed in a predatory smile, Oriel quailing back to the ground, on her knees instinctively, hoping against hope that the scantily clad shark woman would not see her, even as she stalked by.

Lycra, possibly, could have been said to be wearing a dress, though it was a stretch. Frankly, Oriel had never seen anyone in such skimpy attire before, never in her travels with her family either, the dress hugging the shark woman's figure and crisscrossing over her chest with straps, though they were just to highlight her body further, to taunt and to tempt at the lures of the female form. The dress cut sharply across the very tops of her thighs, so short that she should have needed pants or some kind of underwear underneath.

Oriel did not look to see if she was wearing such, eyes shifting fearfully from the shark's tail-fin to her bare feet, tipped with claws that were painted a rich purple -- the same colour as her hair, which fell down her back in a long, thick braid. Two others followed her, a leopard gecko and a raccoon, but Oriel, understandably, did not pay them as much mind as the one that Idril had initially addressed.

"Ladies," Idril said, still speaking to those around Oriel, as she was left with no one in the room bar Idril, Lycra and the two other staff members. "Bind her. I don't want this slave able to move an inch."

Her tone was heavy but it was fair and it seemed that those there knew how to best complete the tasks that Idril set before them. The gecko and the raccoon moved swiftly, seemingly uncaring of their state of undress, wearing only skimpy lingerie, her arms and legs clasped by hands that were tipped with short claws in the case of the raccoon, though the gecko's hands were more disconcerting still. And, of course, even then, there were her feet to contend with, though they did not seem to smell, even if her eyes kept going back to them, again and again, fearful of the fetish that was due to be forced upon her, even against her will. It was not as if they, after all, had any qualms about the fetish, only in debasing and abusing her, in making her a part of it -- a part that could make them a lot of money in the brothel.

"No! I won't do it -- let me go! Let me go right now!"

She squalled and screamed, but, even then, Oriel knew that no one was going to appear from nowhere to rescue her. She wasn't living a fairy tale, not by a long shot, and they heaved her bodily up onto the bed, all of the animals there so much larger and stronger than her. Lycra, seemingly, did not have to wrestle with her, for the shark woman had something far more poignant to do to Oriel, grinning widely as she watched her victim fight back.

Of course, there was no way that Oriel was going to break free, her blue hair sweaty as it clung to the nape of her neck, even though it was still trimmed short, all for their use of her. Her skin glistened with sweat as she was slammed back down into the soft bed, her arms and legs bound spread-eagled so that she couldn't move, hardly thrashing, even though she felt like she was wrenching and hauling her whole body back and forth. The bed bowed lightly under her, sinking into the soft sheets, though Oriel knew they were not there for her comfort, no, not by any means.

The shark woman approached, reaching up to untie the straps at the back of her dress, up at the back of her neck.

"I assume you don't want me to show them any mercy?" Lycra said, but it was more as if the shark was saying it aloud so that Oriel knew what was to happen, rather than trying to confirm anything with Idril. "She's so small and frail... It's the perfect slave."

Idril grinned.

"Everything you have in you, Lycra. This slave should know her place by the time that you are done with her."

Oriel shuddered, watching in fear, lips moving soundlessly, as the shark smoothly stripped off her dress, letting it slide down her chest and stomach and over her hips, all the way down to the ground. Oriel's eyes lingered on her feet, shuddering in revulsion -- one of those big, full-body shudders that rippled through her, one that could not have been hidden even if she had had the presence of mind to try.

"You're going to be fun to break," she laughed, yet her words came with a snapping bite to them. "I always go barefoot...and you're going to get a full dose of it. Best get used to it, just like your Mistress Idril says."

The staff did not call the rat woman mistress, of course, but the reminder of the fact that Idril was her mistress and her own had Oriel, unconsciously, fighting back all over again. She heaved and let out a strangled, broken howl, though was not quite able to get up the presence of mind to spit. If she had, maybe she would have bought herself a few moments more as Lycra slipped onto the bed, sitting between Oriel's open legs, facing her.

While the woman fought her bonds, she raised her feet slowly, letting Oriel's eyes lock onto them all over again.

Lycra slowly flexed her feet, scrunching the toes and then splaying them out right in front of Oriel, letting her get a good look over them. It had been a while since she had had a fresh slave to toy with and she was more than eager to have another's face press and mould around their rugged shape. The soles were even a little meaty, a little voluptuous, feet that carried her through her daily life at the brothel, though using the slaves was one of Lycra's favourite activities.