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Message-ID: <210304Z16031996@anon.penet.fi>
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: an109285@anon.penet.fi (H.A.V.)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an109285@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sat, 16 Mar 1996 20:58:09 UTC
Subject: Pavlovian Slave
Lines: 401
Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:139938



	When I opened my eyes, I could barely see. I felt groggy 
and couldn't think straight. I remembered leaving a nightclub 
with a woman I'd met there, but I didn't know where I was or 
how in the world I got there.
	Then I felt a hand on my chin, turning my head back and 
forth. "Are you waking up?" a woman's voice asked. "Come on, 
Rick, wake up."
	My vision started to clear and I could see the woman 
from the club looking down into my face. I tried to sit up, 
but I was tied into a dentist's chair and couldn't move.
	"There," she said. "You're awake now. I drugged you at 
the bar, so you may feel a little groggy."
	Then she left the room, and I closed my eyes and tried 
to think. Who is this woman and what the hell is she up to?
	I must be dreaming, I thought, shaking my head. Then I 
began to get the full picture. My upper arms and wrists were 
bound to the armrests, and there were straps just above both 
my ankles. My body was shaved smooth and I had been dressed 
in a black, lace bra and panties with a matching garter belt 
and stockings. I wasn't wearing shoes, which let me see that 
my toenails were painted dark red.
	What kind of weirdo am I dealing with? I wondered. Then 
she walked in, carrying a pair of patent-leather pumps with 
six-inch heels. "Who put you up to this?" I asked her, 
thinking it was somebody's idea of an elaborate, unfunny 
practical joke.
	"So, are we fully awake now?"
	"Let me up." I said. "What the hell's going on, anyway?"
	"Be quiet," she said. "You'll know everything soon 
enough." She stepped on a pedal at the base of the chair and 
my feet were raised up to her waist. When she started putting 
the shoes on me, I tried to stop her.
	"Look," I said, "this has gone far enough. I mean, fun's 
fun and all, but now I think it's time..."
	She gave me a patient smile, then grabbed my balls 
roughly. "This is no joke. You will cooperate with me."
	Oddly, it was at that moment that I realized how 
attractive she was. She was in her mid-thirties, tall and 
slender, and wearing a tight, short, black leather skirt, 
dark hose and high-heeled pumps. Her long, dark hair framed a 
face of cruel beauty that regarded me with clinical 
curiosity. Her lush bosom and full, stark-red lips turned me 
on, despite the circumstances. But then she gave my balls a 
hard squeeze that nearly made me pass out. I grunted and 
writhed in pain.
	She put the shoes on my feet as I groaned. I could feel 
the snug, tight fit around my toes as she pressed the shoe 
over my heel. I was startled at how feminine my legs looked.
	"Now," the woman said, "that's much better." She raised 
me back to an upright position, then walked to a curtain-
covered wall in front of me.
	"I want you to get a good look at yourself," she said 
before pulling the curtain back and revealing my reflection 
in a mirrored wall. My face was made up like a prostitute, 
with heavy eye makeup and red lipstick. And my hair had been 
moussed into a very feminine style.
	"Well," she asked me, "what do you think of your new 
look?"
	"I think this is crazy," I told her. "I look 
ridiculous."
	She smiled that patient smile again and walked over to 
me. Then she slapped my face hard enough to ring my ears. A 
flash of anger shot through me and I started to say 
something, but she slapped me very hard five or six more 
times. I was stunned into silence, my anger completely 
subdued.
	"Now, you do not look ridiculous. You look very pretty, 
don't you?"
	I said nothing, and she hit me again. I saw stars and my 
head ached.
	"Don't you look pretty?" she asked.
	"Yes," I said, afraid of her now.
	"Say it," she commanded.
	"I look very pretty," I said.
	"Good," she said, smiling.
	Then she stepped up to me and kissed me hard, her tongue 
probing my mouth while her fingers lightly twisted my 
nipples. My cock stood up under the lacy panties. I didn't 
want to get a hardon in front of her, but couldn't help it.
	She looked at my erection and smiled. Then she lowered 
my head nearly to the floor and released my right wrist. I 
could move my hand toward my body, but I could not reach 
outside the armrest.
	"Now, I want you to masturbate."
	"What?" I said. I couldn't believe it.
	Without warning, she pressed her foot against my 
windpipe, choking me. "You will do what I say, and you will 
not question my orders again," she said while I was gagging. 
"Is that clear?"
	"Yes," I croaked when she raised her foot off my throat.
	"Now masturbate!" she ordered.
	As she stood over me, observing me, I began to 
masturbate.
	"Very good," she said. Then, as I stroked my cock, she 
slipped off her high-heeled pump, raised her well-shaped foot 
and began lightly brushing my lips with her toes. Through the 
mesh, I could see her crimson-colored toenails. As she 
brushed her toe across my lips, I felt myself nearing orgasm.
	"Open your mouth," she said. When I did, she eased her 
toes between my lips. "Now suck," she said.
	As I began to suck her toes, I was writhing with 
pleasure and, with her toes moving gently in my mouth, I 
closed my eyes and had a tremendous orgasm. I mindlessly 
continued to suck her toes as my cock pumped out the sticky 
cum. She slowly moved her foot away from my mouth as I lay 
there feeling embarrassed and humiliated, yet savoring the 
undeniable pleasure I felt.
	When I finally opened my eyes, she was standing over me 
with a hypodermic needle. I was afraid to speak as she pushed 
it into my arm.
	"This won't hurt you," she reassured me. "You're going 
to sleep for a while. I'll explain everything to you when you 
wake up." Then she left the room. With the sound of her heels 
clicking in my ears, I looked at myself, dressed in frilly, 
lacy lingerie, and passed out.



	I was having a troubled dream. In it, I was meeting the 
woman at the nightclub. I could see her come up to my table, 
just as she had done the night before, and ask to join me. I 
could see myself looking flattered as she asked seemingly 
innocent questions about who I was, what I did, whether I was 
married, things like that.
	Then I could see her slipping some clear liquid into my 
beer and smiling as I blabbed on about myself. Suddenly, the 
dream vanished and I could hear her saying, "Good, you're 
coming around."
	I was groggy again. Slowly, I was able to focus my eyes 
and I could see her sitting in a chair across from me. I had 
been moved. This room also had a mirrored wall and I could 
see myself clearly. I was tied, sitting up, in a casual 
position. My legs were crossed and tied at the knees and 
ankles. My arms were extended along the back of the sofa and 
tied securely.
	I looked very feminine. I had on white stockings and 
high-heeled pink pumps. I had on a crinoline petticoat under 
a pink dress that came to just below my knees. Through lacy, 
pink gloves, I could see my pink-lacquered nails. My face was 
made up to look like a debutante. Then I felt something 
inside of me and I squirmed. "What you're feeling is a 
tampon," she said.
	"A tampon?" I asked.
	"Yes," she said. "You will be wearing one from time to 
time."
	"But..." I started to protest, but she stopped me with a 
warning look.
	She stood and began strolling around the room. She was 
devastatingly sexy in a black, tight, very short dress that 
molded to her body. "I am Doctor Janice Monroe," she said, 
"and this is your chance to ask questions."
	"You're a doctor?" I asked.
	"I am a psychiatrist," she said.
	"But I'm not crazy," I said.
	"No, you're not," she said. "That's one of the reasons, 
among others, why I selected you for my experiment."
	"Experiment?" I asked. I didn't like the sound of this 
at all.
	Her heels clicked as she walked back and forth across 
the hardwood floor. "Yes," she said. "I was researching 
sexual fetishism and the effect it has on men's lives. I 
began to realize that fetishes could be induced in men, and 
then used to control them.
	"With you, and the others, I will induce these fetishes 
through hypnosis and operant conditioning."
	"Operant conditioning?" I asked.
	"Yes," she said. "As was done with Pavlov's famous dog. 
I picked you because you are a young, successful businessman. 
If this can be done to you, it can be done to others like 
you.
	"A group of powerful businesswomen is funding the 
program," she said. "If, through my techniques, they can gain 
control of key men, well, you can imagine what they might 
accomplish."
	I was afraid now. This wasn't some weirdo playing a 
joke. This was a well-organize, well-funded experiment. I had 
never felt so helpless in my life.
	"It might interest you to know," she continued, "that a 
camera behind the mirror is taping every phase of this 
research for my associates to study."
	I looked at the mirror in shock and embarrassment, but 
all I could see was myself dressed like a woman.
	"When I have finished," Dr. Monroe explained, "these 
women will see you enslaved and feminized by an intense 
sexual desire for my feet."
	"It won't work," I said, trying to hide my fear by 
sounding confident.
	Without answering me, as if to emphasize my loss of 
manhood in the face of what I had just said, she walked up to 
me and said "Open your mouth and prepare to suck my toes." 
Without hesitation, I did.
	Smiling, she sat next to me on the sofa and began 
kissing me lightly on the neck and lips. Every time she 
moved, I could feel the tampon deep inside me, making me feel 
pinioned and helpless.
	She leaned back and slipped off one of her shoes, then 
brought her beautifully arched foot up and pressed her toes 
to my lips. And, despite the camera, I began to kiss her 
toes.
	Then she stood, pressed her foot against my crotch and 
flexed her toes against my hardon. "There," she said, "you're 
erect." She sat down in her chair and crossed her legs. "Now, 
I want you to concentrate on my foot."
	I watched her foot, swinging gracefully, slowly back and 
forth. I could see her painted toenails through the dark mesh 
of her hosiery.
	"Now, relax totally," she said.
	I knew she was hypnotizing me and I could feel myself 
being drawn to stare at her foot. With a sudden flash of 
fear, I looked away. Without a word, she took a remote-
control type device and pushed a button. The sofa had been 
wired and an electric shock made me scream.
	"Now," she said, "you will concentrate on my foot."
	I did as I was told. I watched the lovely foot move back 
and forth as her voice began to drone in soft tones. I was 
getting drowsy and the last thing I remember was seeing her 
move her toes back and forth gently, the red nails glistening 
as my erection throbbed.



	There were sounds disturbing me, but I didn't want to 
wake up; I was dreaming about her feet. I could see her 
walking in those high heels. I could see the swelling curve 
of her instep and the sheer, dark hosiery stretched tightly 
across the tips of the pretty toes. These dreams made me feel 
warm and aroused. But the sounds continued, and I began to 
come around again. The realization of what she was doing to 
me began to interrupt my dreams.
	Events seemed hazy and unclear, I guess because she kept 
me drugged. But I remembered one session clearly.
	I awoke, naked, in a bathtub, with my arms tied across 
my chest. She was standing over me, also naked. It took my 
breath away to see her bare breasts and exposed vagina.
	She turned the water on. It came in a single, warm 
stream aimed at the underside of my cock. She told me to 
twist my nipples, but I hesitated. She slapped me three or 
four times, hard enough to snap my head back. Then, with the 
water hitting my cock, I began to do as she ordered, and I 
got an erection.
	She leaned over and kissed me, probing deeply into my 
mouth with her tongue, and then stood up. I was hard, 
writhing in pleasure and pain under the water stream. As I 
continued to twist my nipples, she hung an enema bag in the 
shower and inserted the nozzle into my fully exposed rectum.
	She filled my bowel with warm fluid and told me to hold 
it. I was overcome with sexual excitement, feeling near 
orgasm, when she lifted her beautiful foot, told me to open 
my mouth and put her toes between my lips. I can still hear 
her commanding, "Now suck."
	In mere seconds, I had a shuddering orgasm and released 
the warm fluid she had put in my bowel. I felt totally 
shamed, yet I couldn't bring myself to stop sucking her toes 
until she drew them gently from my mouth while smiling down 
at me. When it was over, as usual, she rendered me 
unconscious.
	There were many other sessions, in different rooms, tied 
in different positions, some even outside in broad daylight. 
But I was always dressed as a woman and usually wearing a 
tampon. If I didn't follow her orders exactly, she would 
punish me by slapping me or shocking me, or by putting a 
thick dildo in my anus. Then she would give me an erection 
and I would either masturbate while kissing her toes or she 
would hypnotize me while I gazed at her feet.




	Those images were bothering me as I began to come 
around. I could hear movement in the room, but I kept my eyes 
closed. I had to think.
	I had no idea how long Dr. Monroe had held me captive, 
but I had a business to get back to. And besides that, she 
was messing with my mind. Despite everything she had done to 
me, I was falling in love with her. And every time I thought 
of her feet, I felt aroused. I had to try to escape before it 
was too late.
	Then I noticed things had gotten quiet and I barely 
opened one eye. I immediately realized I was not tied up. I 
was alone in a large room and like in the other rooms, one 
wall was curtained.
	I had on a sweatsuit and sneakers. It could only mean 
one thing, I thought: She'd made a mistake. I had come around 
sooner than expected. This was my chance to escape from her.
	Moving quickly, I tiptoed to the door and opened it. A 
starry night was before me. I was free. But just as I started 
to step out, I heard her soft voice say, "Rick, please look 
at me before you go."
	My instincts said to haul ass, but for some reason I 
looked at her. The sight made me catch my breath. She was 
wearing a long, tight black leather dress that glimmered 
softly in the light as she moved. A slit up one side gave a 
flash of her long, beautiful leg. "Before you go, Rick, come 
to me one last time," she said.
	One last time won't hurt, I thought. I'm not tied up; 
she can't stop me now. With that thought, I walked up to her. 
She stood before me like a magnificent queen, but I knew I 
could resist her. I didn't look at her feet because I wanted 
to show her that her experiment had failed. "Your little 
experiment didn't work," I said, looking straight into her 
confident eyes.
	"You can't leave, Rick," she said.
	"Oh? Who's gonna stop me?" I said.
	"You will, Rick," she said.
	"No, this little game is over, Doc," I sneered as I 
turned to go. "I'm not playing any more."
	"Rick," she said softly.
	"What?"
	"Look at my feet."
	And for some reason, I did. I looked back at her feet 
and stopped in my tracks. They were breathtaking. She was 
wearing a pair of high-heeled black boots with silver heels. 
The heels gleamed like liquid moonlight.
	Like a deer staring into headlights, I was paralyzed. 
And, as I stood there, the curtain behind her was raised. I 
had actually been on a stage, and before me were several 
wealthy-looking women sitting as if at a play. They 
applauded.
	None of this had been a mistake, I realized. She had 
planned it all from the start. She was smiling at me, "I gave 
you that chance to leave to demonstrate that you would obey 
me rather than escape."
	I stood in defeated silence before her.
	"Now," Dr. Monroe ordered, "urinate in your pants."
	I just stood there, astounded, still thinking I could 
resist her. She tapped the heel of her boot twice and, 
despite myself, I pissed down my leg. The women applauded as 
the dark stain spread down my sweatpants.
	"Take your clothes off, Rick," Dr. Monroe said. "Wipe 
yourself off with this towel and put these one." She handed 
me a bundle of clothes.
	I stripped off the sweatsuit and, standing naked and 
humiliated before all those women, dried my leg. Like a man 
in a trance, I put on the clothes she had given me. I slid 
sheer red stockings over my legs and fastened them to a red 
satin garter belt. Then I put on a  red, lacy bra and red 
high-heeled pumps.
	She told me to bend over and then she inserted the 
condom-covered handle of a small feather duster into my anus. 
The crowd laughed. Dr. Monroe smiled at me, then tapped her 
heel three times.
	Without another word from her, I kneeled and began 
making love to her feet. With my feathered anus up in the 
air, I pressed my lips against her boots, slowly sliding my 
tongue over the soft leather. I gently caressed the pointed 
toe of each boot with my lips. I was becoming erect.
	"Stand up now, Rick," she said. As I did, she continued, 
"Show us how you learned to walk, sweetheart."
	I don't know how, but I knew to begin walking with small 
sissy steps, with my ass thrust back and swinging so that the 
feathers swished. I could hear more laughter from the crowd.
	I didn't want to do these things, but I was doing them 
anyway. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that Dr. 
Monroe had enslaved me, just as she said she would. I wanted 
her feet more than anything.
	Then she clapped her hands and I again kneeled before 
her. She pulled back her skirt to reveal her garter belt. She 
was wearing no panties; her pubic bush was before me.
	As I watched, she filled a small cup with her urine, 
then said "Lick me clean." I licked her vagina with long, 
slow strokes.
	Dr. Monroe said, "Very good, Rick. Now you may have your 
reward."
	I rolled over on my back and began twisting my nipple 
with one hand while masturbating with the other. She stood 
next to my ear and I shivered with excitement when I heard 
her slip off her boot. She held the boot to my lips and I 
licked every last inch of it eagerly. 
	Then she brushed her toe lightly against my outstretched 
tongue. She raised her foot slightly and I lifted my head off 
the floor, trying to reach it with my tongue. She smiled at 
me.
	She lowered her foot and pressed her nylon-covered toes 
gently to my lips. I was in heaven. I kissed the underside of 
her precious toes passionately, urgently, savoring each one. 
I felt dizzy with sexual excitement. 
	Then I came so hard my body twitched and my eyelids 
fluttered. My rectum convulsed around the feather duster and 
I almost fainted.
	After a brief pause, she snapped her fingers and I stood 
up, assuming a very feminine posture. Overcome with shame and 
humiliation, I began to cry, sobbing loudly. At that, the 
crowd exploded in applause, cheering wildly.
	Dr. Monroe drew me close to her and whispered in my ear, 
"It's all right, Rick. I'll always be with you. You'll be all 
right." I surrendered my manhood to her right then and knew 
that from that moment on I was at her beck and call forever.
	Soon after her "demonstration" she let me go. But from 
time to time, I'll answer my phone and hear a high-heeled 
shoe tapping. I always go to her when she calls because I 
long for her beautiful feet. I eagerly serve her even though 
it means helping enslave other men. There is nothing I won't 
do for Dr. Monroe because what she wants is all that matters 
in life to me now. 
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