The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tim lets the rain pour down on him despite his umbrella being tucked away on the side of his backpack. From his school bag to the shirt on his back to the socks on his feet, he’s soaking wet as he trudges through the waterlogged sidewalk. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t find shelter somewhere; Tim is disheartened. Just a few minutes ago he got out of his final exam of the semester. For some that is an event worthy of celebration, but he is sure he’s just flunked the exam and in the class that he was already teetering into failing. Now his future was cemented. The thought of redoing the course hurt but he couldn’t progress without it. He knew he was going to be spending the summer taking classes which meant he had to stay at his dorm room studying for the whole summer break, rather than going back home.

It’s so late most of the lights in the windows are shut off and the place is deserted. Because his exam took place in a different building than his classes, he finds himself ing the social science building where the dreaded psychology class is; the one he no doubt failed and the one that is going to be eating away his summer.

The door to the social science building swings open and a woman in a long, dark jacket with her hood up, steps out. She is wheeling out a cart filled with boxes and is trying to quick step it to her car when she sees Tim. She pauses briefly then runs back inside to find cover for whatever she is wheeling.

“Tim?” He recognizes the voice and wants to run. It is his Psychology teacher Ms. Messina, the woman who probably has his failed exam right there. “Tim is that you?” She continues.

“Uhh. Oh. Yeah. Hi Dr. Messina.” Tim says plainly, the rain still splashing down on him. “Come on, get inside!” She says, stepping back to make way for him.

He briefly considers saying ‘No thanks’ and continues walking home, but he worries that would be strange or rude so he scampers over and s her away from the rain.

“It’s really coming down, huh?” She tries to make small talk as they watch the sheets of water fall from the sky.

“Yeah...” Tim searches for better words but he finds none. Not even 20 minutes ago he was taking her exam.

“Do you have a ride home?” She asks. “Oh. No. It’s fine if I can walk.” He says.

“Look at it out there, you can’t walk home in that. You’re already soaked.” Dr. Messina is right, but Tim has no intention of staying with his professor for one moment longer.

“It’s fine—” Tim begins but a blast of thunder cuts him off. It causes him to jump.

“It is definitely not fine! Not if it’s lightning as well. Come up to my office, we can stay there until the storm stops.” Dr. Messina declares and as Tim is trying to make an excuse to leave she is already on her way.

Deanna Messina is a 45 year old Psychology professor. That’s known already, of course, but what is notable is Deanna’s extensive research into the field of hypnosis. She’s teaching first year psychology at the University to give her a place and a wage so she can complete her latest paper, one titled “An Analysis of Complete Subjugation of the Mind Through Hypnosis.” What interests her about hypnosis is how the mind can be moulded into parody of itself, into something which is the same but in certain ways entirely different. Can ideas, feelings, desires, and the like be altered to be the polar opposite of what they are.

Deanna is not spiritual but even she had to it, the opportunity that presented itself when she stumbled upon Tim Reynolds was so serendipitous she could almost believe something was looking out for her.

The boy was sitting on the chair across from her desk. He looks cold in his wet clothes. He looks uncomfortable, like his eyes don’t know where to look. He looks delicious.

“I’ll make you some tea,” She says, ignoring his refusal. “Nonsense, you look like you’re freezing. My tea will warm you up.” She takes out the kettle from on top of the shelf before unlocking the drawer of her desk.

“Why do you keep your tea locked in a drawer?” Tim speaks up.

“Believe it or not, these tea leaves are the most valuable things in this office to me. Or, among the most. I got them on a trip to Africa several years ago and haven’t found any I like as much since.” Deanna explains. She is telling most of the truth, but in actuality their value comes not from their taste but rather from its psychological effects. The tea leaves sedate and entrance the drinker, just enough to get their mind pliable.

Deanna pours a bottle of water from her mini-fridge into the kettle and flips it on, the element beneath the liquid begins to heat up and soon the water starts to simmer.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to use one of the tea bags on me—” Tim starts but is cut off by Deanna. “Nonsense. You need to drink something warm. You’ll catch a cold.”

After the water boils, Deanna fills a cup with it and inserts the teabag. She lets it brew as they speak. “How did you find the exam?” She asks.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. It was- it was good but there were some tough questions.” He says but she knows the truth. He’s been struggling all year and from his face during the exam she could tell he was struggling still. It was a shame, she thought, she did like him but he didn’t quite get the concepts and never seemed to study enough. He didn’t have the right drive. She could give him that. She could give him the motivation to do any number of things.

“Tim, you’re a good student but you could do more.” Blunt but true. Tim hangs his head. “Yeah... I know.”

“But enough worrying about that for now. You can’t do anything to change it at the moment so try to move on to other things. Here’s your tea.” She hands him the warm mug.

He blew on the liquid to cool it down then lifted the mug to his lips. As soon as he swallowed his first sip, her plan was officially underway.

In order to research hypnosis, she needed a subject. She could get people to volunteer but then her experiments would be viewed and judged by the public. In the comfort of her own office with a subject who doesn’t even know they’re her subject, Deanna could capture his mind and use it for her tests. Can someone have their entire personality rewritten? Why does the mind let itself be totally dominated? What happens to the self when free will is stripped away? Is the entranced mind the real mind? So many questions and many more to follow.

Her guinea pig drinks more of the tea and smiles. “This is good. I see why you’ve kept it under lock and key.”

She smirks. And it was a bonus that she enjoys the boys’ company, too.

“You should take off that jacket.” Dr. Messina says. “Your shoes and socks too. They’re soaking wet.”

He couldn’t disagree with her so he took off his wet jacket as well with his shoes and socks and immediately he felt better. Deanna was glad to see him already obeying her orders but she felt that the boy was meek already so him being submissive did not mean successful results from her tea.

Deanna Messina wheels her chair around her desk so she is no more than a couple of feet away from him. She asks “Do you mind if I take my heels off?” He shakes his head and takes another sip of his tea. She reaches down and takes her heels off, slipping her pantyhose feet out.

She notices that he doesn’t look at her feet. “Tim, can I tell you about a paper I’m writing?”

Tim is lost in thought, occasionally sipping his tea that sends warmth down throughout his body yet muddles his brain. He finds he can’t focus on much, as if he was high on weed. “Sure...” He finds the word.

“It’s about the brain and specifically the mind. I find the concept of identity fascinating, the idea that the mind creates an image of itself which in turn dictates our actions, thoughts and feelings. Essentially, my perspective is that the mind has a certain idea of what it is and that’s what determines what we do. My mind sees myself as a psychologist and a professor, someone who is studious, academic, but also sexy.” Dr. Messina explains, Tim is lost instantly but he catches the word ‘sexy’ and frowns. “And because this is how I perceive myself, I thus act in accordance with that self-image.”

Deanna lifts one foot and drops her heel on Tim’s knee. At this point Tim’s eyes are fading and his body is growing limp, he barely perceives her foot on his leg. “Doctor....” He frowns. “I don’t feel good. I feel... strange...”

“Nonsense dear, you feel fantastic. That’s what the tea does, it makes you feel good.” She explains and he can’t disagree, but the daze he was in was foreign and new to him, he wants to move but has no energy.

“As I was saying,” Dr. Messina continues, “the mind determines what it is and thus what we are. My hypothesis is that if one can change the identity the mind constructs, one can change the mind itself and one can mold an entire personality to suit one’s liking.” Tim is lost. She expands, “one is me. I believe I can mold someone’s will to whatever I like.”

Tim frowns. “Like... mind control?”

“Yes. But deeper. Not just mere control, total domination. A complete subjugation of the mind, as in the title of my paper.” She says plainly. “I’m currently in the research phase. You see Tim, I need to test it on a blank slate. I need to capture someone’s mind, mold it into something entirely different, and write down my findings.”

“Capture...?” Tim’s eyes shut but he pulls them back open before being overcome with a long yawn.

“Yes, capture.” Dr. Messina watches the boy struggle to stay conscious. With her foot still resting on his knee, Deanna flexes her toes to see if that would draw Tim’s attention but it doesn’t. Deanna was proud of her feet, they were sexy even to those who didn’t appreciate feet so she knew that if he didn’t at least glance down at them, clad in pantyhose, he probably doesn’t have a foot fetish, but she decides to make sure.

“Tim, you may rest your eyes but you must listen to me still. Hear my words and respond with the truth.” She instructs. From her desk she pulls out a notepad along with a pen and she jots down his name. “How old are you, Tim?”

“19.” He says as his eyes gradually shut, she writes it down. “Do you have a job?”

“No... I just do school.” His voice sounds like it’s lost in a dream. “Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” She asks.

Tim shakes his head. “No”

“Are you a virgin?”

“Yes.”

Deanna smiles and makes a mental note to jot down that for her studies, later. “What are your plans for your future?”

Tim is quiet for a moment long enough to cause Deanna to worry that the tea effect somehow worn off, but then the boy spoke up. “I... I’m not sure. I think I’ll have to take another year of school but I hate it. I don’t know what I want to do. I’m... I’m lost.”

Deanna understands that feeling. It took her a while to find her ion. She feels bad for failing him but she knows he is unfit for University. “Tim, where do you live?”

“In residence.”

“Would your roommate be concerned if you didn’t return tonight?” She asks innocently.

Tim pauses. “What do you mean?” His voice got back some of its clarity and Deanna heard a tinge of worry.

“Shhhhh,” She shushes him and massages his shin with the big toe of her other foot. “Just relax, breathe in and out. Let yourself rest. Answer the question, darling.”

“No, he wouldn’t care.” Tim eventually says.

Deanna prompts him to take another sip of the tea and he manages to lift it to his mouth to drink another swig. As he lowers it down, the mug looks ready to slip from his fingers but Deanna reaches forward and takes it from him. The tea is almost all gone, barely suring the tea bag at the bottom of the cup. She places it back onto her desk.

With one foot on his knee the other foot rests between his leg, inches from his crotch. “You must jerk off, right Timmy?”

He answers with a sluggish head nod. She asks, “How often?”

“Once a day.” He responds.

“Just can’t keep your hands away, huh?” Deanna then asks, “do you like feet?” His nose scrunches. “Feet? No.” He sounds almost disgusted.

“Good.” Deanna says with a smile. “You see dear, I love having my feet tended to. Ever since I was your age I loved it when boyfriends had a thing for feet. But here’s the thing, Timmy. If you had a foot fetish then my hypnosis wouldn’t give me very clear results.” One foot touches his crotch while the other approaches his face. “Sniff.” She commands and without thinking he obeys, breathing in the odor that emanates off her sole which is barely an inch from his face. It’s strong and attacks his nostrils, his face wrinkles in revulsion. Her feet have been in those tight leather heels all day and all night, and inside nylon pantyhose during all that time too. The silky material inches from Tim’s face radiates off a strong vinegary smell, one that is sharp and cuts right through the young man’s nose.

“You hate the smell, don’t you?” Deanna asks, to which Tom nods. “Good.” She says, “That way, when I turn you into a mindless foot fetishist and an obsessed slave, I will know my experiment is properly evaluating your mind’s ability to be subjugated to external change. Forced external change, that is.”

The words Deanna spoke lost their meaning to Tim as they washed over him in a slur. Tim was starting to drift off. The balls of Deanna’s feet move closer to Tim until her soft soles and long and strong toes press against his face, the nylon pantyhose damp with sweat which rubs into Tim’s nose. Although his mind is sinking deeper and deeper into a daydream, his face is repelled in disgust but is powerless to escape Deanna’s stubborn foot. As he squirms limply, her foot massages the smell into his face.

“Enough.” Deanna has a slight grin as Tim’s eyes flutter and try to focus on her. “Tim, can you still hear me?” She presses the foot that rests between his legs into his crotch, hard enough to get his attention but not enough to cause any pain.

Tim is able to turn his gaze to her, nodding. “Yes Professor.”

“Good boy.” She replies, wiggling her toes on his crotch to feel his cock through his pants. It was gradually getting harder, from her teasing him but also from the tea. “Tim, I’m going to help you.”

In response, he beams with brightness as if the way has become clear to him. Before he can thank her, she continues, “But first you need to help me. I need a... volunteer for my next experiment. You need a direction for your future. It just so happens that a personal assistant position can fix both of our respective problems.”

Tim could barely what she was talking about so he just nodded dumbly. “Okay.”

She smiles at his naivety. “Oh Timmy, you don’t get a choice in the matter. You made it clear you can’t be trusted with your own future, so for now, I’ll have to be in control of it. But don’t worry dear, you’ll end up having an absolutely wonderful time at my feet.”

Tim thinks for a moment then opens his jaw to speak but Deanna interrupts him. “Timmy, you need to listen to me and obey one more time. Be a good boy and go to sleep.”

Before he can get a word out, her soft words find their resting place in his mind causing his eyes to fall shut and him fall unconscious.

Deanna watches as the boy’s eyes flutter before finally closing. She waits a moment to make sure that he is sufficiently out, she hears his slow steady breathing and figures he is fast asleep. As he slumbers, she stands up and begins to pack up her things. She pours the tea out but places the tea bag in a plastic ziploc bag to save for later. She packs up the exams and her laptop and slides both into her briefcase before heading to the large wooden cabinet against one of the walls. Inside is a great large suitcase, one she has used yearly since her tenure began to lug papers back and forth from her office to her home once the school year was over. Tonight, however, she would be hauling home her sleepy, stupid boy.

He was heavy but not unmanageable, she drags him by the armpits and lays him in the open suitcase which she laid flat on the ground. He fit snuggly, he was not a large man being shorter than her. She slips his shoes and socks behind his legs and lays his jacket over him like a blanket. Although she has no reason to do so beyond her own satisfaction and pleasure, she steps out of her heels and pulls off her pantyhose and places the insole of her heel around his nose before tying it to his face with the pantyhose, giving him stinky air to breathe in on the journey to her place. She smiles down at the boy stuffed in the suitcase. He was cute, she was excited. She zips up the suitcase but not all the way, just in case (she giggles at the pun) he needs more air in there, she thought not but better to verge on the side of caution.

It takes some strength to lift the suitcase onto his wheels. She slips her bare feet in her flats before turning off her office light and closing the door.

As she wheels him out, her colleague and friend Christa is coming out of her office. “Packing up early?” Christa points to the suitcase which she can tell is heavy from how Deanna is pulling it.

“Yeah, I figured I might as well start moving some stuff out of the office before summer starts. Although God knows I don’t need the extra paperwork, I already have a mountain of exams I need to burn through.”

Christa smiles, nods and leaves Deanna to her business, unbeknownst to her that her business was turning one of her students into a mindless foot fetishist. Oh, what a summer it will be!

Tim was unconscious for a while. The tea was doing its job wonderfully and kept him out long enough for her to drive back home where she had a nice, moderate, yet lavish home near the heart of downtown Elm Haven. It was a townhouse in a good neighborhood, an unsuspecting neighborhood better yet. Sure, having a kidnapped young man in a townhouse where all of your neighbors are just a couple walls away isn’t necessarily the best idea, but Deanna Messina was nothing if not smart (her PHDs said so, after all) and this was not her first rodeo, so to speak. Truthfully, she had never done anything half as brazen as kidnap a student of hers and haul him across town to her residence, but she had taken a few lovers home, hit them with a sleepy-time cocktail and had her way with them. After she was done with them their heads were so muddled and their cocks so hard that they didn’t have much time to think about what had just happened to them. Plus, she knew most men wouldn’t want to make a fuss about being taken advantage of by a woman for some misplaced, masculinity-affecting reason. Not that she would complain, it was quite beneficial for her.

She lugs the suitcase up the three steps into her place then down the ten steps into her basement. When one thinks of a basement where a victim is bound, they usually think of some dingy, dark and drab place, yet the D-words that could describe Deanna’s basement were delightful, deluxe and delectable. The walls are covered in bright and rich red coloured curtains which scream elegance and hide the soundproofing foam wedges that blanket the room. In the corner is a large suede maroon sofa with ebony wood legs and polished brass detailing along with a matching chair that is positioned towards the centre of the room and on a raiser, a position of authority. Beneath it is a Persian area rug with the base colour the same as the chair and sofa cushions and its pattern is a brilliant gold. Small lamps hang on the walls lighting the room in a bright amber hue but can be dimmed to a low and intimate shade. There is a table on the other end of the sofa, a similar (but, frankly, not as nice) dark wood and behind that was a great tall cabinet which housed the supplies Deanna used to make her subjects nice and malleable.

Where Tim will be staying is not as nice given it was technically (although Deanna would never use the word) a cell. Thick iron bars cordon off a sizable corner at the bottom of the stairs. There is a valance along the top and a sliding curtain along the sides. The inside of his home is furnished as comfortably as possible with another Persian rug, an expensive and well-made twin sized bed with the best bedding she could find, a cozy table pushed against the bars where there is a slot to slide in meals and lastly a small shelf with a couple of pairs of shoes and pantyhose. Both the shoes and nylons have been worn by her previously and have not been washed since. In fact, her footprint stains the insoles of the shoes. She knew he wouldn’t care for either, but she hopes it is at least an incentive for him to start becoming interested in her feet. At the very least, it made for some good decor.

She lugs the luggage into Tim’s new abode and unzips the front flap, opening it and unwrapping her cute and sexy new experiment/present for herself. He was still sleeping and her heel was still tied around his nose as he gently inhaled her fermented foot smell. She can feel herself getting aroused so she quickly gets to work.

Tim wakes up a couple hours later. His head feels heavy as if he had just woken up from a night of blackout drinking, it takes a few tries to lift his torso up without his vision spinning. When his eyes finally adjust to the dim yellow lights he frowns. For a moment he thought he really had woken up after being drunk, but then as the events from the past few hours return to him he wonders if that was possible, hadn’t he just had an exam that evening? Hadn’t he seen Dr. Messina? Yes, he was recollecting that he went up into her office but then things got fuzzy, dreamlike. He drank some of her tea and they chatted. What about, he doesn’t know. The rest he didn’t .

His confusion gets worse as he inspects where he was. The red room engulfs him, but what concerns him most are the bars which surround him. He is laying in a soft bed, one so comfy it felt like he is back in the womb, but as he scans for an exit he realises that there was a iron door which is locked, or at least he expects it must be locked as he has seen a lot of movies and in them there is never seen a jail cell with an barred door left unlocked. The dread pours over him like a bucket of ice cold water upon realising he has been kidnapped.

He quickly slips out of bed and before he can make it to the door, he freezes. He feels the cool air wash over his skin and he s that he is stripped of his clothes except for his underwear. The situation certainly seems dire so he races to the door and sure enough it is locked. Yet as he scans around, the situation only becomes stranger. There is a quaint table with a plate of fruit and an elegant white table cloth and there is a rack filled with well worn heels and a couple pairs of pantyhose. He has a vague memory of Ms. Messina’s nylon foot resting on his knee and her asking him if he had a foot fetish. “She’s a freak!” He gasps and panic overtakes him.

“Hey! Let me out!” He shouts although his cries are useless and all it accomplishes is alerting his warden. He looks around for a means of escape but there are no windows and nothing that can possibly saw through the bars.

Then he hears the thundering clacks of heels approaching and he gulps. A shadow covers some of the light which comes in through underneath the door, then it swings open and he sees the beautiful, but intimidating, Dr. Messina. She is wearing a more casual outfit, grey leggings that show off the sensual curve of her hips and thickness of her thighs along with a white t-shirt which struggles to stretch over her bust, but on her feet are red-hot, closed-toed stilettos. The feeling he is hit with is mostly fear yet he can’t deny the spontaneous arousal that overcomes him.

“Had a nice nap? You can keep screaming for all I care, I can put in some ear plugs and the neighbours can’t hear a thing behind all the foam sound barriers,” Her voice is casual if not slightly playful. The emphatic footfalls from each step she takes as she descends the stairs quiets Tim’s whimpering.

“I know you’re confused. You ought to be, after all, waking up in a strange place. I will ease your concerns by saying I will not hurt you... unless it’s in a pleasurable way. Do you much from our last conversation? I thought not, you were slightly under the influence. Well, under my influence. You did agree to being my assistant and I do believe it is something you want, even with my extra... flair, let’s call it.”

She waits for him to respond but the boy has gone ghostly pale. She continues. “I promise you, you’ll grow to love your stay here.”

In a timid and low voice, he pleads “please I want to go home. My roommate will be worried for me by now, he expects me to be home.”

“Hmm. That’s not what you said last night. Plus, I texted him saying you were staying over at a friend’s house. He didn’t seem to care. Why don’t you try to make the most out of the situation? Haven’t you ever wanted to be with an older woman? Isn’t that every young man’s dream?”

She was right, in a way. Tim has fantasized about being with an older woman yet as a goddess such as Deanna Messina stood in front of him he was far too scared to feel aroused in any way, and even if he had not been taken against his will, the thought of sleeping with a woman twice his age was an intimidating one. A fantasy he was ashamed to it he had frequently was one in which an older woman held him in her arms, stroked his head as she assured him he was a ‘Good Boy’ and that everything would be okay. But as of right now, that fantasy had lost most of its appeal.

A faint whistle sounds off somewhere upstairs. Deanna smiles, “oh right on time. I’ll be back in a second. Try to get comfortable.” She turns and leaves. Tim doesn’t try to get comfortable, he crosses his arms and looks for a way out, despite knowing it’s in vain.

Upstairs Deanna is pouring hot water from the kettle into a tea cup with the hypnotic tea leaves inside of it. The steam rising from the cup wafts to her and sends her brain for a loop for a moment, she has enough willpower to step back and breath in some fresh air. She chuckles to herself thinking how funny it would be if she managed to get entranced before she could do that to the boy. She carries the tea back downstairs to the young man who is sitting on the bed, pouting. She slides the tea cup through the horizontal break in the bars and onto the table inside his corner. When he sees the cup he shuffles away from it to the other end of the bed, he re enough of what happened the night before to be wary. For a brief moment she does feel bad for the boy, but more importantly she wishes he could see reason, or at least her reasoning.

“Young man... Timmy—” “My name is not Timmy, it’s Tim.”

She pauses, looks at the boy and sighs, “Tim... you must understand my reasoning.” “You’re some kind of sex pervert who wants me to kiss her feet.” He states plainly.

‘Well,’ she thinks to herself, ‘he isn’t completely wrong’. She suppresses a smile. “No, dear. I read your exam. You failed. I think you know that. Psychology isn’t for everyone and neither is University for that matter. I was your age once and it is a confusing time, you’re coming into adulthood, yet you don’t know the path you are meant to take. You do have your whole life ahead of you and still you need to choose a direction that may dictate the man you will become. I don’t come to you in malice, I come to you because I believe that we can help each other out. You can help me test my recent hypothesis and I can help you go down a productive path, giving you an opportunity to change from a lost young man into a confident, driven man. Don’t you want that?”

He looks at her with a raised eyebrow. “Lady, you’re crazy.”

That agitates her but she doesn’t let it show. “I understand. These things take time. I’m sure your parents have told you that they know best for you and I’m sure you didn’t believe them. I’m telling you the same thing now and of course, why would you believe me? Nevertheless, the progress of science must march forward and whether you like it or not, you must grow up. Even if it takes a little push.”

With the cup in his den and the steam rising from it, the scent drifts over to him. He turns away but she notices a dreamy look come across his face. She could not force him to drink it, but if he gets enough of the second hand smell she can certainly convince him. Convincing young men to do as she pleases was her specialty, after all.

She felt ready to start her experiment. The first step in any scientific process, she knows, is to gather data and soon she will have a suggestible and open puppet to feed her all the data she needs—at least if the office trance was anything to go off of. To begin she goes through the great wooden cabinet and pulls out a yellow legal notepad and a fresh pen. Next, she drags the maroon throne along the hardwood and stations the seat across from Tim, she then sits down and crosses her legs while observing the boy. Deanna pulls up the matching foot rest and she slips out of her heels, setting them aside, then lays her bare feet on the suede stool, and stretches her long plump toes directly in front of the light-headed young man.

Once again, Tim was falling under the spell of the tea even with it a few feet away from him. She watches him as he sniffs in small bursts, as if he’s trying to capture a faint smell of something intriguing all the while it’s making his mind sink deeper under influence. His eyelids become heavy as he wobbles back and forth like a singing wind chime. His cock grows hard and lengthens beneath his underwear. He isn’t staring ahead and he isn’t looking at her soles which are side by side ready to be ogled, but as his sight dims and as his mind reels from the hypnotic tea, the rest of his vision falls out of view and he will soon need something to pay attention to. Deanna Messina flexed her toes but alas, she didn’t capture his attention yet.

Deanna flips to a new page in her legal and jots down the date and a quick note: Subject has been contained in the experiment environment. He is extremely resistant to training, is revolted by the general concept of foot fetishism and has a strong aversion to feet. No conditioning has been istered as of yet. Today’s task is to begin to bring the boy under my command as well as causing arousal to begin to plant suggestions of infatuation to feet.

“Alright. Let’s begin, Timmy.” Deanna says after crossing the t.

“... Not... my name...” The boy slurs his speech. He keeps pushing his eyelids open as if he’s trying to stay awake.

“Yes it is, Timmy.’ Deanna says.

For a moment the boy frowns in confusion. “No...” “Your name has always been Timmy, Timmy.” “...Tim...’s my name...” He says adamantly.

Deanna notes down: After the subject has been istered a small amount of the hypnotic substance through inhalation, the subject’s mind is strong enough to know his real name (Tim) over the nickname (Timmy) I’ve assigned for him. Through inhalation the substance has less effect but the subject is far too resistant to coerce into oral consumption.

“How are you feeling, Timmy?”

Timmy still looks lost but he manages to say. “Sleepy.” Deanna didn’t need to note that, that much was obvious.

“Are you thirsty, Timmy?” She hadn’t given him anything to drink since she kidnapped him, but still he shakes his head no, albeit sluggishly. Deanna nods, she didn’t expect it to be that easy. Still, she must progress.

“Keep listening to my voice, Timmy.” Deanna says in a hushed tone, her voice coming out as a breathy whisper meant to infiltrate Tim’s unstable mental defences. “All you need to pay attention to my voice, let the sound of my words guide you to where you need to go.”

“No...” The boy os struggling again, frowning. He senses something wasn’t right. “Not gonna... listen to you. Not again.” He wiggles in discomfort and raises his palms to his ears to block out Deanna’s voice, but the steam from the tea was still wafting in his face and he couldn’t cover his nose and his ears with just two hands.

“It’s okay, Timmy.” She says. The boy shakes his head. “It’s okay,” She repeats, “just follow my words. They’re safe, they’re comfortable. Let my words wash over you like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day, guiding you into relaxation.”

He is still resisting but his body grows more limp by the moment and he is unable to keep his ears blocked, eventually he lets his hands crash down into his lap.

“Let your mind be empty. Imagine you are crawling into bed after a long exhausting day, your eyes are heavy and your body is exhausted, let yourself lay back and rest.” Her words have an effect as he stops squirming so much.

She continues. “Good boy. Close your eyes, if you need to. Just let your body relax and let your mind sleep. Doesn’t it feel so much better to stop thinking? Now, I want you to breathe in slowly for me, let the air fill your lungs all the way up, then gently let the air out.”

His eyes fall shut and he breathes as she tells him to. She feels giddy with excitement as each long breath that he draws takes him further and further under, soon he would be a piece of clay for her to mould. “That’s it, my good boy. Keep breathing. Feel the air enter your body like a calm, gently flowing stream. Feel the air leave your nostrils as you exhale. Keep doing that. In and out.” She watches as his chest raises and lowers. He falls into a rhythm and soon he doesn’t need Deanna’s voice to guide him so she stops talking and lets him inhale all of the hypnotic evaporation. As he slips deeper and deeper under trance for her, his lungs filling with the corrupted air which makes his head lighter and lighter, Deanna writes down some notes: Subject falls under hypnosis as easily as last time, even without direct ingestion. The ease of the entrancement is most likely because the subject’s mind has already been infiltrated by me and thus has become weak to hypnosis. Further study is required to confirm my hypothesis.

After dotting down her notes, she looks back up at her subject and he almost looks like he’s asleep only his facial expressions aren’t completely limp and his face hints at some awareness though it’s fleeting. ‘A good first step’, Deanna thinks to herself, good enough to let her to move onto step two.

“Timmy, are you thirsty?”

The boy takes a moment to respond and in that lull Deanna worries that he has fallen asleep, but then he replies fairly, “...No...”

She frowns. It wasn’t the reply she was expecting, he hadn’t dranken since the night before at the very least but nevertheless she progresses on. “Timmy, you are thirsty.” She says adamantly, no doubt in her voice.

Again, Tim is quiet. She repeats herself. “Timmy, you are thirsty.”

This time her words seem to sink in slightly as he mutters, “I... am... thirsty?”

She nods. “You are thirsty. Timmy, you are thirsty. You want a drink to quench your thirst.”

The wheels in his head were turning and Deanna’s statements were landing, he sluggishly nods, “I am thirsty.”

“Timmy, stand up and drink the cup of tea that is on the table.”

He hesitates. She reckons that mentioning the tea is enough to set alarm signals off in his brain but she hopes that he is too dazed to make the connection as to why he shouldn’t drink the tea. “The tea will quench your thirst. Drink the tea, Timmy.”

Watching the boy in his state was infuriating. He sways to the side like a drunkard, until he is eventually able to pick himself up onto his feet where he stumbles over to the table like a zombie. His eyes are open again, but droop like a sleepwalker’s eyes. He musters enough control over his motor functions to pick up the now lukewarm cup of tea, bringing it to his lips and sips. Once he takes the first swig of tea, whatever doubt that was on his face disappears. The tea relaxes him even more, not just the hypnotic properties but the warm liquid streaming down his throat. That dumb smile of his replaces the look of confusion.

“Good boy.” She tells him and sees a slight reaction, for a moment he shows a hint of pride before the dull, sleepy look returns. “Sit back down, Timmy.” The boy’s body obeys her commands.

His butt plots down in the chair. “Look up, Timmy.” She says. When his head tilts up and faces her, he can’t help but stare at her feet. Or rather, slightly ed her feet at her. Close enough, she figures.

“What do you see, Timmy?”

His brain takes a moment to compute. She smiles at how dumb he looks; her dumb, soon to be obedient, boy. “You.”

“Good boy.” She has plans for that phrase, she wants it to be a phrase that controls his cock and his brain. “Who am I?”

“Professor Messina.”

“Good boy.” The positive affirmations help assign the words an important place in his mind, a feeling of pleasure from being correct. She’ll use that pleasure to make the boy plead on his hands and knees to please her.

“What of Professor Messina do you see most?” She wonders if his sleepy brain will understand a more complex question, but eventually, and with great apprehension, he responds. “Your feet.”

“Good boy.” This time she let her feet dance, swaying back and forth as her toes wiggle. She feels the cool basement air run through her toes, she adores the feeling. Since as far back as she could her feet were always more sensitive than the rest of her body. “Keep staring at my feet, Timmy.”

He opens his mouth as if to protest, but his jaw ends up hanging open as a thick line of drool departs from his lips. Deanna has to resist laughing but the picture is too perfect; her brainless boytoy ready to be moulded.

She writes: Subject follows limited orders. Minor instructions such as general questions and simple, innocuous commands. (Subject was convinced to stare at my feet, there is no reaction that can be gleaned at this time from this interaction regarding the subjects interest in feet sexually.)

Deanna stops moving her feet and the boy’s eyes are still locked on them. Even just having him stare at her soles is enough to get Deanna aroused, but there is work to be done.

“Timmy, tell me about your feelings about feet.” Daenna says as she gets ready to write. Then, as the boy speaks, she dot-jots what he says.

“I find them gross...” He says she prods him to continue and he does. “They look ugly... they have a nasty smell... and only weirdos are into them...” The boy talks sluggishly.

She expects this, but nevertheless she continues. “Drink more of your tea, Timmy.” She prompts and to her satisfaction he obeys, taking a long swig of his hot hypnotic drink until the placid look returns to his eyes. It wasn’t a large cup so Deanna tells him to drink the rest and he obeys.

He seems to be lost in a daydream, his eyes wander away from her soles so she says “Look back to my feet, Timmy.” And he does. “You like looking at my feet.” She says and he becomes fixated on her smooth soles and dancing toes. His face has a blank but happy look to it as his body slowly drifts from side to side trying to stay upright. Deanna saw the tent in his underwear

and was glad that she was already to begin to associate her feet with arousal. But, of course, there was a lot more to do and to get started with.

“Stand up Timmy.” The boy obeys and stands up which gives Deanna a wonderful view of his hard cock trying to break free of his underwear. In his sleepy state, Tim tries to cover his groin with his hands but Deanna interrupts “Don’t hide yourself, darling. Least of all from me.” And he obeys even with resistance wrinkling his frown.

Deanna was nervous for this next part, but the boy looks like he already has one foot in a dream so she presses on and unlocks the door to his “room.” He makes no movement to escape. “Come here, Timmy. Come with me.”

He walks like a drunken man behind Deanna, walking through the door and into the rest of the basement. After being told to lie down on the maroon sofa, Tim obeys and Deanna takes her place on the chair which she turns to face the couch and where Tim lies. Once again she slips out of her slippers and kicks up her feet, only now she rests her heels on Tims chest, presenting her soles right in front of his face. His eyes gloss over them but seem interested enough where Deanna writes down that the boy is starting to pay attention to feet, although it’s only because he’s been made specifically aware of them.

With her bare feet right beside each other only a few inches from her subject’s face, Deanna seduces in a wispy voice. “Look at my soft and smooth soles as I stretch my toes back, Timmy. They look sexy. Hot. Arousing. Doesn’t it just make you so horny?” His eyes looked at her feet with attention but they were far from convinced. She rubs her hand over his groin, feeling his long shaft through his underpants before she continues. “Look at the curve of my arch as it flows up to the balls of my feet. Don’t my soles look so comfortable and warm? Like nuzzling your pillow after a long, tiring day, don’t you just want to bury your face between my feet and inhale all of my fragrant foot odour?” Still more, Timmy isn’t convinced.

Nevertheless, Deanna presses on and presses down her feet onto his face. The balls of her feet cushion down on either side of her face as his nose rests in the nook her arches create. Her toes lay scrunched on his forehead. Once more she speaks in her sultry voice which flames the young man’s lust. “Sniff it, boy. Sniff my stinky mature feet.” She’s pleased when she feels the cool air of his inhalations as he obeys. She writes down the results: With arousal built from fondling the subject’s genitalia, the subject has been sent into a deeper state of suggestibility to the point where he now obeys orders involving smelling my feet.

Satisfying his hard cock is all that matters as he remains in his addled state, his mind in a dense haze and his arousal mounting to a climax. Her voice is strong, demanding but comforting. He heard her almost daily in lecture and even before now had fantasised about her to orgasm a few times, yet now here she was in the flesh only it was not like his fantasies. Never had they included feet.

Without warning or will to stop it, her aged soles come down onto his face and engulf his vision in a sea of wrinkled pale waves before he sees nothing as the soft balls of her feet cover his eyes. Then the smell hit him. It reminds him of when you first open a bag of corn chips, yet they also share a sharp cheddar smell which assaults the nose and stings the eyes. Deanna Messina often wore nylons in tight leather heels when she worked and Timmy guesses that that’s what made them smell so sour, so sharp, so corny. He also thought about how they were old lady feet and he shuttered.

Tim stirs. He feels more of his brain come to life and he begins to wonder what exactly is happening before he hears “Touch your cock.” It was the sexy voice. The one that moved his dick with her words alone. He had forgotten he had control of his hand, it seems like a wondrous thing, but it isn’t until she says “go on, baby, touch your cock for me,” he gains autonomy and moves his fingers to his boner strained under his underwear.

“Go ahead. Really touch it.” The voice encourages. His fingers slip underneath the waistline and find their way around his shaft, his engorged member warm and thick around his palm. “Take your cock out. Show it to me.”

Tim has never had sex, but he did show a girl his penis once in high school, after she pressured him into it. Beyond that, no one has ever seen it. The alarm bells ring out in his head but with his cock in his grasp and his arousal spiking with every convincing word the woman in front of him says, Tim’s other hand comes over and lowers his briefs, unveiling his hard, uncut cock and bustle of untrimmed, brown hair.

He hears a moan escape his captor’s lip, one of her feet departs from his face and he regains half of his field of vision. Professor Messina has snaked her fingers into her pants and is masturbating. He has never seen a woman touch herself, only fuck herself with a dildo in porn, but it’s such an intimate act it made his already risen cock ache with lust, as his mind is hit with another haze of arousal and submission. Then his precum dripping member is met with the soft sole of his professor’s foot before the foot on his face begins to rub up and down on his face almost as if patting him fondly. “Feeeeeet...” The words feel like they come from his mind rather than her mouth. She says more but he can’t quite catch it all, only bits and pieces of her words. “Sub... Footboy...” and then repeated over again, “Sniff.” He does.

Her toes enclose around his nose and the air that his nostrils suck in is corrupted with the corny aroma he was beginning to grow accustomed to. Then the woman’s skillful toes on her opposite foot find their way around his shaft and stroke it slowly and steadily, teasing him as he takes another big whiff at the space where her toes meet her soles. During each breath drawing in more tainted foot odor he is lucid enough to realise something is wrong, that this woman has him around her finger (or rather under her foot) and he is helpless, unless he acts. But then, as the pungent scent dissipates inside his mind, he is left in a fog of lust and need which is then met by the comforting touch of the mature woman’s foot rubbing his member. He sniffs again and relapses.

His hips begin to hump against her foot, but she interjects “uh uh uh, Timmy. Keep that ass on the sofa.” He stops. For a moment he looks around and questions his surroundings, but the foot against his face presses in and the foot on his cock quickens its pace. “Let Mistress pleasure you honey, just relax, breathe in and out. And sniff. And obey.” And he does that as well and with the continuous simulation he slips back into his placid, stupid state.

His breathing falls into a steady pace as he becomes accustomed to the stink of the air he’s inhaling and the pleasure of Dr. Messina’s silklike sole rubbing his shaft. Tim couldn’t tell if he was in a dream or nightmare; his dick would say dream but whatever was left of his brain fought against the cloud of foot stank he was sniffing like a bloodhound.

“Timmy,” Her voice hit him like a slap, knocking his attention back to her, “I need you to do something for me.”

He nods and keeps nodding. He lets out a moan which must be a yes. “Lick.”

His tongue shot out of his mouth like he was a frog and her meaty mature sole was a fly. Immediately the salt from the sweat resting on the bottom of her foot pricks his taste buds before the vinegar sour taste follows and lingers on the tongue.

“Yes...” Her voice is butter in his ears, “keep licking, boy. Lick and lick and lick... like an obedient puppy.” Her other foot rubbing his cock fell in sync with the pace of his lapping mouth and soon the feeling of his tongue running over her smooth wrinkles of her soles was indistinguishable from her foot job.

“That’s it boy... lose your virginity to my stinky, mature feet.” She giggles.

“Deeper and deeper and deeper...” She continues as he finds uncharted territory to lick.

“Worship and worship and worship...” The arousal building is becoming too much. He doesn’t stop licking.

“Obey and obey and obey...” Her one foot stops jerking his dick. Her other foot hovers in front of his nose for the stink to hit his brain.

“You love feet...” The words were familiar but they didn’t carry as nasty an implication. Tim grunts in response as he teeters on the edge of orgasm from his professor’s foot.

“Look how sexy my feet are... how delicious... how fragrant...” Tim sluggishly nods, once again transfixed by the foot in front of his eyes.

“They are pleasure, they are power, they are perfect... They are pleasure, they are power, they are perfect... They are pleasure, they are power, they are perfect... ”

She repeats herself with a low, silky voice as the foot on his dick continues slow strokes which steadily quicken. Tim squirms in pleasure as her words surround him.

Then in a whisper. “Say you love my feet.”

Tim barely recalled saying it later on, but in a faint release he breathes the words, “I love your feet.”

“Cum.” And he did.—

It was amusing seeing him squirm with pleasure to have it burst out from his cock like confetti out of a cannon, coating her bare sole. With her other foot, she clamps her big toe and index toe around his nose. Then in a whisper she says: “Sleep.” And the already sleepy boy instantly went back under.

Now she had a deeply entranced young man and a cum soaked foot, so she licks his spunk off her sole and drags him back to his home. She takes off his underwear, he won’t be needing it anyways, and tucks him into bed, but laying the heels she had been wearing on his face, his nose on the insole like it’s a gas mask.

“Good boy,” She coos, petting his hair as she whispers into his ear. “Dream of my feet. Smell the stink of my sweaty heels, feel yourself wanting to obey...” She has no doubt the hypnosis had a deep effect. The boy lost his virginity to her soles while under it, after all.

Before leaving, she jots down more notes: Subject has taken to the first set of tests wonderfully. After being brought fully under, the subject was responsive to the foot-based stimuli, achieving orgasm. It is hypothesised the first suggestions towards foot fetishism and pleasure have been implanted. Further tests to findings need to be conducted.

She has dinner plans, so she lets Timmy sleep longer while she goes out. It’s not until past midnight when Deanna is back home and able to check on her little science experiment. Evidently, Timmy had taken to the first session brilliantly. From the hidden camera Deanna kept in his “room”, she saw how he spent most of the time sleeping with his nose still firmly nestled in her stilettos, occasionally sporting a boner like he was having the most fantastical erotic dreams. When he woke up briefly, it was dark out, he took a few sniffs of the heels insole, but only after another round of sniffs did he throw it down onto the floor. That was before he turned over and went back to sleep, as hard as steel.

No matter, she has plans of her own. She comes down to the basement with a bin from her laundry, clothing pins and twine.

He wakes up with that familiar smell in his nostrils. He tries to sniff for clean air but the smell of that woman and her fragrant feet is everywhere that his helpless nose can inhale.

It’s early in the morning, only a little shade of light is peaking in through the windows. Tim looks out to the rest of the room and can notice some changes but he’s unsure what exactly they are. Drapes hanging from the ceiling? No. He put it together. It was her previously worn pantyhose she was leaving out to dry in the basement, right outside where he slept. The smell was inescapable.

He can only small bits from the day before, things like the hypnotic tea and her feet. He was certain of her feet. Suddenly, he feels uncomfortable because of how aware he is of his dick right now.

He re this smell as her surprisingly soft soles rubbed up and down his crotch. He re her gentle voice guiding him along, commanding him and eventually, bringing him to sleep.

The next morning Deanna delivers Timmy breakfast, a tray of sunny side up eggs, crispy pan fried bacon, toast with jam and marmalade, and a steamy cup of tea.

She notices he seems cranky. No doubt from the nylons dangling above his head. He digs into the food, but pushes the tea away. “You don’t suspect me to believe this is normal tea again, do you?”

“Oh no Timmy, I don’t think you’re stupid. That’s the hypnotic tea, alright. I’m afraid it’s essential for the experiment.”

“I don’t want to be part of your experiment, lady!” He shouts, bits of egg spraying out his mouth.

“It didn’t seem that way yesterday. You seemed to be coming around to it.” Deanna crosses a leg over, she’s wearing flip flops giving him a full display of the feet he lost his virginity to the day before.

“You drugged me. Hypnotised me.”

“Yes,” The flip flop falls to the floor. Her mature toes stretch out as she lifts her foot upwards, “and wasn’t it lovely?”

“No,” his voice was weak. His eyes hesitate on her foot in front of the bars. “Have a sip. It makes going under much easier. But it’s not impossible without it.”

Even with the tea far from him, Deanna knew it would still be having some impact. Yet it wasn’t enough.

“And now with the pantyhose hanging up. Like, what is that? You’re some freaky lady. And my underwear! Where did that go? I’m not doing anything for you until I get some clothes.” Timmy goes on.

Deanna is silent for a moment then nods. “Fine, if that’s what you want. I think I can accept that deal. You drink the tea for your underwear.” Her plan was to keep the underwear as a trophy for him being the first foot boy she captured, but she has another plan.

Timmy raises an eyebrow. “Um. No. I mean...”

“That’s what you said.” She sighs, what a bore.

“Fine. Well, um. My underwear... and my shirt!”

More silence. She squints at him. “Fine. Now after you have your drink I’ll get your clothes back for you.”

“No. Clothes first.”

Deanna grits her teeth. “Alright.”

Soon enough Tim has his underwear back on and his shirt covering his torso. Deanna prompts him, pointing to the once hot, now warm, cup of tea. Tim looks with hesitance, but given his circumstances he nods. “But if I drink this, and you take my clothes again, I’m not drinking anything else for you again. I promise.”

“Oh,” Deanna says, “Of course.” And she was telling the truth she had neither the tea leaves nor the patience to have him go under using the hypnotic drink every time. Instead, she has to install a positive reinforcement associating feet with trance, and both with pleasure and obedience.

With satisfaction, Deanna watches as Tim picks up the porcelain cup from the table and raises it to his lips. His gaze cautiously meets her placid eyes which reveal nothing, and then he takes a sip of the tea. His face doesn’t hide the pleasure the tea brings him, from the warm liquid

quenching his dry throat, but also the entrancing effects already taking place in him. With his clothes on Deanna can’t see a boner or no boner, but if she were to guess, he was getting rather uncomfortable in those pants.

“Now... let’s begin.”

He is on both knees on the floor. In front of him is a chair, although from his angle it looks much more like a throne. On it sits a woman he recognizes, she is beautiful and seeing her makes his body and heart yearn for her. His hands, he realises, are occupied. He is massaging her feet, a gorgeous pair of bare feet with soles that feel tender in his hands and emit a stink that tingles his nose in the best way. His nose gingerly sniffs the air to get more of that vinegar laden fragrance that was driving him mad with lust and hears the woman’s laugh and feels good he made her happy. His cock is hard and free.

With the object of his lust in his hands, he wants to raise them to his nose and inhale that pungent odour that had piqued a curiosity in his mind that he feels he’s experienced before and wants to again with such desperation. Like a primal desire, he wants to lick up her heels to her toes and suck on and savour each one. Instead, he continues to knead his fingers into the soles of her feet with great focus, his eyes watching every press and caress his fingers perform on her foot.

He gazes up to gauge her reaction. She is ignoring him, on her phone with her attention away. He doesn’t care, he is pleased she is content.

The massage goes on, his fingers enjoy the exploration into the wrinkles of her soles and the gentle tendering of his thumbs into the balls of her feet, yet as he continues he begins to think less and less about her feet. Every inhale through the nose brings him back to the task at hand. The stink makes him drift away as he stares at the lines on her feet, but every so often, after she moves or he looks up to see her reaction, he begins to have a small thought about what he was doing and who she was.

Well, his teacher, of course. Then he stops massaging her feet for a moment. He notices that she looks up from her phone. He meets her eye and frowns.

Suddenly, the situation has become apparent for Tim. He is kneeling on the floor naked, massaging his crazy professor’s nasty feet. His face turns to disgust and Deanna’s face flashes her knowing smile, like she’s the spider bemused that the fly learned it’s been tied in its web.

Tim stands up and immediately begins to scan around for his clothes that once again have disappeared. “You went back on the deal, you old hag!”

Deanna gasps. Tim sees her reaction: genuine offence. “Pardon me! I’m midway through my 40’s!”

”Give me my clothes! I swear, I won’t ever drink anything you give me ever again since you broke our agreement.” Tim huffs, but then he makes another realisation; he is out of his cell and lucid enough to be in control of his actions.

Before he lets his captor correct her mistake, he turns around and springs towards the stairs. Behind him, Deanna is still sitting, muttering, “Old. Pff. The way those students stare at me...”

Tim is practically at the first step when he hears, ”sleepy feet” and instantly the fog of Deanna’s spell over him clouds his head and he slows down, his mind growing tired as his cock springs to life. He can still feel the residual foot sweat from his professor on his hands and he puts them to his face, covering his mouth and nose and inhaling the traces of odour he can gleam. It sends his mind further into the trance.

”Sleepy feet,”the voice says again, it sounds so far away yet he clings to its melodic sound which reverberates in his head over and over again as images of thick, wrinkly soles enter his mind’s eye, aged with mature beauty. He feels himself growing tired of resisting, wanting to let go and sink into the bliss the feet offer. Then, as he hovers feet away from the steps up, he hears once again, “Sleepy feet.”

Once again, Tim is on his knees at her feet while she sits above him on her throne. His face has that dumb look that has practically become etched into his expression at this point, given how often he is blissed out by Deanna’s hypnosis. He’s under well, Deanna thinks, and continues to show promise in his susceptibility to her influence. But, as she was just shown, Deanna knows that even though the seed for his emerging fetish has been implanted, the mind’s mental barriers are blocking him from letting himself accept his growing desires.

“Lay down,” She speaks and he obeys, slinking down to the grown onto his back. Then, Deanna stretches out her legs before lowering her feet onto her hapless victim’s zoned out face, her arches perfectly shaped to his face giving her feet a comfortable rest. With herself seated on her throne with her footrest in his rightful spot, Deanna took out her notebook and jotted down her recent findings as well as Timmy’s attempt to fly the coop.

“Boy,” She says, hardly taking a moment to glance his way, “start sniffing. I want to hear you huffing my rank feet, alright? Sniff away all those pesky thoughts that come, unless those thoughts are about my feet, of course...hehe.”

Timmy’s nose went to work with eagerness as he inhales the strong odour emanating from Deanna’s soles like he was a pig snorting for truffles. The airwaves flowing into his nostrils brushes ed Deanna’s skin and tickles her, but the cool breeze mostly just feels nice. More

time es than Deanna cared to let elapse, so she orders the now thoroughly dazed and foot-funked Timmy to go back to his bedroom, which he shuffles off to as if he’s lost in a dream. She lays him down in his bed and tucks some sweaty nylons under his nose and the other pair over his cock as she teases him with her fingers. “Timmy, I want you to stroke for me. Stroke for me and sniff my dirty nylons. Jerk my moist pantyhose over your cock as you inhale my foot fumes.”

He doesn’t need much convincing. Soon he’s doing exactly as she says, sniffing and stroking and stroking and sniffing. “Good boy, Timmy.” Deanna whispers before kissing his head and leaving him, furiously beating off to her mature pantyhose stench.

As Deanna notes down later in bed as she reflects back on the day’s training Timmy’s progress is exceptional and the current procedures are working as intended. She plans to continue the experiment in the same way the next day, and monitor it again and compare. Then repeat until progress slows.

Of course, the next day Timmy is more defiant than ever. Sulking in the corner, refusing to move from his bed or eat breakfast or even acknowledge Deanna’s presence. It’s what Deanna had expected, of course, and naturally it doesn’t phase her. She already has today’s experiment planned ahead of time. In her hands are a particularly worn-in pair of heels with her feet making a permanent imprint on the insole and years worth of sweat stains darkening it. She places the heels inside Timmy’s room. He glances at them for a moment, then looks away again.

“Well, Timmy. If you want to have it your way, then we can just do what we did yesterday. Do you that command?”

That caught his attention. She makes eye with one of his eyes as he answers, “Yes.” The word came out a little distant, Deanna can tell he was thinking of it. “Please. Not that.” He scoots to the edge of the bed and faces her. She notices his cum dried on his stomach and cock and as he eyes fall lower she sees both pairs of nylons discarded underneath the bed, crumpled up and no doubt seeped in cum. “What do you want from me?” He asks.

Deanna smiles, but does not let it widen into a gloat. “Nothing, really. I just want you to answer some questions, so I can better evaluate your reception to the experiment.”

Timmy is quiet, then nods. After a quick trip back upstairs to get her notebook and a chair, Deanna pulls it in front of Timmy along with a stool which she then rests her feet on so her soles are facing Timmy and pull his eyes with their allure, but he is still resisting. He is struggling to keep eye with her now that her bare feet are between them and his less than limp cock is his final tell.

“How do you feel about feet now, Timmy?”

“It’s Tim...” He sighs, “and they’re... I still don’t like them.” He huffs.

“No?” Deanna asks, scooting the chair and the stool forward until her feet are practically touching the bars in front of Timmy, who looks to be on the verge of breaking a sweat in order not to look at her wrinkled arches. Deanna is aware of her foot stink and has always prided herself on it, and now as she is a few feet away from him, she knows her foot fragrance is wafting over to him. “Are you sure?” Her toes wiggle in a dance.

Tim shuffles on the bed, now he can’t make eye and looks elsewhere. “No. Well, yes. I mean I’m sure.”

“You don’t feel the need to worship my feet? To bathe them with your tongue, to kiss them with iration, to massage and please them?” Deanna asks.

His cock twitches as it grows more interested. “No,” he says.

“No?” Her foot raises so it’s closer to his nose which flares when it catches that smell. She thinks he’s about to break and look at her feet, but he doesn’t, instead he reiterates: “No.”

Deanna is surprised. Perhaps he does have more willpower than she thought, something she’ll have to note later. For now though, the next part of the experiment can go underway. “Oh. Okay. Well, I suppose it didn’t work then.” Deanna stands up and slips her feet back into her fuzzy slippers.

Tim raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Yep. You win. For today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, Deanna turns around and leaves, yet she leaves her thoroughly worn heels with their ruminating fragrance and ingrained sweat in Timmy’s room.

After she leaves, Tim stares at the heels left in his area which feel like they stare back at him with the imprint of Deanna’s soles drawing his gaze. His hunger snaps him away from the heels to stop himself from getting lost in the foot shape that was calling his attention, even as it was leaving his vision. He’s wary of the food Deanna serves him but he is hungry and is beginning to get the feeling Deanna has moved away from drugging him and is now going wacko for this hypnotism stuff.

He re a snapshot of the day before, a faded image of himself laying down beneath his captor with her wide feet above his nose area and engulfing his sense of smell in a foot flavoured fog. He shakes his head and takes a bite of his food.

For the rest of the day, Tim tries to find things to do to distract himself from the pair of heels on the floor driving him wild. They occupy a space in his mind that his attention always beckons for

and he can only avert his eyes for so long, and he worries, if his eyes linger on them too long, he may lose control of what willpower she left him with. So he looks for things to do. On the shelves, besides the used pantyhose and sneakers which weren’t as enticing, perhaps because they’d been there since he first got there and wouldn’t have their same stink.

But there were books now, which weren’t there before, and must’ve been put there while he was under hypnosis. He saw them when he woke up but only now does he pull out one of the three books. It’s a nice leather-bound novel, although Tim wasn’t sure it was genuine, with a red colour with gold trim and lettering spelling “Tall Tales at Club Hosiery by Vivian Holloway” and he flips to the first page.

He reads a page before he begins to suspect what the book is truly about and why Deanna has it, but he keeps reading. The book’s author tells of a club she runs and some of the things that go on there, and although Tim only progresses a few pages into the first chapters he finds it hard to believe it’s based on reality. He finds the things he expects to find; feet, hypnosis and crazy women, and he knows Deanna has put them there as another one of her twisted games. But, Tim is bored and now that he has the day to himself, he keeps reading.

Tim gets quite far into the book before his eyes begin to strain and the position he sits in begins to become uncomfortable so he sets it down. In the opening chapters, the book details how some of the wait staff are brought in, some were told it pays well and others told there’ll be sexy, well-dressed older women and agreed and others even knew about the hypnosis and still agreed. After the interviewing process, they bring the staff into the “orientation” room where the first string of subliminal’s play, dousing the young men in suggestive content and opening their minds to feet. Timmy shivers, he visualises Deanna as one of these Club Hosiery women.

The women get the men to massage their feet while they serve them food and drinks. They get tips, but it always leads to more. Eventually, the male staff find themselves sniffing the pungent feet of their mature customers, licking their steamy feet right out of their heels and sucking on their middle aged-toes. The males become deeper entrenched in the foot programming, foot stink and taste driving them mad with obsession and that obsession moulding them into the perfectly trained employees, truly ready to attend to whatever matter these ladies may need.

By the time Tim closes the book, his cock is hard and he’s imagining Deanna’s feet in one of her nylon pairs of pantyhose, the way the material wraps around her pedicured toes and glides along the curve of her arches.

His eyes glance over to the pair of heels Deanna left for Tim. They were maroon with a tan insole that did a good job of showing the darkened sweat stained foot imprint left by Deanna. He lets his eyes linger, he finds himself appreciating the design of a woman’s heel, the rich curves of the leather, the fine stitching and the elegant form. It’s strong and seductive. He wonders what it smells like.

It’s not long before he finds himself picking up the heels and sitting back down with them in his hands, the insoles facing up at him. Even when they’re away from his face his nose can the sharp smell he’s becoming familiar with. He raises them up, thinking how this is a bad idea but his need begs for him to continue and he does, putting his nose into the heel and flattening it against the insole before whiffing its stench up with ferocity.

The smell hits his brain and sends him reeling along with a head rush of pleasure as he lets out a moan before he goes in for another whiff. Greedily, his tongue darts from between his lips and tastes the insole, picking up more of the vinegary taste he was craving. He barely realises he’s fondling his shaft as he’s sniffing and occasionally tasting his professor’s heel as he lays back down in his bed.

The nude young man begins to stroke himself more explicitly as his hungry tongue travels up the insole, from deep in the toe bed up the tan leather to the top of the groove at the heel. Once that shoe’s taste is spent, he casts it to the floor and picks up the other and then begins to sniff that one as well. Soon enough as the same process is done, the pump has his tongue inside it scouring the inside’s for that nectar that Timmy finds so alluring. And as his stroking quickens and his worship of the insole deepens, Timmy finds himself letting go of his load in a haze of pleasure as a small whimper escapes his lips and is muffled by the heel.

It is not until the other heel clatters to the ground and Timmy rolls back after he spent himself that he notices Deanna standing on the bottom of the stairs with an inquisitive look and her notebook in her hands as she jots down words. “Wonderful Timmy! Just wonderful! Not only was that a beautiful sight to behold, but you broke quicker than I expected. Both in how quickly you ejaculated, as well as how swiftly you succumb to my stinky heels. Don’t worry, darling, there’ll be more of that. Why, you haven’t even touched the sneakers and nylons I already left for you yet.”

He looks up at her abashedly, his face turning a warm shade of red. Deanna lifts up her heel, scrunching her toes and bringing attention to them as Timmy finds himself caught by her action, followed by the pencil scribbling words on the page. “Oh, going to write down that I simply glanced over at your foot.”

“Of course. Mm, love the way you say ‘foot’, like a school boy afraid of his crush.” She says bemused. “Well, I’ll leave you now, Timmy. I see you and my heels have a long day ahead of you. Toodaloo.”

With progress moving along smoothly, Deanna decides she needs to continue to dial it up. It is clear sexual arousal has been gained from her feet, but he is still denying it to himself. The end goal was complete surrender to his fetish, where feet will rule his sexual desires. The complete reversal from revulsion to obsession was the essence of her experiment, and she felt like she

was proving her own hypothesis right daily, that the mind is susceptible enough to accept anything under the right influence.

She thinks that stepping away from the tea was the right step, but she wants to incorporate his senses as those sway the mind more than words alone and both together is ideal.

The next day she makes a bold step. She unlocks the door to his cordoned off space and then walks over to the sitting area on the other side of the room, taking a seat on her throne waiting for him. Timmy watches with curiosity and suspicion, a common look on his face, but doesn’t move right away. She knows that he knows she can use the command to prevent him from escaping, yet he stays in his area watching Deanna as she slips out of her heels.

“I had to run to do some chores. Boring work stuff, so I was on campus in these heels all day. And that heat out there! You’re lucky to be in here.” She says, putting her nylon encased feet out onto the stool in front of her.

“I know what you’re doing.” Timmy says in a huff.

“What do you mean, dear? Oh, yes I’m stretching my aching sweaty feet out for you to see.”

“No. You want me to come over there.”

“Of course, Timmy. I would love eager man hands on my aching feet. Or better yet, your eager tongue along my soles” Deanna says.

“Well, I won’t.” He says, looking away.

“Alright, then.” Deanna says, pulling out her phone and scrolling on it.

She keeps Timmy in the corner of her eye and sees his occasional glances that begin to linger. So, she begins to strip out of her nylons, pulling up her skirt to lower her nylons and step out of them. She is aware of Timmy’s eyes as she peels the nylons off her smooth long legs, the material sticking to her sweat misted skin, her coloured toes pointed as she pulls the stocking off fully. The cool basement air feels refreshing on her claustrophobic feet and she really did want a massage now, but she wouldn’t force it.

Timmy makes a dash for it. Deanna watches intently, she expects this. She wonders if he is sprinting for the stairs at full speed or if there is some dawdling in his pace. Either way, she says “sleepy feet,” and he falls into trance.

“Come here, Timmy.” And so the naked entranced young man obeys, shuffling over to her, his head completely out of it although his mind’s still receptive. She inspects his nude body, her sexual hunger begging her to take him upstairs and let him ravish her. If only that wouldn’t taint the experiment.

“Kneel.” He does. “Good boy. I’m going to wake you up from the trance, but you will stay in that position. On your knees, arms behind your back and hands away from your penis.” She snaps her fingers and he wakes up.

“What the—?” He looks around, tries to move and sees what his captor has done. “What the hell do you want now?”

“Watch the attitude boy.” Her feet are only a foot away from him. The smell is affecting him, it has caught his attention as his nose twitches.

For a moment he is lost in space, then shakes his head before looking back up at Deanna’s eyes. “Why don’t you just save me the hassle and use that command to make me kiss your feet?”

“You want that, don’t you? Then you wouldn’t be to blame.” His face goes red. Deanna continues: “Either way, I want you to ask me. I want you to ask me to kiss my stinky feet.”

“In your dreams.”

“Fine. Try to resist. I’ll have my feet here, right in front of your face, and we’ll see if you can resist. I’ll set a 10 minute timer. If after those 10 minutes you decide you don’t want to ask to kiss my feet, you can go back to your room.”

“My cage,” he mutters.

“Alright, setting the timer now.” Deanna starts it.

At first, she has a doubt that her plan was really as ingenious as she thought it was because he doesn’t seem to have much reaction, but then Deanna realises why, he is breathing solely through his mouth. Seeing the way his eyes trace over every curve and wrinkle of the bottoms of her bare feet, it’s clear to Deanna that he is growing to be infatuated with her feet in a sexual manner, yet it was the sense of smell that would be more influential in persuading him to ask to kiss her feet.

“Come on Timmy, you’re really depriving yourself of the chance to smell my feet from the source? Were you not the young man furiously fondling yourself to my worn-in heels yesterday? Once this timer goes off, I’m going upstairs and you won’t get to smell my feet for the rest of the day.” Deanna reasons, to which his eyes twitch and his mouth is practically drooling. He feels like a domino to her, ready to fall at the mere flick of a finger.

“Timmy, be a Good Boy and smell my feet.” She watches as the prick between his legs bounces with enthusiasm. Timmy’s mouth shuts and he gives them a curious sniff and his eyes brighten

with life. His face goes the same shade of red from the day before when he was caught with his hands around his cock.

Of course, he can’t help himself, after he gets a taste with that small sniff. His nostrils widen as he sucks in more air, his eyes practically rolling back in his skull as he does so. He is now sniffing more frequently and deeper, as well as for longer periods of time, breathing in the odour of her feet like it was burning incense. As he smells, that dreamy expression he gets when he’s entranced begins to return. Deanna notes the positive loop the hypnosis provides, it creates pleasure through feet and the smell of her feet becomes associated with the suggestible state, which in turn creates more pleasure and more association and thus more suggestibility.

“Timmy, do you want to kiss my feet?” Deanna asks.

There is a pause, a moment of brain processing. “Yes.” He says it with assurance, more openly now that he’s suggestible.

“Then ask me, Timmy.”

Another pause, this time one of doubt. Deanna continues on, she doesn’t want to let any pesky rebellious thoughts interrupt his openness. “You want to kiss my feet, right, Timmy?”

“Yes.”

“And the only way to kiss my feet is to ask me, understand?”

“Yes.”

“So ask me. Ask to kiss my feet, because that’s what you want.” Deanna explains. Timmy is still smelling, his eyes dimming with each sniff. “Can I kiss your feet?”

Deanna shakes her head sombrely. “Oh no, Timmy. Not like that at all. You need to be much more polite and gracious, also I believe originally I wanted you to ask to kiss my stinky feet. So, ask nicely to kiss my stinky feet.”

Timmy inhales another bundle of foot air. “May I please kiss your stinky feet?” “Professor Messina. My title, please Timmy, some respect.”

“Professor Messina, may I please kiss your stinky feet?”

Deanna smiles. With the help of her foot stink, Timmy is going under easily and every time it seems to be easier. She hopes to associate obedience as well as openness about her feet as

submission is a part of the experience, she feels. “Yes, Timmy. You may. Thank you for asking so nicely.”

With her permission, Timmy leans in and starts nuzzling his face into the pillowy bottoms of her feet making sure to burrow his nose in her soft toe bed, where the stink congregates, before planting kisses all along her soles. He kisses across the foot, down her arch to her smooth heel. He showers her one foot with kisses, covering its entire surface area in his adoring pecks before presenting one on each toe, before moving onto the next foot where he does the same thing. Deanna smiles brightly, seeing devotion and adoration that she hadn’t seen before. While her bare feet are showered with love, she pulls out her notebook and reports her findings.

“Look at you. I think perhaps you should thank me.” Deanna says, feeling greedy and lustful.

“Thank you for letting me kiss your stinky feet, Professor Messina.” Timmy says when he breaks from kissing her soles.

Deanna is more than pleased. She didn’t prompt him to say all that, but he is a quick learner and is showing true devotion.

“Worship them, Timmy.” She tells him, watching his iring eyes being pulled by the allure of her feet. He leans in and begins to make out with her soles, kissing them with his tongue and sucking on her meaty feet.

“Do you love my feet, Timmy?” She asks as he is sucking on her pink toe and index toe. He takes her foot out to answer, “yes.” Then he returns to his task.

Soon, her left foot is heavily slobbered on from her new assistant’s eager mouth and so Timmy begins to attend to her right foot. Meanwhile, Deanna writes down her observations, the journal she’s writing in becoming quite full with expansive notes. She feels a thrill at the thought of typing it up into an essay and getting one of her professor friends to read it. Or perhaps she could share it anonymously, she thinks to herself.

“Wonderful Timmy, just wonderful. Tell me Timmy, would you like to spend the evening with me upstairs rather than in that rather dismal, but nice in its own right, place down here?” She asks.

“Yes please Professor.” Timmy responds, looking up from behind her toes.

The professor thinks for a moment before she moves forward with the idea. “Alright. But you will be sleeping down here tonight. Just until I can trust you. But before that, you can help me with dinner and then we can do something after dinner.” Deanna says, watching her words. She doesn’t want to interfere with the experiment, but she does want to let Timmy out of the basement. Additionally, she knows he’ll be more open about his new fondness for feet, if it results in more freedom.

And so, right after she forces him to sniff whatever foot smell he may have left on her feet to make sure his mind was pliable, she leads him upstairs.

Timmy feels euphoric after a session at Deanna’s feet. He can’t understand why he was resisting before when smelling her glorious feminine scent that tingles his nose and worshipping her supple elegant feet fills him with so much pleasure and purpose. He hardly notices he’s nude and instead, with every glance that he catches Deanna’s wandering eyes, he feels a bit of flattery.

As Deanna begins to prepare dinner, she lets Timmy sit on a chair and watch. She gives him her nylons that she took off, still damp with sweat, and lets him sniff them as she prepares her meal. Timmy finds his eyes constantly falling to her feet in their fuzzy slippers that framed her pedicured toes and round heels perfectly. He doesn’t realise he’s drooling onto the stockings.

After his professor’s meal is ready, she orders him to sit at her feet under the table and massage them as she eats. He slinks to the floor and takes her feet into his hands and lovingly provides them with the same care that he gave them before.

As he rubs her mature feet, he listens to what she tells him. “You know Timmy, if you want to be a good assistant to me and my feet, you really need to learn how to cook for me. I don’t have time to make meals and I don’t want to take any more time out of my research.”

He nods along yet his gaze never leaves her feet. She continues: “And other things, like getting pedicures. It’s vital for my research, as you prove, yet I can’t do any reading at that noisy nail salon. If you could give me pedicures, I could conduct my studies while having my feet tended to. Win-win, right Timmy?”

“Right, Professor.” Timmy says.

”Alright Timmy, you can come out from there. I’m done with my food, you can clear the table and meet me on the couch. Oh, and bring me another glass of wine. Actually, might as well bring me my glass and the bottle.”

Timmy does as she says; he puts her plate in the sink then grabs the bottle of wine and her glass. It’s not a far walk to the room with the TV where Deanna was, but as Timmy stood naked with a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass with lipstick stains in the other hand, he suddenly wonders what he’s doing. He began to walk anyway knowing that he was heading in that direction towards his professor’s feet and as he thinks about why he’s letting himself get pulled to her feet, he freezes.

He knows where the front door is and can leave, he feels somewhat certain he could sneak out before she catches him. He then thinks how he can just plug his ears, he could have done that

the whole time. Why didn’t he? Did she do something with her hypnosis to keep him from thinking about that? He didn’t think so.

”Timmy? Where are you?” Her voice calls from the other room.

Timmy knows any hesitation and she’ll know he isn’t entranced. “Coming, Professor,” and then he begins to move his legs forward again.

As he walks to Professor Messina and her feet, he debates making a dash for it. Soon enough he finds himself at the door to the television room and walking, feeling nauseous before his eyes gaze over at her feet in their mature elegance as they rest at the end of the couch, as she lays her head on the pillow along the armrest on the other side. She beckons him over and motions to her feet, the cushion beneath them looking like the most perfect place for her feet to go on his lap. And as he slides underneath her legs and puts her feet in his hands and begins to massage, breathing in and smiling dumbly, he feels calm and warm.

Professor Messina watches her doctor show as Timmy rubs her feet absentmindedly with his fingers falling into a smooth rhythm as he tenderly kneads her arches and stretches her toes.

Soon enough, Professor Messina is asleep. She is snoring with drool dripping down the side of her mouth as the light of the TV bathes her in blue. The bottle of wine sits empty on the coffee table and her glass is precariously placed on the floor below her.

Timmy is still massaging her feet at the same pace as earlier, he hasn’t missed a beat. He looks at his unconscious captor who was entirely at his disposal. In his humiliation he thought about escaping and getting revenge on her, but as he rubs her feet and looks at her peaceful rest, he doesn’t know how he feels.

Her feet are the problem, he knows that. So he stands up and shuffles to the side, dropping her feet from his lap. He feels powerful as he watches her feet plop down onto the cushions away from him, like he is gaining back control. Even more, he backs off. His nose misses the comforting scent that tingles it and he debates taking one last sniff before saying goodbye to his professor’s feet, but he shakes his head. How did he get like this?

Tiptoeing around in the dark house, he feels his way through the rooms until he finds the hallway where he feels like he can situate himself better. Recalling when he saw the first floor layout earlier and how the two hallways intersect, he knew one of the hallways leads to the front door and that was the one he had to find. Worried about Deanna waking up and activating his trigger, regardless of where he was in the house, Timmy plus his ears with his fingers and hopes that will be enough to block out her words.

Finally, he reaches the point where the hallways meet and he has a straight shot for the door. Repressing the urge to bolt for the door, Timmy quietly steps along the hardwood floored hall.

His nakedness raises an alarm about what he’ll do when he gets outside, but he figures that’s better than this crazy foot ladies basement.

Then he hears something. A voice. He thinks it may be the trigger phrase, but he doesn’t dare think too much about it and he continues on, quickening the pace. Then the voice is louder, a little more clear and it causes a moment of hesitation. Suddenly startled, Timmy can’t keep quiet and instead dashes forward at full sprint, his steps beating on the hardwood as his fingers stay plugging his ears.

Suddenly, something knocks into him and Timmy is sent into the ground, knocking the wind out of him as he crashes to the floor. He feels Deanna on top of him, he’s surprised by her strength as she pins him to the floor and pulls his arms back, taking his hands away from his ears.

He smells the alcohol on her breath as she leans in close to his head, all while laying on top of him to keep him immobile. “You were going to take advantage of my inebriated state? After I gave you all the freedom to be upstairs with me rather than locked in your cell downstairs? Oh Timmy, Timmy, Timmy. You will have to be punished, I’m afraid.”

Timmy is squirming underneath the drunk woman but her intoxicated state gives her the strength of a gorilla.Timmy is now utterly helpless as he can do nothing but wiggle hopelessly from underneath her.

”Shhhhhh. Timmy. Shhh. Stop struggling. Be a good boy and go to sleep for me. Okay?” Deanna says, her words slurring.

“No! Don’t—!” But before Timmy could finish his sentence, he hears the dreaded words that he is powerless to ignore: “Sleepy feet.”

The words hit him immediately like a sleeping pill that just activated. His mind spins and his brain gets clouded. “Sleepy feet,” she says again and Timmy’s will is like puddy. His eyes dim as he finds himself slipping back into trance, struggling to keep conscious and awake. Then, the last of his willpower becomes Deanna’s after she says one more time into his ear, “Sleepy feet.”

She’s tipsy and finds herself needing to grab the wall to stay up. It hadn’t been her intention to get so drunk, let alone to let her subject out and about while she was so drunk. But, as she stands above the naked young man and looks at how placid his entranced face looks as he looks up at her waiting for her say, she feels a thrill and with the alcohol still in her system, Deanna is feeling brazen and is ready to make up for the setback she just suffered.

“Timmy, come with me. But I want you to crawl, and be looking at my feet as you do so,” she grins as she walks ahead, he follows behind on all fours with his vision fixated on the curve of

her arches with each step that they take. She sees a hunger of lust in his eyes breaking through the entrancement, which she prefers over the resistance she was met with before.

She heads back into the living room and orders him to lay back down on the floor with his belly up. He does so. She wonders how deep the hypnosis has gotten to him now. Every time he’s away from her stink she loses her sway over him and while her foot stink can almost immediately put him under her control, she wants him to stay that way outside of the hypnosis and not solely under entrancement.

“Timmy, I’m going to bring you further under hypnosis now, deeper than you’ve ever gone before,” she says, standing over him. “Do you understand?”

“Yes professor...” He says in a whisper.

“Good boy. Now, take a good long whiff of my toes.” She buries his nose between her toes and scrunches them, enclosing his nostrils in a dome of her toes. She feels the strong pull of cool air streaming between her toes as Timmy inhales deeply. The effects are immediately present, Timmy loosens up and falls limp, his eyes dimming as his breathing falling into a regular rhythm.

She watches as his dick hardens. “That’s it. Deep breaths. You how much you love to be taken under by my smelly, sexy, sleepy feet.” As she says the trigger phrase, his eyelids almost shut fully.

“Yes... that’s right... my sleepy feet. The stink makes you so sleepy, so docile, so eager to obey, doesn’t it?” He can’t respond, he’s lost in a world of vinegary feet and her lulling voice.

“Go deeper. Sleepier. Hornier. Horny for feet. Can you say that for me? That you’re horny for feet.”

“I’m horny for feet.”

“You’re horny for my feet, say it.”

“I’m horny for your feet.”

“Repeat after me. You’re horny for my mature, stinky feet.” “I’m horny for your mature, stinky feet.”

Deanna takes her foot away and her subject sighs out as the odour is taken away, but his steady breathing continues at the same constant pace. She moves over to his hips and puts that same foot onto his stiff cock that’s dribbling precum all over his stomach. “Such an eager foot sniffer that you’re getting your body all dirty.”

She moves her foot back and forth along his shaft positioning it between her index toe and big toe, closing them over his dick to grip it as she strokes it. Her foot strokes are slow, she runs her toes along the entire length of the shaft making sure to rub the tip of his dick with the point of her big toe. “Let the pleasure wash over you,” she says softly, “let my mature toes fuck your body and mind, let yourself fall deeper and deeper for me...”

“That’s it. You’re more relaxed than you’ve ever been, aren’t you? More eager to please, eager to get pleasure. And with that more pliable...”

If Timmy had control over himself, he would be moaning and ready to cum, instead his hips shake with uncontrollable arousal as she strokes him continuously, speeding up her pace to tease him further but not quick enough to get him to bust early. She then switches the position her foot is in, going from the toes to her sole, putting his dick in the groove in the middle of the balls of her feet and along the centre of her arch which provided the perfect padding to fuck his cock with. With her meaty sole acting like a warm pillow stroking his shaft, Timmy is clearly on the verge of cumming. His legs are ten, there is a slight increase in the pace of his breathing and his eyes roll back.

But Deanna takes her foot away. “This is your punishment, Timmy. this feeling, the edge of cumming, so close to orgasming over my feet, but unable to. I want you to keep this feeling with you as you find yourself unable to cum, no matter how hard you rub your member, you won’t be able to cum. Oh, and you’ll want to. All you’ll be able to think about is my feet and how you want to cum from them so desperately.”

She walks back to his head and again she puts her foot over his nose. “Smell it, Timmy. Smell it again. That’s it. I know how badly you want it, but you can’t have it. Not unless you’re going to be a good boy again. And if you do manage to get out and leave here, you still won’t be able to cum. Not until I tell you, you can. Now, have one last smell and make it a long one because after that I want you to fall into a deep sleep and dream about these feet that are driving you wild.”

He smells again, like a man dying of thirst finding a puddle in the desert, he inhales as much of her foot aroma as he can. “Now,” Deanna says, “go to sleep.”

Time es with no meaning for Timmy. He finds himself in a dream surrounded by high heels and the laughter of women. The aroma is pungent with the stench of sweaty feet and the odour thickening the air as Timmy tries to escape the high heeled feet only to find himself constantly stuck at dead ends.

He’s lost in a labyrinth on the lookout for any sultry soled woman looking to bind him in her nylons and smother him in her feet. He hears the laughter echo throughout the halls, reverberating up the impossibly high walls.

”Oh Timmy...” The echo haunts him. “Be a Good Boy...”

He’s on his knees again, crawling and sniffing like a dog. He catches that scent that he craves and goes chasing after it, eagerly scrambling along the ground until he gets to the high heel which he sticks his nose in and takes a long, savouring whiff of.

But the stiletto shoe grows from underneath him and suddenly the small object is the size of a baby, then a bush and by the time it grows to be the size of a sedan, Timmy still has his nose stuck in it and is taken off the ground before he slips into the heel, falling down onto the sweat stained insole. As the stiletto expands with him inside, he knows that he better get out soon before the inside walls are too high for him to climb up. But now that he’s inside the shoe and on top of the insole, he can’t help but get down and take a long sniff of it and sure enough, the smell is the most dense there and sends a pleasurable tingle throughout his entire body.

He grins with a dumb expression plastered on his face as his nose presses down and he absentmindedly sniffs the insole, all while the heel grows to its final size, engulfing him and trapping him inside. Timmy doesn’t notice, he’s too busy sniffing away.

“Oh Timmy,” Deanna cries out, “that’s wonderful.”

His agile fingers work their way along her back muscles, tenderly rubbing and kneading them as he massages the oil in. “Thank you, Professor.” He replies, his voice still focused on the task.

Deanna is naked, face down on the massage table, her body glistening in oil as the young man works his fingers across her smooth skin. Technically, he is entranced. He has been entranced for a while, Deanna was upset the boy wasn’t listening and constantly moody, so she kept him under as she went about her day with him as her little helper. And now, she’s relaxing and enjoying his fingers as he works across her back, down to her behind.

His fingers begin to work their way to her butt cheeks, kneading them gently. Deanna smiles when she sees his cock dancing up and down along with his rubbing motion. “My old butt getting you excited? I bet you’d love to cum.” With all the teasing, massaging and foot worshipping happening, Timmy hasn’t been able to cum yet which Deanna enjoys as she’s intrigued by what happens to his trance when his body’s need to orgasm reaches a boiling point.

“Your butt is very sexy, Professor.” Timmy says, Deanna laughs.

“Thank you, dear. But I don’t want any wandering fingers, understand? I think that’s enough, my legs need some love too.” Deanna says.

After the massage, Deanna feels perfectly relaxed and proper. She has a snack on the couch while Timmy touches up her toe nail polish, she tries to give him instructions on what to do but clearly the young man is inexperienced in this area; hypnosis can only do so much. Afterwards, Deanna gets ready for bed and as she does so with Timmy waiting in her room, she wonders what she would do with him as she sleeps. She debates putting him back downstairs, it is the safer option after all, but with Timmy waiting on her all day hand-in-foot, Deanna finds herself aroused and wants him in her bed.

“Alright Timmy,” Deanna says once she gets to her room. “I want you to sleep at the foot of my bed tonight. That means in my bed but not beside me, okay? I want you sniffing my feet, nuzzled up against my soft soles all night. I want to go to sleep with you worshipping my feet and I want to wake up to the feeling of you worshipping my feet. If you wake up in the middle of the night, you may sniff my feet but you may not lick them, I don’t want to get woken up by you slobbering on my feet.”

“Yes Professor.” Timmy responds in his daze.

Deanna slides into bed, she takes a minute to get comfortable by adjusting her pillows and comforter, then she commands Timmy to follow suit, but at the end of the bed. Timmy has a small pillow to rest his head on as Deanna’s mature feet rest themselves inches from Timmy’s face as he lays on his side. She isn’t sure, if he’s thinking about escaping again, but she’s willing to bet he’s not willing to forget his inability to cum which only she can give back.

Nevertheless, Deanna feels his gentle sniffs on the balls of her feet and along the base of her toes before his tongue comes and lingers along the parts his nose just delighted in. Soon enough her eager foot monkey is at his duty, slobbering on her feet in the cute way that he does, but light enough not to prevent Deanna from getting to sleep. Deanna drifts off to sleep as Timmy is lost in the folds of her soles, her experiment feeling like a distant dream and her reality is her new foot boy slaving away at her feet. With the adoring worshipping from Timmy, Deanna drifts off to sleep with a placid expression on her face.

When she awoke she felt panicked. The haze of having her sexual helper around wore off and now she was wondering why she was so stupid as to let the young man loose all night, he was probably miles away from there; cum control or no cum control. But Deanna hadn’t noticed the tender licking happening on the bottoms of her feet as Timmy was awake, still nestled in beside her feet, and worshipping her feet as he was before she fell asleep.

“You did get some sleep, right Timmy? You weren’t worshipping my feet for the entire night, were you?” Deanna has to ask, out of curiosity and concern.

“Yes Professor. I slept after you were deep asleep.” He says and even in hypnosis he is unable to keep the full truth from her, his excited eyes tell her he spent a lot of the night awake and worshipping her feet. She wonders if she went too far and now the boy was too hopelessly obsessed with her feet.

Then again, he was still entranced. Not only could she tell from that dazed look in his eyes, but also because she knew the effects her feet had on him, they were keeping him entranced all night from the hypnosis session accustoming him to them. The true test will be to see if he still displays that same obsession outside of being under hypnosis.

She has Timmy make her breakfast as she sits in her study catching up on her notes for Timmy’s experiment, she knows she’s been slacking lately. She leaves a blank session for today’s session knowing that when she lifts the hypnosis and Timmy gets his freewill back after a day of acquainting himself thoroughly with her feet, she’ll have a lot to write about how he responds.

Soon enough she hears the soft barefoot steps of her still naked subject as he ascends the steps to her study. He knocks on the study’s door like she instructed him to do, not because she’s seriously worried about her privacy—he’s hypnotised after all—more so because she enjoys his submissiveness. “Come in,” she replies and as the door swings open a delightful aroma of freshly cooked breakfast wafts in. “Oh Timmy, I didn’t know you were a cook. I might just have to keep you when this whole thing is done.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Alright Timmy, get under that desk. I have a few video meetings I have to attend and my feet get cold under there and your face is so warm.” She says with a sly smile, then soon enough she has a perfectly shaped footrest for her soles.

For a couple hours she’s in various online meetings, all while her former student is lying under her feet, gently smelling them without making noise or breathing cool air on Deanna’s soles. Every so often her toes will massage his face or her feet will smother his facial features trying to find a more comfortable position and as the hours drag on, her feet pressed against his face making it become slick with sweat. Meanwhile Timmy no longer needs to sniff to get the vinegary aroma. Even Deanna can smell her own feet, so much so she has to make sure she isn’t making a sour face in front of her camera.

After she catches up on work and doing some organisation (and briefly forgetting Timmy was still under her desk), Deanna is ready to continue her pet project. “Alright Timmy, we better go to the basement for this.”

And so they did, finding themselves standing in front of Timmy’s “room”. Deanna sits on her throne in front of the tranced-out Timmy who stands, slowly swaying side to side like a ship on gentle waters. She is wearing heels, since she doesn’t want any distractions or stimuli to put him into trance. In her pocket is her phone which has the microphone app on and is recording their conversation for Deanna’s notes later on.

Deanna finds herself wondering if she could have done permanent mental damage keeping him in trance for so long, but she highly doubts it. Either way, she says “wake up,” and he blinks like usual, but Timmy’s normal exuberant expression doesn’t pop up immediately after she says the command, instead he blinks again and again until his eyes snap fully open. He looks around befuddled, trying to catch up to where and when he is.

“How long has it been?” He asks her finally, after gauging his situation.

“A day. A day and a bit. You were misbehaving. I took away your privilege.”

“My privilege?” He asks, she hears the slight edge of hostility in his voice. She keeps a mental note to tread carefully.

“I want to show you, Timmy, the power of hypnosis and the importance of my work. It is serious business and I’m sorry that you can’t see it, but truly you are the perfect subject. Yes, I have had some fun in my research, I it it, but you must it to have gotten some pleasure out of this accommodation too, no?” She reasons.

He thinks for a moment. His eyes show his fatigue as the last of the trance dissipates his mind. “Yeah... I guess. Some.” His eyes look down at her heels unabashedly, instead they yearn.

“Would you like to see my feet, Timmy?”

He nods. She shakes her head, “no Timmy. You know you have to ask. Politely.”

Another moment of silence lingers as he hesitates. “May I please see your feet?”

“Professor Messina. Please address me by my title, Timmy. I’m not asking you to call me Doctor, just Professor.”

Timmy nods. “Professor Messina, may I please see your feet?”

“Of course Timmy, just because you asked. But before I do, tell me why you want to see my feet. Please, try to be candid.”

Timmy hesitates. Clearly, he has full mental control as he is still looking around the room as he ruminates on his decision. Deanna knows he wants to, his erect cock and the constant glances at her feet tell her that much, yet he is still holding back from her. He’s scared to let go.

“Because...” His face is red, it’s cute. “Because I really like them. I mean, really like them, like seriously like them.” His hand idly goes to his crotch, cupping his balls and his thumb stroking the base of his shaft. “I can’t stop thinking about them and I know it’s the hypnosis, but fuck they’re sexy and they stink so fucking much, but to be honest, I love that. I do. It even turns me on that I love how foul they stink, it even turns me on that you’re over twice my age and I’m

obsessed with your fucking feet.” After he finishes his speech, he takes a breath and turns his face away while covering himself.

“It’s okay, Timmy. It’s OK. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s lovely what you feel. Do you want to worship them right now? I have some notes to take and I would love to have you at my feet. I won’t even put you in trance.”

Timmy is quiet. He nods. Deanna puts her big toe on the heel of her other foot and kicks off one shoe before doing the same with the other. Timmy spirits lift as he sees her feet. He doesn’t hesitate to slip down to the floor cross legged and to take her feet into his lap, brushing his hands over her soles to sweep off any particles stuck to the bottom of her foot. Then he stretches each of her toes back as he becomes fascinated with exploring her feet out of trance. Next he slowly kneads her arches, before rubbing her heels with his fingers. Deanna smiles as she looks down at him enjoying her feet.

Her experiment was drawing to a finish. The boy had a foot fetish, he was open about it and from the sounds of it, he should be willing to help her write up this paper. From the sounds of it, he’s willing to help her with quite a lot of things.

Professor Messina published her academic journal “An Analysis of Complete Subjugation of the Mind Through Hypnosis” a few weeks later. She found it much easier to write while she had a boy serving her every whims. Timmy stopped complaining. He stopped sulking. He dutifully obeys her every command and is rewarded with her feet which he openly expresses his fondest appreciation for.

Her journal does wonders in the academic world. She ended up publishing it anonymously, and given its contents, it received a ton of controversy. But her results spoke for themselves, other professors and professionals in the industry could not deny that. She hopes it may inspire other to follow a similar path that she did, one that favored scientific study regardless of the moral implications.

Another school year approaches and Professor Messina now has a teaching assistant as well as a servant. Timmy stays at her house most days, sleeps at her feet, buys her groceries, cooks her meals, gives her pedicures and foot massages. He spends most of his time naked. Professor Messina even bought him a cute, leather collar.

And yes, even though she has an obedient foot boy who see’s her as his world, she still puts Timmy into trance. Sometimes having a mindless, dumb hypnotised slave is more fun than a doting servant. After all her hard work, Deanna figures she’s earned some fun.

Timmy is feeling nervous for the first day of the new semester. Not the usually new school year excitement either, he felt real butterflies in his stomach as the first day approached. After a summer studying under the tutelage of Professor Messina, Timmy wants to show her that he earned the privilege to be her teaching assistant.

He arrives extra early, has all his notes prepared and had stayed up going over them the night before. But in actuality, he didn’t do much on the first day for all his worrying. Professor Messina introduced him to the students as Timmy rather than Tim or Timothy, he said a few words, and then the professor took over and went over the syllabus while Timmy read along.

By the time the first lecture of the semester was over, he was feeling comfortable enough to chat with some of the students who wanted to know more about the course and Professor Messina. All his nerves were gone and as the last student left the lecture hall, he felt relief.

”You did well, Timmy.” Professor Messina says which makes Timmy’s face beam bright with a smile.

With the next lecture to prepare for, the professor and her new assistant went to her office. Once there, Messina sits down on her leather office chair and then slips out of her heels.

They caught Timmy’s eyes. He sniffs the air, but got nothing but stale office air. Suddenly, he yearns to be at her feet again. “Would you like a foot rub while you prep for the next lecture, Professor?” He asks, trying to hide the eagerness in his tone.

Professor Messina smiles. “Why yes, Timmy. That sounds lovely.”

Timmy returns her smile with one of his own before getting down and crawling under her desk. There he caught a whiff of that scent he craves so longingly, the sharp scent of a mature woman’s sweaty feet after being in heels. He takes her feet into his hands. They’re warm and moist after being confined in her leather stilettos. One of them he lays down on his lap and the other he takes in both hands, before guiding his nimble fingers along the folds of her sole.

He continues the motions he’s grown accustomed to and proficient at, caressing and kneading her foot, before the foot breaks out of his grasp, comes up to his face and plants their toes right over his nose. She then spreads them, assaulting Timmy with a wave of her odour.

The smell hit his mind in the form of a haze drifting in. He let himself drop into the sinking feeling as Professor Messina rubs her foot on his face as he massages her other one. “Good boy,” He heard from above him.

Before Timmy fell back into entrancement from Professor Messina’s feet, he thinks to himself how lucky he was to get this assistant job. Not only because he flunked psychology the year before, but because it introduced him to Timmy’s greatest loves: his professor’s sexy, mature feet.