I sat on her couch revealing every deep dark secret related to my fetish… my obsession. There were to be no secrets between us. I told her everything. I looked up at the ceiling as I spoke, embarassed to look her in the eyes.
“For as far back as I can remember my thoughts have been constantly filled with women’s feet. I can remember at around age 5 I had a good friend. Our parents were neighbors and we played together almost every day. We played cops and robbers a lot and I always ended up assigned the role of the robber for some reason. Being the cop she would always catch me of course. I never remember complaining. We didn’t have handcuffs at age 5 so she would always tie my hands behind my back. Being the robber I had to be punished and we didn’t have a jail either. She would punish me by kicking off her shoes and making me smell her feet. Everytime! Fast forward to high school. My obsession only seemed to deepen. I remember that I used to see the teachers, or my fellow class mates wearing pantyhose and find myself daydreaming about what their stockinged feet would smell like. To this day those images are so vivid in my mind. It was the same in college. I’m 37 years old now and the older I get the more obsessed I become with women’s feet… particularly their smell. I almost seem to have this need to be forced to smell them”.
As I told her every detail of my obsession, I could hear Sharon scribbling non stop in her notepad. I had no idea what she was writing. I was embarassed beyond description to be telling her every detail of my thoughts and desires as they related to women’s feet, but if this was the only way to get this under control it was something I would have to force myself to face and then eventually deal with.
Several days earlier, I had once again spent my evening on the internet, searching pornography sites looking for pictures of stockinged feet to pleasure myself too. This had become an almost nightly ritual for me. Every free minute of my alone time was consumed with thoughts of women’s feet. My fantasies centered around the desire for a woman to kidnap me, place me in bondage and make me a slave to the smell of her stockinged feet. I had gotten to the point that I was beginning to fear that it had grown beyond unhealthy. It was only then that I decided I needed to seek help… professional help.
I closed the website I was on and opened google, immediately searching for “sexual fetish therapy”. I spent the next several hours reading website after website about treatment and therapy options. I narrowed my search down to local professionals near my home that specialized in sexual addictions. Before I decided to change my mind, I called the one that had the highest review ratings to make an appointment. I really hoped he could help me out. As the days passed, I began to feel as if a weight was being lifted off my shoulders. This was all going to be fixed. I was going to be ok.
I arrived at the office 15 minutes early on the day of my appointment as requested. It was a quaint little office not readily visible from the road. I was nervous as I entered the office, but at least no one would see me go in at this location. I thought to myself that this guy better be worth te embarassment I was about to subject myself to. I entered a very cozy waiting area and was the only one there. The receptionist was attractive and handed me some paperwork to fill out while I waited. Well, if I got to see her each week when I came to see this old geezer, at least that was a bonus. When it was time for my session, she lead me down the hall to a back room and told me the therapist would be with me shortly.
The room was very comfortable. There was a leather couch on one side of the room. Next to it was a leather chair with a footstool. Across the room was a very expensive looking wooden desk. The room was dimly lit with soft light and seemed very cozy and inviting. I was still looking around when I heard the door open and the familiar sound of heels clicking on the hardwood floor of the entryway to the room. Heels… wait a minute… this couldn’t be right.
I turned around to see one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen walking into the room. She had blonde hair and her eyes sparkled. She introduced herself as Sharon. She was dressed very professionally in a button up blouse, knee length navy skirt, nude hose, and navy heels. This was definitely not what I was expecting. I began to doubt myself and didn’t think I could go through with this. She immediately sensed my nervousness and second thoughts and invited me to sit on the couch. She pushed the foot stool to the side and sat in the leather chair and looked deep into my eyes and smiled warmly. She told me a little bit about herself, her schooling and her experience. She asked me general questions about my career, hobbies, friends and family. She told me that fetish therapy was her specialty and said there wasn’t a client yet that she had worked with that she couldn’t help. As we chatted my nerves began to calm… that is until she asked me specifically why I was here.
I was utterly humiliated before the first word came out. How could I admit to this beautiful woman that I was addicted to feet? My eyes drifted down to her legs encased in sheer hose and my mind began to wander. It was starting to happen. My addiction was taking over. I couldn’t do this… I couldn’t admit this to her. She spoke softly to me, her words echoing in my mind in an almost hypnotic sort of way. As we chatted more, I found myself laying back on the couch and listening to her every word. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. I was too embarassed… but somehow I began so to slowly open up to her and admit my desires.
As she asked more specific questions about my addiction, I began to open up more. “I’m getting to the point where I don’t think I can have a normal relaionship. I find the first thing I look for in a woman is that she has a dominant attitude and wears nylons. I don’t want a girlfriend. I want a woman who will tie me up every night when she gets home and make me smell and worship her feet. This has gotten beyond unhealthy. Is there anything you can do?” Even as I begged for help in curing this obsession, I found my mind wondering how long she had been wearing her pantyhose and what her feet would smell like when she kicked her heels off that night. She smiled softly and looked into my eyes, even though I couldn’t return the stare.
“David, you’ve made a good choice in seeking me out. I can help you. Please ask the receptionist to make an appointment for you tomorrow afternoon. I am going to work on a specialized program for your treatment and we can start tomorrow. I’ll explain it all in detail when you come in tomorrow. You’ve made the right choice. Please call me if you have any questions or doubts before we meet again tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to helping you.”
I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I was nervous, yet excited. I didn’t want to go back and have to face her again, yet I wanted to go back so badly I could hardly wait. My appointment had been set for 6pm so I wouldn’t have to leave work early. I arrived right on time and was taken back to Sharon’s office. She entered a few moments later. She was just as beautiful as I had remembered. She was in a black skirt, white blouse, black stockings and heels this evening. I couldn’t help but stare at her feet as she walked across the room and sat down in the chair next to me.
We began to talk and once again, the conversation light and casual. I assumed this was just meant to relax me and build my confidence to open up to her. It felt like I had known her for years and we were long lost friends. Unfortunately the topic moved towards my addiction to womens feet and I felt my embarassment begin to grow. Sharon began to explain her thoughts on how to approach my addiction. She asked if I had ever heard of hypnosis. I had been to a few hypnotist comedy shows before but that was about it. Sharon explained hypnosis to me in detail. She said she believed my fetish was something that begun in childhood and my brain had slowly been wired through adolescence to associate pleasure with feet. Through hypnosis she believed she could regress me back to that time and reverse the cause. It made sense to me, so I nervously agreed.
I was asked to lie back on the couch, get comfortable, and relax. Sharon looked me in the eyes and spoke to me in a soft voice… almost erotic. As we spoke she used the fingers of her left hand to slowly play with a gold bracelet on her right hand… turning it slowly… around… and around. I listened to her words and couldn’t help but to find myself staring at that bracelet. I felt a little numb and very relaxed, at ease, and heavy.
Truthfully it was so relaxing that I must have dozed off. I heard Sharon asking me to wake up and was a little embarassed that I had fallen asleep on her. She said that I had done a great job. “My apologies. It’s been a long day and I must have dozed off”. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling. “You did just fine. We had a great session today”.
I was confused. What did she mean? Then I noticed the clock on her desk and realized 45 minutes had passed. What had happened during that time? I couldn’t remember a thing. Something was peculiar though. She was sitting next to me with her legs crossed and her shoes still on… but I could distinctly smell her feet. I glanced down at her feet and my mind was filled with their aroma. She smiled at me with a knowing smile… almost dominant in tone. I tried to remember what had happened, focus my mind… nothing. It seemed the more I tried to remember things, the harder it was for me to think about it.
Sharon stood and helped me to my feet. She told me to make another appointment for the next day on my way out. I was told that I was doing great and not to worry about anything. She would have me under control in no time at all. She quickly corrected herself “I mean I will have your fetish under control. Same time tomorrow. Have a good evening”. I left her office a little bewildered; wondering what just happened. I was confused, but felt so at peace at the same time. For some reason I couldn’t wait to see her again tomorrow. As I left the building, I noticed the secretary bending over at her desk to pick up a paper off the floor. Her long legs were encased in nude hose… and it didn’t arouse me at all. For the first time in my life I felt like my fetish was finally going to be at an end. I was excited and happy.
I got home around 9 pm and for some reason was very tired. I was a complete zombie. I didn’t really give it a thought, but I methodically undressed myself, turned off the lights and crawled into bed. I slept like a baby that night. I had vivid dreams all night long about Sharon’s feet covered in those black stockings. I smelled them for hours as she sat above me and smiled. It seemed so real. I awoke in the morning more aroused than I had ever been in my life. I went to the bathroom and pleasured myself to the thoughts of her feet. As I approached orgasm, the vivid images of her feet slowly began to fade. When I finally climaxed I couldn’t for the life of me remember what my dreams had been about. The more I tried to think of them, the more suppressed they seemed to be.
I went through my morning routine, headed off to work and for some reason couldn’t wait to see Sharon again that evening…
Over the next few weeks, my visits to Sharon’s office became a routine. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I would see her at precisely 6pm. It was always the same. I would walk into her clinic, the receptionsist would escort me back to Sharon’s office and Sharon would come in a few minutes later. We would have a little casual conversation and that was all I could remember. 45 minutes later I would leave her office without a clue as to what had just happened. All I knew was that when I saw women out in public in heels and stockings… nothing happened. I tried hard to remember little details from our sessions, but the more I focused on them the more fuzzy my memories of the session were. At first I was nervous about what may be happening to me in our sessions, but my new found freedom… free from the chains of my oh so addictive fetish quickly put any worries to the back of my mind.
I would guess I had been seeing Sharon regularly for about 3 months now. I was beggining to think of her as an old friend, but a friend I constantly longed to see. It was Wednesday and today felt no different than any other Wednesday. It was 6pm and I was walking into Sharon’s office just like I always have. I really looked forward to my visits with Sharon. I don’t know why, but I felt drawn to her… almost as if I had to see her… a sort of addiction if you could call it that. Stacy, her receptionist led me back to Sharon’s office just like always. As I followed Stacy down the hall, her hips swayed before me and the stockings on her legs made a swish swish sound as they lightly rubbed against each other. This would have driven the old me insane. It of course had no effect whatsoever on the new me.
Like clockwork, Sharon entered her office right on time, dressed beautifully in black leather heels, nude stockings, a black knee length skirt, white blouse, and black jacket. We made small talk for a few minutes and then Sharon asked me to lie down on the couch just as she always did. I laid back, quite relaxed and as she spoke she began to play with her gold bracelet… a very familiar sight to me. As I focused on Sharon’s gold bracelet and let her words enter my mind and meld with my own thoughts, I somehow felt drawn to stare at her feet. It just felt so natural to stare at her feet. Her left leg was crossed over her right leg and she casually bobbed her foot up and down in rhythm to her soft, almost erotic voice. As she spoke, I noticed her black leather heel drop off her foot and suddenly I fell deep and so relaxed it was as if a tidal wave of relaxation and pleasure flooded over my entire body. My whole body tingled and I could feel my heart beating deep in my chest. My eyes fell tightly shut and my body felt so heavy that it was as if a ton of bricks had been placed on me. I dropped so fast and so deep… a place deep in my mind I never consciously knew existed. I heard Sharon speaking softly to me, yet with a tone of dominance and authority “assume your position slave”. It seemed so natural, yet without thinking I sat up, dropped to my knees before her, placed my hands at the small of my back and bowed my head… then froze… completely unable to move… not wanting to move.
Sharon casually slipped her heel back on, got out of her chair and pulled a coil of rope from her desk drawer. As she leaned over, she began to wind the rope around my wrists slowly, around… and around… as she spoke. “This rope symbolizes my power over you footslave. With each loop my power over you grows… growing stronger and stronger… each loop increasing my dominance over you ten times more powerful than before… as the rope renders you more helpless… my power over you grows. You are helpless before me… you need to be helpless before me… you need me to be in control of you”. Then she repeated the same message as she wrapped my ankles in rope and secured them to my hands. She gently lowered me to the floor right at the foot of her chair. As she continued to fill my thoughts with her words, she casually pulled a worn stocking out of her purse and gently pressed it deep into my mouth. “And as I take away your power of speech, you fall deeper and deeper under my spell… needing to see me daily… needing to be controlled by me daily… thinking only of becoming a slave to my feet”.
I moaned confirmation into the gag as Sharon sat back into her chair and let her heels drop on the floor, first her right heel and then her left. She glanced back down at me with a dominating smile as she clasped her stockinged toes gently over my nose. “You are enslaved to the aroma of my feet. You will do anything for me, just to be allowed to smell my aroma. You love my aroma. You need my aroma. The stronger the aroma of my feet, the deeper enslaved you become to my feet. As I work on my notes above you, your mind is totally blank of any other thought but the aroma of my feet. With each deep breath you take, you fall deerer in trance and more easily allow the smell of my feet to burn into your memory. You love to be tied, gagged and helpless at my feet. This is what you desire”. Sharon then ignored me as I lay bound, gagged, and smelling her feet. Her feet were warm and moist after being in stockings and leather heels all day. They smelled very musty and of worn leather. To any normal person this would be an overwhelmingly humiliating torture, but to me the strong smell of her feet was a powerfully addicting drug… something I craved… and needed more and more of. She sat above me and worked at her computer, inputting her notes from the day as I took deep breath after deep breath from her feet.
When the 45 minute session was coming to a close, Sharon reached down and gently pulled the gag from my mouth. She smiled a knowing smile and then began to speak to me once again, filling my mind with her instructions. “My thoughts are your thoughts slave. Remember that when we are together like this, you will reinforce your submission to me by addressing me as Miss Sharon. Repeat after me… I love your feet”.
“I love your feet Miss Sharon”.
“I need Your feet”.
“I need your feet Miss Sharon”.
“I am a helpless slave to your feet”.
“I am a helpless slave to your feet Miss Sharon”.
“Your feet cause me immense arousal”.
“Your feet cause me immense arousal Miss Sharon”.
“I can only orgasm while thinking of the smell of your feet”.
“I can only orgasm while thinking of the smell of your feet Miss Sharon”.
“Good boy slave. That was very good.”.
I am finally untied and helped back onto the couch. Sharon casually places the ropes back into her desk and continues to fill my mind with suggestions. “Your time is almost up. As is our normal practice, when I snap my fingers you will awaken refreshed and relaxed. You will have no conscious memory of our session today. You will only remember that you had a very fulfilling session and you cannot wait to return again for your next session. You are becoming a slave to my feet… my feet only… as such no other woman’s feet can cause you any arousal. When you arrive home this evening you will undress and immediately climb into your warm bed. As you begin to drift off to sleep, you will recall your submission to me and your mind will immediately be filled with the aroma of my feet… you will feel more submissive to me than you ever have felt… more in love with the idea of being my footslave than you have ever felt. You will begin to masturbate as you visualize yourself hogtied, gagged, and forced to smell my feet. Your mind will vividly recall every detail about you struggling under my feet. You will tease yourself over and over and then have an orgasm ten times more intense than any you have ever had. As you orgasm, you will associate the pleasure of orgasm with your submission to me. Your submission to Miss Sharon will grow ten times stronger than it is right now. You will then drift into a deep sleep and awake in the morning with no conscious memory of your orgasm… only that you feel so very good and can’t wait to see me again. Do you understand these instructions fully”?
“Yes Miss Sharon”.
“Very well slave”. SNAP! As her fingers are snapped and my eyes start to flutter, I slowly come up out of the hypnosis. Sharon once again tells me I had another wonderful session and I am coming along nicely. It should only take a few more sessions for me to have my thoughts and subconscious completely re-programmed. I am told that I am progressing much faster than she initially imagined I would and that her plan for me is working to perfection. With that, I am helped to my feet and walked to the door… the clicking of her heels on the office floor resonating deep in my mind.
This story is taken from: