"Crappy. Yours?"

"Same. You off at 5?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. I've got discount coupons for that new foot spa that we passed the other day. It's getting rave reviews. Meet me there at 5:30?"

"Well, it sounds good, but..."

"But nothing. What could be more relaxing and invigorating than a foot massage?"

"Yeah, you're right, it's just..."

"Come one. We both need this. 5:30 sharp. Don't be late, okay?"

"Okay. See you then."

Melanie sighed as she hung up the phone. Sara couldn't have been more right about both of them needing stress relief. And a massage would definitely provide it. But did it have to be a foot massage? Why not a neck and shoulder one?

The question stemmed from Melanie's incredibly sensitive feet that were highly susceptible to tickling, be it inadvertent or otherwise. Sara, on the other hand, had about as much sensitivity to tickling as a rock did. Sara got foot massages all the time and loved them. Melanie wanted to get them and love them, but she had never been able to make it through more than a few seconds of one without squeamishly giggling and yanking her feet away.

Just thinking about it made Melanie scrunch up her toes within her shoes. But, she'd already agreed to go, so there was nothing to be done about it now.

"Who knows?" she thought hopefully. "Maybe at a such highly rated place, they'll employ someone who can give me a massage without tickling me. Wouldn't that be great?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 5:40 that evening, Melanie and Sara sat side by side in plush, overstuffed loungers. The chairs raised their legs up and cradled them just above the ankles, leaving their bare feet free and accessible. While Melanie tried to relax and instill in herself a desire for the impending treatment, Sara beamed unabashedly.

"Are we the only customers here?" Melanie asked, looking around and seeing no other patrons.

"Yep," Sara said. "At 5, they close to the public. You can only get in by special appointment. That's what's so great about my coupons. They get us both the appointment and the discount."

"Great," Melanie said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than she felt.

"And, the owner herself is going to work on us. She's supposed to be the best."

As if on cue, footfalls sounded from around the corner. A moment later, an attractive woman with a commanding presence walked up to stand before the seated women.

"Good evening, ladies," she said sweetly. "I'm Lizzy, and I'll be taking care of you today."

Melanie and Sara returned the greeting.

"Before we get started," Lizzy went on, "let me ask you: Is either of you ticklish or otherwise sensitive in any way?"

"Nope," Sara said proudly. "Nothing tickles me."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow and nodded at the response. Then she turned to Melanie.

"Um, I'm very, very ticklish. In fact, I never get foot massages because it's really hard for me to enjoy them."

"Don't you worry, my dear," Lizzy said. "I have a lot of experience handling ticklish customers, and I will work on you with the utmost care."

Lizzy reached down to gently place her fingers on the top of Melanie's foot. Melanie gasped in anticipation of being tickled, but the sensation never came. She looked up at Lizzy with an expression of surprised relief. Lizzy smiled knowingly at her.

Then the masseuse pulled over a rolling cart with several drawers in it. From it she retrieved a bottle of oil, some small towels, and a remote control.

"All right, let's begin," she said.

She pressed a button on the remote. Melanie and Sara waited for music to start playing, but all they heard was a faint whoosh, followed by a light click. Curious, they looked around to see where the sounds had originated. When their gazes traveled downwards over themselves, their eyes widened in shock and fear:

Wide metallic bands now encircled their forearms, waists, and calves, pinning them to the loungers. Melanie and Sara both cried out in alarm, as they struggled to break free. They yelled, cursed, and pleaded, all to no effect.

Lizzy, meanwhile, acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Paying no mind to the frantic women, she calmly pressed another button on the remote. In response, vents opened in the loungers' headrests and released a cloud of pink mist around the occupants' faces. Before they even knew what was happening, both Melanie and Sara breathed in the gas. Almost instantly, all tension left their bodies, and their eyes fluttered closed.

"So your self-assessments were accurate. One is truly not ticklish at all, while the other has much more sensitivity than normal. That, I can work with. But you--"

Lizzy turned a steely gaze to the oblivious Sara.

"--are of no use to me if you're not ticklish. That will have to change."

Pressing a third button on the remote control, Lizzy watched as a small headset rose up from behind Sara's lounger. It moved forward and then down onto the dazed women's scalp. Once in place, it began producing a rhythmic buzzing noise in conjunction with pulsing LED flashes. Sara moaned in time with the machine, a sleepy smile spreading over her face.

"Enjoy your brainwashing, my dear. It's designed to be quite pleasurable for the subject. Once it's finished, you will possess a sensitivity to tickling that equals, if not rivals, that of your friend. Then, the pleasure will be all mine. But for now, I will take my pleasure from--"

She turned to face Melanie.

"--you, my dear. You must be brainwashed, as well. But I have no need of a machine to accomplish that. No, I can take care of you myself in my own unique fashion."

Melanie stirred, as the effects of the gas slowly wore off.

"Time for your massage, my dear," Lizzy said.

"Oh...good..." Melanie said drowsily.

Still not fully awake, she suddenly felt strong, smooth hands rubbing warm, soothing oil into her soles and around her toes. She smiled dreamily at the sensation.

"Does that tickle?"

"Mmm...no..."

"How about this?"

Lizzy's fingertips performed an elegant dance across Melanie's instep. Melanie shrieked. She shuddered, and her eyes shot open. Now completely awake and aware, she tried to wrench her feet from Lizzy's hands. But the restraints held firm, and all she could do was wiggle her ankles uselessly. Lizzy's fingers sashayed down to Melanie's heels, then back up again to the balls of her feet. Melanie's scream evolved into a high-pitched guffaw.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Lizzy said with a satisfied nod.

Melanie howled riotously, as the masseuse's dexterous fingers explored every curve, line, wrinkle, depression, and nerve of her feet. She squirmed, jerked, pulled, and strained as much as she could to get away from the torment. But all she could manage to do was laugh and laugh and laugh even more.

Agonizing minutes passed for Melanie (though they were glorious ones for Lizzy). She laughed until she couldn't breathe, at which point her tormentor would pause just long enough for her to catch her breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and drool dribbled from her lips. The tickling went on and on. Her feet grew red from surging blood flow, but repeated doses of oil kept them from chaffing. On and on and on. She couldn't concentrate, couldn't think. All she knew was exquisite torture and unending laughter. On and on and on and on. She couldn't think, couldn't remember. On and on and on and on and on.

Lizzy pulled up a stool and took a seat. Her new position placed Melanie's feet at mouth level. Leaning forward, she tenderly licked the entirety of one arch.

Melanie erupted into spasm. Lizzy licked again, more forcefully this time. Melanie yelped and shook. Lizzy grabbed her foot and washed it back and forth, up and down with her tongue. A continuous whining, wailing laugh issued forth from Melanie. Lizzy moved her tongue along and between Melanie's toes, flicking at and flirting with them playfully. Melanie laughed and moaned and squealed at the onslaught of the terrifyingly amazing sensations.

But Lizzy didn't stop there. She half rose from her seat and engulfed all of Melanie's toes with her mouth. She sensuously sucked, licked, and slurped each digit for a divinely agonizing eternity of seconds, drawing forth guttural mewls and groans from her subject. Then, without pause, she moved onto the next foot. Back and forth she went between each of Melanie's feet, until both were drenched in a mix of oil and saliva, and Melanie herself glistened with sweat.

Still Lizzy didn't stop. As the minutes passed, Melanie's verbal outbursts increased in volume and intensity. She screeched and bellowed out laughter. But nothing helped her withstand the tortuous worship of her helpless feet.

Then, with a last, wheezing whimper, Melanie fell silent. Lizzy drew back her tongue from between two wet toes, then stood up. She took a towel from the rolling cart and gently wiped her lips, cheeks, and chin clean. When she finished, she picked up the remote control and turned off the machine atop Sara's head. Then she surveyed both women: They stared off into space, their eyes blank and their minds empty.

"Can you hear me?" Lizzy said loudly.

After a brief pause, Melanie and Sara answered at the same time.

"...Yes."

"You will address me as Mistress."

"...Yes...Mistress."

"You have no will of your own. You will do whatever you are told."

"...I have no will of my own...I will do whatever I am told."

"You are a foot slave, living only to serve and obey."

"...I am a foot slave...living only to serve and obey."

The preliminary results looked promising to Lizzy. But there was something else to test. Turning to Sara, Lizzy reached down and gently brushed the brainwashed woman's toe with her fingernail. Sara jerked her foot and laughed skittishly. Lizzy pulled back her hand, and Sara quieted again.

Lizzy smiled. The results looked very promising indeed. She would soon need to inform her client of her success. Soon, but not just yet. There was time for more testing. And more fun.

"They'll sleep for a while now. They're physically and mentally exhausted."

Lizzy spoke to a man who stood beside her. Together, they observed the slumbering women in the loungers.

"Yes, of course," the man said. "It's quite an ordeal to be brainwashed."

"And to be tested over and over again afterwards," Lizzy said, with a wolfish lick of her lips.

The man nodded in understanding.

"How well did my equipment perform?" he asked.

"It performed superbly, as expected. You always provide the best, Cyril. Although, I only used it on that one," Lizzy said.

"Oh? And what did you use on the other one?" Cyril asked.

"My own, homegrown recipe."

"Ah, your tickle torture method. How very creative. Are you certain that it works?"

"Absolutely. Both methods proved equally effective at erasing their will and blanking their minds. They are both ready to serve you at your leisure."

"Excellent," Cyril said, but with noticeable indifference.

"Is there a problem?" Lizzy asked.

"No, these women are suitably attractive and will make fine foot slaves, I'm sure."

"But?"

"But I'm less interested in getting attention from them and more desirous of attention from their mistress."

"I'm sure you would love that," Cyril said with a shake of his head. "But my intentions are quite the opposite."

He raised his arm towards Lizzy. Suddenly, a spray of pink mist shot forth from a ring on his finger. The gas quickly enveloped her head.

"What? No..." Lizzy managed to say, before collapsing into Cyril's arms.

Cyril gently placed her in the open lounger, then took up the remote control. With a quiet whoosh and click, the chair's restraints immobilized the dazed masseuse. A moment later, she began to stir. She awoke in time to see Cyril remove her shoes and expose her bare feet. Her eyes grew wide. When Cyril reached for the bottle of oil and made ready to apply it to her soles, they grew wider still.

"I'm going to control your mind, Lizzy."

Cyril began a calculatedly ticklish application of oil to Lizzy's feet. She attempted to steel herself, but she involuntarily squirmed and tittered despite her efforts.

"It's just a matter of how I do it. I can do it my way or your way. In the end, you're going to serve and obey me. But, there's no reason I can't make the process pleasurable for you. So, which way will it be?"

Lizzy gritted her teeth in defiance. Cyril glided a fingernail along the underside of her oiled toes. A protracted squeal escaped her lips.

"Which way, Lizzie?"

Another tickle elicited an outright chortle from her.

"Is this the way you prefer? Is tickling torture or ecstasy for you, or both? How delightful or painful would it be to lose your mind to it?"

Lizzy failed to suppress a stuttering giggle, as Cyril's nail lightly scratched a figure eight along her instep. Then he pulled his hand back and locked eyes with her.

"Or do you want my machine to do it? How turned on are you by the thought of being hypnotically conditioned? Of having obedience subliminally programmed into you? Tell me, Lizzy. Tell me now. Or I will choose for you, and my choice will be the method that I believe you don't want."

Desperate, fearful, and seeing no way to escape her fate, Lizzy blurted out her answer. Cyril smiled and, using the method she had chosen, began brainwashing his new slave....