"So, yeah, I'm out," Cyril said.

"What?" Naz said in disbelief.

"It's been great, really. But I've done everything I wanted to do here. Time to move on."

"That's crazy!"

"Don't sweat it. You're a great woman, with lots going for you. You don't need me. Or, at least you won't need me any more. Here, lets see to that right now..."

Naz's eyes opened wide as Cyril stared into them. She found that she could neither look away, nor wanted to. She knew that she was safe and cradled within his stare. Safe and cradled, but also bound and compliant, and unable to do anything but obey him.

"You're free," Cyril said. "You're free of my commands, suggestions, triggers, and any other influence I had over you."

He turned away, breaking the connection that had held her fast. Naz gasped. She blinked and shook her head, as if awakening from a deep sleep.

"What the hell?" she said. "How much of my life, how much of everything I've done or even thought, had nothing to do with me and everything to do with you?"

She glared at the man standing before her, who until now she had always considered a friend. He shrugged.

"I can tell you that you wanted it that way as much as I did, and you'll either believe me, or you won't," he said. "Regardless, I'll make no excuses one way or another. All I'll say now is...goodbye and take care."

And then, he left.

She stood in her home, now alone, feeling for the first time in a long while like she was awake. Aware. Alive. Free. But she remained uncertain of whether or not she believed Cyril. Had she really wanted to be hypnotized? Controlled? Submissive and obedient? Had she gone to him willingly, or had he ensnared her?

She didn't know. While she wanted to figure it all out--and she swore to herself that she would--right now, she just wanted to take advantage of her freedom.

Looking down, she saw that she was barefoot. There was nothing wrong with that, but it suddenly seemed foreign to her. She liked shoes. She had a closet full of them. Why wasn't she wearing any? Why didn't she ever wear any? Keeping her feet bare had been for Cyril, not for herself. She was sure of that. But no longer. He was gone. She was here. It was her life. She would do what she wanted.

She moved to her bedroom and surveyed the contents of her closet. She had many pairs of sexy shoes, including several that were open toed or strappy. But she passed over all of those and grabbed her Doc Martins. Put them on. Laced them up.

Then, she went out and began living for herself again.

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

Naz's eyes shot open. She bolted upright in bed. Her heart pounded. She was hyperventilating.

She sat there for a moment, calming herself down. Once she was more in control--though still a bit shaken--she got out of bed.

Heading towards the bathroom, she eyed the clock on her nightstand. The ungodly hour it displayed neither surprised her, nor made her happy. It was what it was. She was awake, and she would be for a while. She needed to do something, and sleep wouldn't come easily, if at all, until she did it.

She made her shower as hot as she could bear it and also kept it as brief as possible to still get her clean. She didn't bother doing her hair. Teeth were brushed. Clothes put on. Necessities grabbed and stowed in her purse. Feet stuffed into footwear suitable for the blustery February weather. Coat, scarf, and hat donned. Then, she was out the door.

When she arrived at her destination, she parked askew in the driveway, blocking in two other cars. Not caring. Needing to make things happen. ASAP. Now. Yesterday. She got out of her car and headed up the walk to the front door. Fumbling through her purse, she found a key. Top lock. Bottom lock. She opened the door, entered, then closed it behind her.

She shed her coat, scarf, and hat. Then she kicked off her shoes--an impressive feat, given that they were ankle high boots--and peeled off her socks. She left the foyer in haste, passing through rooms she knew by heart before coming to a closed door.

Normally, she would have knocked or called out. But speed continued to dictate her movements. She used another key. Opened the door. Entered. Closed it behind her.

This one room had three different motifs. By the door, a plush sofa and matching armchair spoke of a living room. Diagonally across from that furniture, a desk, rolling chair, and drafting table evoked an office. In the corner opposite both the other areas, a third chair defied easy categorization. It bore resemblance to a recliner but boasted inset electronics and attached mechanisms to make any technologist proud, as well as multiple restraints that would excite any bondage afficionado.

A man sat at the desk. A woman sat in the techno-bondage chair. Naz knew the man but not the woman.

"Naz? What are you doing here?" Cyril said. "I know I told you that you're always welcome, and you are. But, it's ridiculously late, and honestly, I'm in the middle of something."

He glanced over at the woman in the chair. She had auburn hair in a retro-flapper style, which framed an adorably cherubic face. She wore a sweatshirt and leggings that hugged the curves of her delectably feminine body. She was reclined in her seat with her legs elevated. Her feet were bare, and her soles faced the man. Thick leather straps secured her wrists, waist, and ankles to the chair. Behind closed lids, her eyes moved rapidly back, forth, up, and down. A device akin to yet starkly different than a salon hair dryer hung over her scalp. The machine purred, occasionally beeped, and intermittently pulsed with inlaid LED lights. The woman trembled and occasionally moaned.

By the time Cyril had finished speaking, Naz had already crossed the room to stand beside the woman.

"Naz?" he said again, surprised at not getting any response the first time. "Like I said, I'm in the middle of something."

"How far along is she?" Naz asked.

"Just past the induction. Her conditioning hasn't begun yet."

Naz nodded. Then she leaned down and, shielding her eyes from the pulsing lights with her hand, put her mouth next to the woman's partially covered ear.

"You have no will of your own. Cyril is your master. You are his slave. You must do whatever he says. You must always be barefoot in his presence. It is a sign of your complete submission to him. You will not consciously remember these instructions when you wake up, but you will follow them to the letter. Now, repeat what I've said."

In a slow, monotone drawl, the woman began repeating the instructions. Naz sighed impatiently.

"Faster," she said. "Come on, come on, faster."

Still monotone, but now at a more hurried pace, the woman continued speaking.

"Again," Naz said. "And again. Come on, hurry up."

The woman did as she was told. Within another 30 seconds, she had repeated everything Naz had told her four full times.

"Good enough," Naz said, then to Cyril, "There's she all brainwashed and ready to go. You can finalize the process now."

Again not wasting any time, Naz quickly undid the restraints. Cyril watched the unexpected scene play out before him, unsure what to make of it all. Then, with an incredulous shake of his head, he entered commands into his computer to finalize the woman's brainwashing and begin the awakening process.

The non-hair dryer powered down, then lifted up away from the woman's head. Her eyes fluttered open just as Naz unfastened the last leather strap.

"You'll be fine, sweetie. I know you're tired and confused. Don't worry. All will be well after you take a little nap. You can do that right over there."

Naz pointed at the sofa. Groggily, the woman climbed out the chair. She stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed onto it. Sleep claimed her quickly.

"What the hell, Naz?" Cyril said. "Why are you--"

"Strap me in please," Naz said, climbing into the chair and stretching out along its contoured surface.

"Naz--"

"Please, Cyril. Please."

"Okay. Sure. But why? You've been in that chair before. A bunch of times, actually. Although you don't remember all of them. But the point is, you don't need another spin in the dryer."

"No, I think I do."

"What? Why?"

"I had a dream," Naz said. "A nightmare. You were leaving town. You said that you were bored and that you were done with me. You released me from your control. You basically unbrainwashed me. Once you did, I didn't need to serve or obey you. In fact, I didn't want to. I was glad you were gone and I was free. And then, I put on shoes. I couldn't believe I'd been going around barefoot for so long. I thought it was against my nature. Cyril, it was horrible!"

"Well, sure, it sounds pretty bad. But, it was just a dream. It doesn't mean anything."

"Maybe it doesn't, or maybe it does. Maybe your control over me is slipping. Maybe, subconsciously, I'm starting to regain my independence. I don't want that! I want to remain barefoot and brainwashed. I want to be like her."

Naz gazed enviously over at the sleeping woman on the sofa.

"I still think you're making too much of a dream," Cyril said.

"But what if I'm not?"

"Well, if you're not, or even if you are, it can't hurt to run you through a cycle. After all, I do want you barefoot and brainwashed. And bound. Bound is good, too."

He began strapping her into the chair. She smiled and wiggled her toes in relief and delight.

"Still, I was in the middle of something," he said, briefly eyeing his barefoot, newly brainwashed slave on the other side of the room. "And while you implanted all the right suggestions in her mind, you did interrupt me and take away my fun. Oh, well. I'll have my fun with you instead. And I'll make sure to add some new conditioning that keeps you from being so assertive in your submissiveness. That way, future bad dreams or not, we won't have a repeat of this little incident."

As he finished speaking, he also finished securing her. He walked over to his desk and started up the machine.

"Yes, Master," Naz said, as the non-hair dryer lowered into place over the top of her head and began its purrs, beeps, and pulses. "You know what is best for your slave."

She knew it was the last thing she would be able to say of her own volition, until her re-brainwashing was complete and she regained consciousness. That knowledge, along with the pacifying induction that sedated her and erased her will, pushed all lingering thoughts of the horrible nightmare right out of her emptying mind.