My Summer in the Stink Chamber


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
...with inspiration from the lovely Mikoto

Chapter 1: A Seat of My Own Making

As I stood before the judge to await my sentencing, I shook my head at the thought of my own stupidity. The reason I was in this predicament was because I made the mistake of trusting my friend Derek – well, former friend. What was happening to me was actually his fault. At least that’s what I had been telling myself ever since I was caught.

The incident had occurred during the last week of the spring semester. Derek was the one who gave me the idea of snapping pictures in the women’s dressing room. Of course, he was nowhere to be found when I was arrested. And then that lying shit had the nerve to tell everyone he had nothing to do with it. What an asshole he turned out to be!

Once they seized the phone I was using and saw the photos I had taken, I realized I was in big trouble. The punishment for that type of offense was steep. Males weren’t allowed to go near the ladies changing area, much less be in there with a device that had a built-in camera.

That device wasn’t even mine. ‘Slave boys’ weren’t permitted to own anything. The fact that I stole it from my university training mistress was certain to make my punishment all the worse. And sure enough, I heard her cackling in the background when my ruling was handed down. What a bitch she was!

Speaking of bitches, the evil glint in the judge’s eyes and the menace in her voice while she recited my fate filled me with terror. It took several moments for her words to sink in, but once they did I began trembling and sobbing as I became overwhelmed with hopeless desperation. This feeling only became deeper as I noticed that not one person in the courtroom showed an ounce of remorse for me. In fact, there were many cheers and shouts of “make him suffer” and “give him what he deserves.”

I should have been on my way home for the summer. While this would have meant several months of serving my family, it would have been pure bliss compared to the ominous destiny I was facing. At home, I would have been wearing a comfortable t-shirt and shorts. Provided I did what was expected of me, I would have been given actual food to eat. And I would have been sleeping on the carpeted floor of my sisters’ bedroom with a cozy blanket.

Instead, I was being grabbed by two guards and then dragged into the next room. Without removing my ankle or wrist shackles, they forced my otherwise naked body into a small cage. Well, there was one more item that I wore – my chastity device. This tiny metal contraption had been locked onto me since I reached puberty, and had been removed only twice a month for hygiene purposes. Although the chastity cage caused me occasional discomfort, I mostly came to think of it as a normal part of me and not as a punishment.

During the five-day waiting period, I laid curled up in a cage whose minuscule dimensions prevented me from stretching out or sitting up. My muscles and joints ached from maintaining the same cramped position for so long. I also shivered constantly – and not just from the anticipation of the hell that awaited me. I was cold. The temperature in the holding room had been set low enough to cause discomfort, but not so much to make me sick.

There were two little hinged gates in the cage walls that opened three times a day. One was near my head to provide me with some kind of disgusting gruel to eat. There was a second near my backside with the perfect size to allow a rather wide tube to be pushed in. I could then evacuate my bowels or my bladder. I was all too aware of what would happen to me if I had an accident, so I always managed to wait for the waste tube to take care of my biological needs.

And while that experience wasn’t exactly pleasant, it was most certainly a far better state of affairs than the one I would soon be fixed into. Based on what I had been told, my upcoming punishment would be the most dreadful situation I could imagine. Apparently, my awful destiny was going to be beyond my worst nightmares!

I barely slept the night before this hellish torment was scheduled to begin. And before I knew it, I was being yanked from my cage, marched to a waiting van, and thrown in the back. After being bounced around for a while, I arrived at the university and was escorted to the basement of Main Hall.

It was the first time I had seen this particular floor of the building, since it was used only for severe chastisement. And in my first year at this institution, I had not committed a serious enough offense to warrant a visit to what many referred to as ‘The Dungeon’.

Alas, I didn’t quite make it to the end of my sophomore year unscathed and was now being taken through the place that all males at this school feared the most. What I saw confirmed every foreboding comment that I had ever heard.

There were a number of pillories, and tall wooden frames with chains hanging from them. I noticed many punishment devices hanging on the walls – various crops and whips ranging from somewhat tame to extremely frightening. I was walked past two stretching racks, several high-powered vacuum beds, some bondage tables, a set of large revolving wheels, and a row of bondage chairs. Every apparatus looked intimidating, and not one I would want any part of.

But I knew my ultimate fate would make these contraptions seem like child’s play. This very thought caused me to shudder as a wave of terror coursed through my entire being. Before I could recover, I was rudely shoved into a shower stall. I was so distracted by all the evil devices that I hadn’t noticed it was there.

One of the guards unlocked and removed my shackles, then told me I had three minutes to clean myself. The moment after she closed the door I was hit with freezing cold water. I screamed and attempted to avoid the chilling spray, but the stall wasn’t large enough for me to find any respite. Resigned to this unpleasant shower, I picked up the washcloth and soap. Before the water shut off, I was able to scrub my hairless body clean.

A towel was thrown at me and I dried myself completely. Once this was done, a guard took hold of my wrist and pulled me down a corridor. It was not well lit, and the darkness did nothing to temper my growing anxiety. At the end was a room, which in stark contrast to the hallway I had just been in was very bright – almost blindingly so.

We stopped soon after entering, and I took a moment to look it over. There were many chairs, maybe two dozen in all. Each was black and had padded leather seats and backs. I was sure they were quite comfortable, and they completely ringed the area which I would soon occupy. I sighed as I realized exactly what those seats were for – to sit and watch the victim of the stink chamber.

Located in the center of the room, the chamber had thick plexiglass walls extending from just below the ceiling to about knee-height from the floor. The rest was black, and perhaps the same material although I couldn’t tell for sure. Inside were two severe-looking black bondage chairs positioned side-by-side. Those I had seen before didn’t have nearly as many straps, nor did they appear as menacing as these did.

As I cringed from the prospect of being shackled into one of them, I felt a hard nudge.

“That’s enough staring,” a guard said. “Now come with us!”

I took a deep breath and followed them toward the far wall. A guard pressed something on the wall that I couldn’t detect, and a door slid open. I was then shoved through the doorway, and I looked over my shoulder in annoyance.

They both gave me a wicked grin and spoke in unison. “Meet your wardress!” They began laughing as the door slid shut.

Before I could even turn my head, I heard an authoritative voice. “On your knees, slave!”

Having obeyed this command many times in my life, I instantly assumed the position. I slowly peered up and an imposing figure filled my gaze.

She was tall, with dark shoulder-length hair. Her ruby red lips were curled into an evil smirk, and her dark-eyed stare seemed to cut right into my soul. She was wearing black latex – from her form-fitting dress, to her long gloves, to her knee-high boots. The black crop she held in her right hand completed her devastating image. I definitely didn’t want to cross her!

I began quivering as she chuckled and touched my cheek with her crop. She then tapped the toe of each of her boots and looked at me expectantly. I bent down and kissed her boots, then knelt up to see her smile at me with a nod.

“That type of obedience will serve you well, slave. It’s going to take a while to get you fixed into the chamber, but it will go much more smoothly if you don’t resist. Of course, if you do…well…let’s just say I can turn what is already going to be a dreadful experience into something beyond any hell imaginable.” She placed the tip of her crop under my chin. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, Mistress,” I said with a gulp.

“Good…and you may call me Wardress, since I am the one who will be overseeing your punishment while you are here.”

“Yes, Wardress.”

“Now let me introduce you to the woman who will be preparing you for your fate...and then strapping you into position.”

She stepped aside and another beautiful creature moved forward. I had not previously noticed that she was there, but she also had quite a daunting presence. Her attire was similar to the wardress, except she was not wearing gloves and she had on a dark blue latex corset. Her hair was black with several blue streaks, and her eyes were a captivating azure. I became lost in her gaze, until my cheek exploded in pain.

“Kiss her boots, now!” The wardress scowled at me and drew back her crop.

Not wanting to be hit like that again, I immediately kissed the boots of the other woman.

“My name is Agnes but you can refer to me as Mistress Agonies...since I can introduce you to plenty of those.” She crossed her arms and sneered at me. “So you had better be completely respectful at all times. Most of the fuckers that I work on get an attitude.” She gave me a light kick in the thigh. “But you’ll be a good slave, right?”

My eyes went wide and I gasped. “Y-yes, of course Mistress Agonies.”

“Very well.” She beckoned me with her finger as she turned and started walking toward the other side of the room.

I crawled behind her and stopped next to an open wardrobe cabinet. She began rummaging through the many latex clothing articles hanging inside. She peeked back at me several times while continuing to traverse these outfits until finally pulling one from the rack.

She chuckled as she held it up, and then threw it at me. “Try it on.”

It took a minute for me to determine how to put on what turned out to be a full-body latex suit. It was black and the material was very thick. Eventually I realized that I first needed to unzip the back and then work my feet into the leg holes. Since I had never worn anything like it, I struggled with this process. It wasn’t long before Mistress Agonies became impatient.

“Here,” she said with an exasperated sigh, “I’ll help you.”

With her assistance, I was able to squeeze myself into the suit. The fit was tight, almost painfully so. It covered every part of my body from the tips of my toes, right up to my neck. The material was restricting, and felt foreign to me. And I was quickly becoming very warm inside of it. I didn’t think I would ever get accustomed to wearing the damned thing.

After pulling me to my feet, she stepped back and looked me up and down. She then smiled and walked around my rubberized body. When she was stood before me again, she picked up her crop and tapped my thighs.

“Spread ’em, slave. I need to check something.”

While I was confused by her orders, I moved my feet apart. She reached between my legs and I nearly jumped when I felt the tips of several fingers rubbing the skin behind my testicles. This sensation lasted for a few seconds and then she withdrew her hand with a giggle.

“I know you enjoyed that, slave, but it wasn’t for your pleasure. It was necessary to make sure the lower crotch opening will properly align with the chair’s built-in waste evacuation tube.” She smirked as I shuddered. “And I do believe there will be no issues.”

I dropped my head and sighed. The more I found out about this chamber, the less I wanted to go anywhere near it – much less be trapped inside!

She didn’t give me but another moment to wallow in self-pity before taking hold of my arm. “It’s time.”

She then escorted me back into the chamber room where we met up with the wardress. Although it was a short distance, walking in that thick rubber suit was a challenge.

“Ah, perfect!” The wardress snickered as I stopped before her. “That latex is so fetching on a slave, isn’t it?”

“Of course!” Mistress Agonies chuckled as well.

The wardress put a gloved hand on my cheek. “Aw, it’s not so bad. Well, not until you’ve been in it for more than a few hours while immobilized in a sauna.”

A sauna? I had no clue what she meant by that.

Seeing my confusion, she chuckled and patted my cheek. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Once you’re all snug in there, I’ll set the temperature of the chamber to 32 degrees Celsius. For someone wearing thick rubber, that’s going to be rather...stifling, don’t you think?”

While the two women burst into laughter, I was on the verge of tears. How would I be able to endure this? Wouldn’t I eventually overheat and die?

As if she was reading my mind, the wardress spoke in a comforting voice. “Oh, but don’t worry. This has all been thoroughly tested. As long as we keep you hydrated, you will be fine. Excruciatingly uncomfortable, but fine.”

Great, so I was merely going be in agonizing discomfort. I began to wonder if I wouldn’t rather be dead.

“Enough chit-chat.” She turned toward Mistress Agonies. “Get him into the chair.”

“Right!” The mistress took hold of my wrist as the chamber door opened. “Let’s go, slave.”

She proceeded to pull me toward the chair on the left, and then turned me around. “Lower yourself slowly. I have to ensure the tube goes where it’s supposed to.”

With great trepidation, I did as I was told. When I was almost all the way down, I felt the tube being inserted through the opening near my crotch. I then sensed some manipulations, and it seemed like something had attached itself to the tip of my chastity cage. The next thing I felt was an object being pushed into my rectum. I squirmed from this violation and tried to raise up, but Mistress Agonies was quick to place her hands firmly on my shoulders.

“Sit down, slave.” She applied pressure and despite the awful feeling of anal penetration, my latex-covered butt cheeks soon landed on the seat.

I winced and groaned as I shifted my weight in an attempt to dampen the sensation. While this didn’t result in me gaining any relief, it did elicit several chuckles from Mistress Agonies.

“I know it’s a pain in the ass...” She giggled at her pun. “...but you’ll get used to it. Besides, that tube plays an important role in your hygiene. It flushes out your waste and administers your daily enemas.”

My eyes went wide. Daily enemas? Was she kidding?

There was a look of mock surprise on her face. “You mean you didn’t know about that? I thought they would have told you.”

I shook my head. At that point, I was beyond terrified at the notion that there was even more I might not know.

“Well, if you’ve never had one before then the first five or ten won’t be very pleasant. After that, I’m sure you won’t mind them too much.”

She stepped away from me and I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling. I wanted to take my mind off of all the horrible things these cruel women were telling me.

A few moments later, I noticed two separate places in the ceiling that appeared as if they could open. One was circular and located next to the chamber door, and the other was rectangular and situated directly above both chairs. Before I could analyze them further, I heard the sound of snapping fingers near my ear. I jerked my head down and saw the face of the wardress smirking at me.

“Did you see something interesting?” She glanced up briefly and then stared into my eyes. “Ah, you found the trap doors. Well, I suppose I can tell you what they’re for. The one above your chair is so that we can dump a bunch of well-worn stockings and pantyhose in here. I’m sure you’ll love the way they smell.”

I cringed while she let out a wicked laugh.

“And the other trap door is to allow someone to enter the chamber without letting any of the…delightful aroma escape. It’s an airlock system that can drop one person down in case there is a situation that we need to address. For instance, something may prevent you from breathing or a tube might get clogged. At that point we can send in a woman – wearing a gasmask, of course – and she can handle the issue. Once she’s done, she can reenter the airlock and be taken back up.”

This was yet another piece of information that was new to me. I shook my head in the realization that they had accounted for almost everything.

The wardress gave me a smirk and then spun around as Mistress Agonies returned to the chamber. “I see you brought the rest of his ensemble.”

“Indeed I did!” She handed one of her two items to the wardress. “You see this?” She showed me what looked like a broad black collar. “It goes around your neck. Chin up!”

I exhaled deeply and lifted my chin, knowing that resistance would simply make things worse for me. Working swiftly, she fitted the object around my neck and tightened it in the back. Before she even finished I could feel how restrictive it was. By the time she was done, I couldn’t raise or lower my head at all. The pressure on my neck was intense. It made breathing rather difficult, although I could manage with some effort.

“Aw, does that bother you?” She giggled at my obvious distress. “That’s too bad.” She patted my cheek. “But you’ll adjust to it sooner or later.”

As I continued taking ragged breaths, she moved each of my arms a bit and then strapped my wrists to the armrests.

“Now make your hands into fists.”

This wasn’t easy, but I was able to slowly curl my latex-covered fingers into my palms. The next thing I felt was something encasing my left hand. A minute later, I realized that it was bound into a permanent fist. This same process was then repeated with my right hand.

“There,” Mistress Agonies said as she stood up to gaze into my fearful eyes, “now those naughty hands of yours will behave.”

Even without this latest round of bondage, it wasn’t like I had any hope of escaping – given how securely I would be strapped in. However, the extreme snug fit of these latex balls around my hands made them hurt. It was clearly in their plans to keep subjecting me to anything that made my experience as unpleasant as possible.

With that in mind, Mistress Agonies let out a wicked chuckle as she patted my thigh. “Okay, I need you to raise your right foot and then point your toes down as far as you can.”

These instructions confused me, but I did my best to comply.

“Further!” She bent down and started pushing on the top of my foot. “Pretend you’re a ballerina trying to get up on your toes!”

I tried, but it was not enough for her. She grabbed my ankle with one hand and pressed down on my foot with the other, causing me to scream in agony. While continuing to hold my toes in a pointed position, she guided my latex-clad foot so that my calf and heel were against a hard surface. Moments later she let go of me as she simultaneously snapped something closed around my foot, ankle, and shin. I let out another shriek at the realization of what had been done.

Although I was unable to see it due to my collar, I was aware that everything below my mid-shin was now encased in a cramped, rigid boot – one which held my foot in a severe posture without the ability to flex it. The pain from being stuck like this was intense, but I couldn’t budge the unforgiving material.

Before I could wrap my head around how to deal with this, she had taken hold of my other foot and was forcing it into a similar situation. I made a feeble attempt at resistance, but her strength far exceeded mine. Soon my left foot was also locked into the same diabolical predicament.

As I started to cry out in anguish, I felt a stinging blow to my cheek. Through tear-filled eyes, I saw Mistress Agonies scowling at me.

“Quiet down, slave! Now!”

Not wanting to be smacked again, I stifled my sobs to muffled whimpers. With the numerous ways I was being tortured, this was a miraculous achievement.

“That’s better.” She smirked at me and rubbed her chin. “I suppose those steel ballet boots aren’t exactly fun for you. But you’ll have to make due. The front part doesn’t come off without the key, and the heel of each boot is welded to the floor.” She leaned toward me so that our noses almost touched. “Your Achilles tendons are going to be on fire for, well, a very long time.”

While she and the wardress laughed, tears streamed from my eyes. How could these women display such heartless cruelty?

The expression on the face of Mistress Agonies softened and she caressed my cheek with the back of her hand. “Don’t be sad. It could be a lot worse, you know. Your Coming of Age process is saving you from getting all itchy inside the latex. It’s also going to prevent you from ingrown nails.”

Her words offered scant consolation, but I took what I could get. And she was correct. The Coming of Age ceremony for a slave that was highlighted by the attachment of a chastity cage also featured the permanent depilation of every body hair – as well as the removal of all fingernails and toenails.

I sniffled as she dried my face. For a moment, it seemed like she was taking pity on me. Once she was done, however, she stepped back from me and accepted another item from the wardress. She held it up, and I could see what appeared to be a rubber mask.

“This is a latex hood. You wouldn’t want your head to miss out on the experience of being encased in rubber, would you?” She giggled at my look of dread. “But first, we have something for your mouth. Open up!”

With a sigh of resignation, I complied. The wardress pushed an object into my mouth. She took great care while fitting part of it over my top teeth and another part over my bottom teeth. I heard a clicking sound, and while that noise continued I felt my mouth being forced open wider. She was ratcheting my jaw apart, and she didn’t stop until I was sure it was on the verge of breaking. I groaned from yet another source of debilitating pain.

“There,” the wardress said with a smile, “now the feeding tube should attach perfectly.”

Mistress Agonies came forward and began to put the awful hood over my head, while I grunted through the intrusive device that held my lips in a gigantic ‘O’. It took several minutes and quite a bit of effort, but she finally pulled the hood all the way onto me. Aside from the uneasy feeling of extreme tightness, everything had gone dark. While I could still breathe, I was unable to see.

“How are you doing in there, slave?” The somewhat muted voice of the mistress was followed by the chuckling of both women. “At least you can still hear, although the material does reduce the sound level. Plus, you can breathe through your nose. That will be very important after I attach this tube to your mouth. It will provide nourishment, but unfortunately not air.”

Her latest pronouncement was followed by the sensation of something being screwed into my ring gag. Seconds later, the feeling stopped and – just as she had said – I could no longer take in air through my mouth.

“He looks ridiculous, doesn’t he?” Mistress Agonies said.

A short spell of female laughter was followed by the voice of the wardress. “Absolutely! And he’ll look even more absurd once you get all those straps in place.”

“No doubt!” After a few moments, there was pressure being applied to my collar. “I’ll be working from your neck down, slave. Just sit tight.”

They both laughed again at her little pun, which of course I didn’t find the least bit funny. It wasn’t like I could do anything to prevent myself from being further restrained. In fact, most of this wasn’t necessary. I was already immobile. Did they really need to fasten dozens of straps to my torso, my arms, and my legs – covering practically every part of my body? Wasn’t this overkill?

As I felt the first strap tighten around me, further restricting my already limited ability to move, a muffled moan escaped my lips. I heard a snicker from the wardress, who must have still been standing nearby to oversee my confinement.

I moaned once more as the next strap was overtightened by the sadistic Mistress Agonies. She began humming a happy tune, which reinforced my belief that she thoroughly enjoyed her work. Then again, I had never met a woman who didn’t achieve some level of satisfaction from giving pain to a deserving male. Heck, my own mother and my two sisters delighted in swatting my ass each time I was too slow or made a mistake – while I crawled around the house doing every task they could dream up.

That, however, was something I could only have fond recollections of. A garbled scream now escaped my lips as yet another strap cut deeply into me. I wondered how freaking constricting this bitch was told to make these things. More than likely, she simply got off on being exceedingly cruel. At that point, I shivered as I considered how many more of these damned things still remained. It felt like I was already being strangled, and only a few had been attached!

This horrendous process seemed to go on forever. When the buckles were fastened to my shins – just a hair above the top of each boot – I thought this ordeal was done. But I was wrong. The next thing I felt was the tightness of a wide strap being attached above my ears and over my eyes. Even though my head had perhaps a half a millimeter of turning ability remaining, that must have been too much for these spiteful women.

“All done!”

Something tapped the top of my head. I could only assume it was Mistress Agonies, who was undoubtedly proud of her handiwork.

“We hope you find your stay here to be a living hell, slave.” I knew this was the wardress speaking. “It’s what you deserve for your crimes, and it should dissuade you from acting foolishly ever again.” After a brief silence, she cleared her throat. “Oh yes, there’s one more thing.”

What felt like headphones were soon placed over my ears. I then heard a fuzzy, static sound emanating from them. It was the only noise I could detect. I had a sinking feeling that it was all I would be listening to for the next couple of months.

As the minutes passed, I started to sweat inside of my latex confinement. I knew the temperature had been raised in the chamber, just as they had promised. The intensity of my whole-body discomfort continued to rise, and I could not move a muscle to relieve any of it. My panic level was tremendous due to both the trauma of coping with what had already been done to me, and the sheer terror of what was to come.

And if there was anything I was sure of, it was that the insidious torment which had befallen me would be getting worse – perhaps much worse. As this thought shook me to my core, I began to detect a strong odor. I inhaled again, and the stench was obnoxious.

Oh no! The wretched, well-worn hosiery had been dropped in from above! And it was toxic!

I held my breath for as long as I could muster, but inevitably I needed to take in air again. When I did, the smell that entered my nostrils was so overpowering that it burned all the way to my lungs.

How in God’s name was I going to survive sixty days in the stink chamber?
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Active Member
Feb 22, 2011
Really well written. I love the idea of beinh forced to suffer sweaty stockings . And the cruelty of the women is fantastic


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Thank you morris and Sauur for the kind comments. I am glad you are enjoying what I have written so far. My schedule is quite busy, so I probably won't add another chapter until later this month or early February. But I definitely will continue this story.


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Chapter 2: The Stench of Isolation

Much has been said about time. It waits for no one. It marches on. It heals all wounds. It even flies when you’re having fun.

None of these, however, applied to my situation. Time was my sworn enemy, mocking me as each second seemed to drag on for hours. I swore I could hear its shrill laughter echoing in my brain. In fact, it sounded eerily similar to the cackling of the wardress and Mistress Agonies.

While another dose of heady female foot sweat invaded my nasal passages, I imagined my two torturers sitting in the chairs outside of the chamber. They were having a drink, chatting, and giggling at my misfortune. The whole idea of them receiving immense joy from my extreme suffering was the rotten cherry on top of my shit sundae.

Despite my gag, I tried to scream out in anger and frustration. I wanted to communicate my feelings to someone – anyone – who would listen. But could my cries be heard? And if so, would anything be done to help me?

Realizing that nobody was coming to my rescue, I ceased my futile attempts to make noise. The only option I had was to remain in my excruciating bondage and somehow deal with the most repulsive odor I ever had the displeasure to sniff.

My entire body shuddered from disgust as I once more breathed in a lungful of that rancid stench. It was unfathomable that such a vile scent could have been emitted by women. Females were beautiful, alluring, and smelled of sweet perfume. This was horrid, nauseating, and stunk worse than rotten cheese.

Each and every intake of air was a ghastly experience, which did not seem to abate as I continued inhaling the offensive aroma. I had anticipated that the longer I was exposed to it, the more I would be able to adapt to it. Unfortunately, the debilitating stink kept assaulting my senses and clouding my mind in the same despicable way.

Once in a while, a searing muscle or joint pain would temporarily shift my focus away from the appalling foot smell. It sometimes felt as though knives were stabbing my calves, ankles, and feet due to the ballet boots. My hands cramped and throbbed from the tape around them. My jaw ached as a result of the massive gag.

But the absolute worst was my intense feeling of claustrophobia. The extreme pressure of the tight latex suit coupled with the myriad of constricting leather straps made me believe I was being squeezed to death. This awful sensation caused my breath to quicken, which in turn made me sniff more of the dreadful stench.

It then dawned on me. I was caught in a vicious circle from which there was no escape. I was trapped in a brutal nightmare that I could not awaken from. This was indeed my living hell, just like the wardress had forewarned.

As my panic level skyrocketed, I started to hyperventilate. I was beyond desperate to draw in fresh air; however, I repeatedly choked on large quantities of stale and repugnant foot smog. It wasn’t long before I fainted from the devastating terror of my situation.

There was no way for me to know how many seconds or minutes I was unconscious, but when I awakened the awful series began again. All of my aches returned with a vengeance, and my fears escalated as I tried in vain to alleviate my agony. My breathing rate picked up, but the wretched odor didn’t allow me to properly fill my lungs. Of course, this resulted in making me pass out within moments.

This terrible cycle repeated itself numerous times. I wasn’t able to form a cohesive thought while stuck in a loop of anguish beyond imagination. It felt like I was suffocating over and over, without actually dying. Instead, I was being held at the brink of death while in a state of perpetual torment. Surely, Satan himself could not have concocted such diabolical cruelty!

At some point, the sensation of a liquid entering my throat pulled me out of this sequence. I concentrated on swallowing, both from thirst and from the distraction it provided. Once I finished consuming it, I realized that the flavor was salty and acrid. It was reminiscent of one I had experienced before, only this was stronger.

A memory flashed through my head from the previous summer. My oldest sister had returned home one evening, and was displeased with how I cleaned her bedroom. She ordered me to sit before her while she took off the old pair of sneakers she was wearing. As punishment for the poor job I had done, I was made to smell her stinky bare feet and lick the sweat from them.

The rotten taste of female foot sweat imprinted itself on my brain that day, and I knew it was exactly what I had just been forced to swallow. I fumed, wondering what type of disgusting sludge my evil persecutors would feed me during mealtime.

As the unpleasant essence faded from my tongue, I became aware that my breathing rate had slowed. Although my situation was still detestable, the unexpected diversion of drinking feet-flavored perspiration had managed to calm me down a little.

With my brain beginning to function again, I tried to mentally disengage from my physical torments. Since dwelling on them would only lead to a depraved spiral of paranoia, I summoned every ounce of willpower that I could – and managed to focus my mind on happier days.

I saw images of myself kneeling beside my mother, as she gently stroked my hair. She was always kind to me when I behaved well. I reminisced of my sisters taking turns feeding me by hand, while I sat before them. They were smiling as I ate every morsel then licked their fingers clean. I even thought of my aunt and her daughter. On the occasions I stayed overnight at their house, one of them would place a warm blanket over me as I lay on the floor so that I wouldn’t get chilly.

A feeling of semi-tranquility washed over me as my mind continued to scroll through the more enjoyable times in my life. There were the hugs from my neighbor whenever I mowed her lawn or washed her car. There were the small chocolate truffles that my one classmate would put in my mouth when I offered myself to her as a footrest for the entire school day. There were also the instances of my mistress in training complimenting me as I massaged her sore feet every evening.

My reverie was eventually interrupted when another substance entered my mouth. It had the consistency of a thick milkshake, but it tasted far more bitter. In fact, it was so sickening that I wanted to expel it immediately. However, I was powerless to stop the horrid glop from sliding across my taste buds and down my throat.

It then occurred to me that this was my dinner. And in all likelihood, the crap being forced into my gullet was the only thing I would be consuming for every one of my feedings. Damn those fucking bitches!

When the flow of nasty slime mercifully ended, it was followed by another stream of sweat-water. Although this fluid wasn’t delicious by any means, it was an improvement over the vile gruel. And it cleansed my palette of the abhorrent taste from my recent meal.

Once I drank the last drop, I let out a quiet sigh. It was hard to believe that I had such an appreciation for something so bad, simply because it was less terrible than everything else. But this was the mindset I needed to adopt in order to maintain some shred of sanity and prevent myself from sinking into a pit of depression.

Since there was nothing coming from the tube to provide a divergence, I knew I had to refocus my thoughts. I attempted to concentrate once more on past events that brought me joy, and this worked for a while. There were brief disruptions that would remind me of my circumstances, such as a larger inhale of the putrid aroma or a sudden sensation of agonizing discomfort. However, I was quickly able to return to my tiny oasis of contentment within my vast desert of suffering.

Eventually, I detected air gently blowing into my nostrils. It was accompanied by a piercing stench – one that made the previous odor seem mild by comparison. I took another breath, and it was equally revolting. A shiver of fright ran through my body as I sniffed again. Holy shit, I had to get away from this or it could be the end of me!

My mind went blank as I shifted into survival mode. I tried to thrash, but I didn’t have near enough strength to affect my bindings. I moaned into my gag, but it certainly wasn’t loud enough for anyone to perceive. I was trapped in a prison of atrocious stink, the likes of which I could have never conceived.

As I went on smelling the most offensive odor in all of history, I became lightheaded. This caused me to stop my feeble struggling, and begin to accept my fate. I truly believed that I was going to die from the overwhelming foot fumes. It seemed my time had come.

I inhaled one more caustic lungful of stench, and then I faded out.


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Thank you for the wonderful comment, morris474. I do plan to keep the story going, but probably won't have the next chapter written until sometime in April.
Apr 11, 2004
What an original concept, I am sure I have never read anything quite like it and the detail you use OneAuthor really has the reader living every second of the nightmare being endured.

The sheer helplessness of the situation is most dire and I cannot really see any means of escape which leaves me wondering whether this is actually what this guy will have to endure literally all summer long?

Surely this is the most wicked of all foot related tortures with every detail of his ordeal thought through and executed down to the smallest possible detail.

Given his refreshment is foot sweat I am sure whatever the sludge was he has to eat would be even worse. These women are truly not to be messed with.

I look forward to seeing how the story develops and just what these torturers have in store for their victim...


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Thanks for the terrific reply, wildyone. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. The next update should be posted within a few weeks.


Active Member
Feb 22, 2011
Oneauthor looking forward to the next chapter. I am working on the next chapter of section 12 and have includd an homage paragraph to this story. Cant wait for your next instalment


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Thanks for your support, the3leaf. And I really appreciate the homage you did in Section 12 of your story, morris. Here is the next installment.


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Chapter 3: The Voices of Evil

“Slave! Wake up!”

The loud voice startled me from unconsciousness. Who was it? Where was it coming from? And how was I able to detect it from within a soundproof chamber?

Before I could ponder this any further, the reality of my circumstances hit me like a freight train. I felt the severe cramps in my muscles, the strict tightness against my skin, and worst of all: the unholy smell entering my nostrils and filling my lungs.

As I trembled from severe discomfort, I heard a giggle.

“Good, now that I know you’re listening, I will explain a few things.”

I recognized the voice as that of Mistress Agonies, but I remained confused about how I could hear her.

“First, those headphones that fill your ears with white noise are also linked to a microphone outside of your chamber. Every so often it will be used by me or another woman. Sometimes we will give you information that may be of interest to you, but other times we will simply be taunting the hell out of you. I’m thinking you’ll receive a lot more of the latter than the former.”

Naturally, these bitches were going to add to my torment. My muffled groan was accompanied by her laughter.

“Alright...second, you will receive two feedings per day and an amount of fluid that is necessary to prevent dehydration. You are being closely monitored to ensure that while you won’t feel any real pleasure, you also won’t perish or suffer permanent damage. Oh, and in case you haven’t figured it out, let me tell you what you are eating and drinking.”

While I already knew some of what I was consuming, her wicked chuckle made me dread finding out the rest.

“Your beverage is female foot sweat, and your meals are what I would call a foot smoothie. It’s made up of a flavorless vitamin and protein powder, mixed with ground-up toenail clippings, toe jam, dead skin shavings, and sweat...all from the feet of female students or teachers at the university.” She laughed again. “Delicious, isn’t it?”

Utterly revolting was more like it.

“Finally, you may have noticed the intoxicating aroma became stronger an hour ago. That’s because, in addition to the one hundred pairs of well-worn stockings, you are slowly being exposed to incredibly raunchy women’s shoes. There are three hundred pairs along the lower walls of the chamber, each sealed in their own little compartment. And every day, five of them will have their panels opened so that the shoe stench will be added to your divine sniffing experience.”

Damn, this was going to get worse by the day! I could barely handle it now. What would it be like in a week? Or a month?

“Let me say two more things regarding the lovely female footwear. They are quite literally the rattiest and most rotten smelling ones we could find. And to guarantee that you receive the full effect, there are small fans blowing the noxious air directly up to your face. It’s the same as if your nose was buried deep within each shoe, except you get ten of them at once. Well, until tomorrow...when that number doubles!”

She cackled as I fell into deeper despair. Every word coming out of her mouth was increasing my anxiety. I hoped at that point she was done, and she would leave me alone.

“Anyway, there’s more I could tell you...but I think you’ve heard enough for now. Plus, I wouldn’t want to ruin all the surprises. I’m sure you’ll appreciate...none of them!”

After a few more seconds of cruel laughter, the white noise returned. I had never been so relieved to stop hearing a human voice in my entire life. Of course, she had left me with the notion there was additional suffering to come – the nature of which was left to my dark and terror-filled imagination. I was realizing fast that it was better to know the evil that was coming than to envision something far more frightening.

The combination of my neurotic thoughts with my excruciating bondage and such offensive odors were causing me to spiral toward a certain panic attack. I needed to reign in the paranoia or I would surely pass out. But try as I might, it wasn’t long before I fainted once more.

“Wakey wakey, slavy boy!”

The shrill sound that startled me from my comatose state was followed by the feeling of liquid against the back of throat. It was another dose of my only beverage – women’s foot sweat. The taste was sour, although it didn’t seem quite as offensive as before. I shuddered at the notion that I might be getting accustomed to it.

Once the flow of my drink stopped, the voice spoke again. “I bet that tasted wonderful, right?” There was a giggle, before it continued. “And I’m sure knowing that the perspiration from my feet was mixed in made you appreciate it all the more.”

Laughter then rang in my ears as I tried to determine who was antagonizing me. The female voice seemed a bit familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Was it a schoolmate? A neighbor? Someone else?

“I mean, the least I could do was make a contribution to your suffering. After all, you saw me naked in the dressing room. You even tried to take a picture of me, naughty boy.”

That’s when I realized that it was a young woman named Becky from one of my classes. She had never liked me much to begin with, so this was no doubt her way of getting revenge against me.

“You know, I was going to throw my oldest pair of flats away...along with my totally beat-up sneakers. But something told me not to. Now, I’m soooo glad I kept them! You’re already enjoying the fabulous scent from my flats. And by fabulous, I mean, like, horribly disgusting.”

She giggled again, then cleared her throat.

“Hopefully, I’ll get to hear your tortured screams when you take the first whiff of my evil sneakers. Those things are so freakin’ nasty, they could kill someone.” She chuckled. “However, you probably won’t die. In fact, you better not. It’s much more fun to know you’re alive...but in extreme agony. Don’t you agree?”

Her maniacal cackling followed, but mercifully faded out a few seconds later. I then began to wonder whether there was actually a microphone inside the chamber. This would have meant they were listening to my muffled grunts and cries. For a moment, it was almost comforting to know that my distress could be heard. But I soon became angry when I realized this was yet one more reason for them to mock me.

Those demonesses were well aware of how I would react to the horrors I was being forced to bear. And I was sure that my painful moans were music to their ears.

I then decided not to give them this satisfaction. Although it wasn’t going to be easy, I could silence myself. I just needed to be strong.

With that in mind, I began to convert my rage into willpower. This was a battle I was determined to win. It didn’t matter what they did to me. I would remain quiet, even if every fiber of my being wanted to shriek in misery.

As I continued to tell myself that I could persevere in at least this one task, I inhaled deeply and an involuntary shiver went through me. Damn, I had almost forgotten how grotesque it smelled in here. This was going to be more difficult than I imagined.

Rather than allow the awful stench to control me, I intensified my focus on remaining steadfast. I concentrated on taking slow, shallow breaths. And within moments, the odor seemed less offensive. I no longer felt complete revulsion. Instead, I felt my confidence starting to grow.

Before long, my self-assurance climbed enough for me to believe I would endure. I still detected the toxic aroma, but it had much less of an impact on my senses. The aches throughout my body were still noticeable; however, they weren’t causing me near the amount of discomfort as they had been.

I would be victorious. I knew it. Nothing they could throw at me would cause me to utter a peep.

That’s when my next feeding occurred, and I groaned as the horrid sludge went down my throat. I cursed myself, knowing they had defeated me again.

My mood didn’t improve when I then heard the annoying voice of my university training mistress.

“Hey there, slave. It sounds like you’re enjoying your dinner.” Her piercing laugh made me cringe. “Well, maybe ‘enjoying’ isn’t the right way to put it. More like ‘choking on’, since it’s all disgusting foot crap.”

I tried to scream, but I was sure it came out garbled with all of the glop I was swallowing. Of course, she just giggled in response.

“So, the real reason I showed up was actually to give you some news. You know how I told you last month that I might stick around campus this summer if I received that internship? Well, I found out today that I got it. This means I won’t be going home, but instead I can visit you every night you’re in here. Won’t that be awesome?”

She chuckled as I continued ingesting my putrid meal.

“We’ll have lots of fun. You’ll see. Oh can’t.” She snickered. “But you can still smell and taste. Although, you probably wish you couldn’t.” She let out another laugh. “I’m guessing it’s worse than when I make you sniff and lick my feet. And I know you don’t like that.”

There was a brief silence, then I heard her clear her throat.

“I bet you’d give anything to be in my room...worshiping my feet...instead of being stuck in this hellhole. But you couldn’t follow the rules, could you? No, you had to act like a total asshole. And for that, you’re paying the price. Trust me when I say that you’ll experience suffering far beyond anyone’s darkest nightmares!”

A frightening chill came over me, and I waited for her to say more. Instead, the familiar white noise returned.

Soon afterward, the flow of foot slime abated. At least that was one less thing for me to deal with. However, I felt little consolation. Not only had my thoughts become disturbing again after her final statement, but the atrocious stink and intolerable aches were now more prominent to me than ever before.

These ruthless women were going to ensure my complete and total misery – for every single moment of my time in this sinister chamber. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop them.
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Likes: gogo42170


Active Member
Feb 22, 2011
Fantastic new chapter . Loved that the ladirs can taunt him via the microphone and listen to his suffering.
The food and drink ideas are superb.
More please
Likes: OneAuthor


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Thank you so much for your great comments, gogo42170 and morris474. It's great to know you are enjoying the story. I plan to add another chapter next month, as my work schedule and other writings allow.


New Member
Jan 29, 2011
Loving this story. Really imaginative, inventively cruel and marvellously descriptive. Looking forward to the next 'surprises'. Like your victim, I'm going nowhere.
Likes: OneAuthor


Active Member
Jun 10, 2016
Thanks for the kind feedback, plum69. The next chapter has been delayed, but I should have it done before the end of June.