Chapter 3: For Her Own Good

Fiona’s diary:

I had a wonderful night’s sleep cuddling my delightful teddy girl. I woke up and started rubbing my sole on her, imagining her grovelling at my feet. It was so easy to see her kneeling or sitting on the floor, with a look of adoration in her face and her hands rubbing my feet as they glistened with sweat after a victorious match ... I couldn’t help running my hand over her, playing with my helpless toy. I called on her, and she didn’t reply, but I suspected she was awake anyway. That’s when I called her my little Mandy, as I touched and fondled her, and I felt her wince. She clearly didn’t like that name, and it was too bad, because I loved it and she was going to end up accepting it.

I called on her again and she finally responded, shyly asking me to let her go. We got up and we made and had breakfast together. She ate like a bird. No wonder she’s so tiny, though she hadn’t been running the day before. Later, we made plans: a morning inside, playing games and such, and afternoon at the mall.

At first, Amanda wanted to go out. I’d noticed her looking at the woods with interest through the living room bay windows. I felt a little like a babysitter having to keep her charge pent up inside, but the weather was really miserable, and I wasn’t going to indulge the girl at the expense of getting drenched. She would probably not really enjoy it either, just like a child begging to go out in the rain will soon enough be begging to come back in. I reminded her this shouldn’t be the last time she came to visit me, though, and her face lit up as if Christmas had come early. I couldn’t believe how insecure she was: I was showing her my kindest, softest self, too, and she still couldn’t believe I liked her.

I had a plan on how to get to her. This wasn’t the first time I pursued and seduced a mousy nerd. I didn’t have to make them want me, they did already; and it was simple enough to make them feel inferior and dependent on me, undeserving of my company. After all, there was some truth to that: I was confident, strong, decisive, everything they weren’t; I commanded and they obeyed. Things got harder when it came to making them into my meek pets, rather than girlfriends, but that was also possible with a bit of work. Making them voluntarily serve my feet, though ... I’d never managed it yet, but I had the feeling Amanda would be the one. Sure, I had had this feeling before, but she seemed a lot more submissive to begin with, and I thought she might already have an interest in my feet, weird as that was to believe.

Though she liked me and deferred to me, I wasn’t sure she respected me in the sense of taking me seriously. I had got to Amanda the insecure, lonely girl already, but for the best results I had to get to Amanda the clever and capable nerd, too. That’s why I chose to start with something she recognised as her territory, a game of chess, to show her I wasn’t just a dumb pretty face. It worked really well. I played chess online a lot when I had nothing better to do, and I knew I was a reasonably strong player. I didn’t need to win, just to show my mettle, and I did. She was good, though; in my heart I suspected I would win easily, but instead I narrowly lost. It was all worth it to see the surprise on Amanda’s face as the game progressed: from the time I proposed it to the time it ended she had to rethink the kind of person I was. The stereotype of the clueless popular athletic girl only made it easier and more satisfying.

Of course, after establishing my strength in her territory, I wanted to see how she handled in mine. If she was good, it would make the chase more fun and interesting, and if she wasn’t, it would make it shorter. Points for refusing Truth or Dare, though: quite a cliche, and a very risky game to play for anyone with obvious weaknesses. Would You Rather at least gave one a chance to avoid the hardest choice, but in Truth or Dare the surprise element gets a lot worse.

She hadn’t played this game before and wasn’t sure what sorts of choices to give, so she agreed to let me start. It placed her at a slight disadvantage, but she feared making an awkward mistake more. She asked me to go easy on her, and since she was polite about it, and rather sensitive, I started out rather mild, with a choice between dancing for me or showing me her breasts. I called them tits to make it more embarrassing.

I was curious how long it would take her to work out what this game was about. At the shallowest level, it’s just a chance to make fun of people placed in awkward or embarrassing circumstances. However, the sort of choices they make can be very telling, and it’s a great opportunity to know how people behave close to their limits. With a bit of care, the choices someone offers can be just as revealing, and I had the habit of playing it that way, asking subtle and very personal questions through the tasks I proposed. This time I was asking Amanda if she’d rather take an active role, and show her strength as a dancer, or a passive role, opting for weakness, and let herself be my eye candy. Either worked for my purposes, but I liked getting my prediction right: she was so uncomfortable about her dancing that she’d rather sit there and expose herself for me while I gently made fun of her.

I also got to see Amanda’s body as she showed me her breasts, which were small and firm. Her clothing choices were not inspired, but there was nothing wrong with her shape. If she dressed better, which I was going to encourage, and she managed to gain some confidence and look more lively, she would perhaps never be the prettiest or most beautiful girl in her class, but certainly cute and attractive, at least for my taste, which was what mattered. I enjoyed teasing her and seeing her nipples, already big, become larger and taut. Either she was getting cold, or at least a part of her liked showing herself to me. Whether it was due to the humiliation, the naughty exposure itself, being under my orders, or the fact it was me looking at her in particular, I couldn’t tell yet, but I hoped it was all four.

The ten minutes passed, and Amanda looked relieved when she could put on her bra and do herself up again, though she seemed a bit nervous about what choices to give me. That’s why I enjoyed playing the game the way I did: I was always curious about what made others tick, so I just had to present choices that would answer those questions.

After a little thought, Amanda gave me an incredible gift. I wondered if she knew what she was doing. She made me choose between wearing some underwear on my head and look silly, or giving her a kiss. This after she already knew I liked girls! Who challenges a lesbian to kiss a girl? I wasn’t going to complain, though: it was the perfect opportunity to rock her world, and I wasn’t going to waste it. I was going to make it sweet, and long, and memorable; I was going to make her pine for it and remember it as the best kiss of her life.

I made my way towards her, strutting, and told her to close her eyes. I wanted her to focus on the sensations I would soon be giving her to the exclusion of everything else. Not being able to see me would make her feel even more vulnerable and open. She was just such a little precious thing I wanted to squeeze her and take a bite out of her. I restrained myself and teased her with a chaste little kiss on her cheek, which made her whine and beg me for a real one. I giggled and told her not to be so impatient, as I laid my lips all around hers, ever so close but never quite touching them. I could feel her body reacting to me, getting more and more excited as she awaited the contact of my lips on hers. After I got her nicely warmed up, I teased her lips with the lightest brush from mine, and I delighted in hearing her moan, opening herself up to me.

I couldn’t help giggling. There she was, with her eyes closed, yearning for my touch, desperate for me to ravage her, the image of a perfect prey, wanting to be vanquished. I raised my hand and possessively stroke her cheek as she yielded herself to me. Finally I aggressively kissed her lips, forcing them open and licking them, letting my tongue play on the threshold of her mouth, as I stroked her silky hair and felt her shiver under my hand.

She was so overcome she simply surrendered to my touch, unable to resist or assert herself. I began sliding my other hand over her body, and at last let my tongue enter her mouth, touching hers. She responded, eager and pliable, making little noises of pleasure as she rub her head against my hand. She looked so enticing, with her eyes closed and an expression of rapture, her cheeks blushing from overwhelming excitement. Her breath was ragged, interrupted with sighs, little whines and pauses as the intensity of the kiss defeated her, leaving her paralysed. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I wondered if it would always be like that, or if it might be her first kiss.

Seeing how the experience had affected her, I softly and slowly withdrew from her. If I had broken it off all of a sudden, I think she may have cried. Even then, she looked like she had been to another world, sitting there with a vacant smile on her face and a slight hint of tears in her eyes, gradually catching her breath and coming back to earth.

She opened her eyes and saw me contemplating her. She must have seen my look of pleased surprised as she averted her gaze and blushed. Goodness, I wanted to just take her there and then, but the dance had barely begun. Realising how much this had meant to her, and how innocent and fragile she truly was, made me remember my place and my responsibility: whatever people might say, I took good care of my toys. I would make sure she felt safe and cherished as I made her mine. I would defend her and teach her, control her and train her, until she learned her own incalculable worth, and she stood upright and proud, strong and confident, looking at the world in the eye and yielding to no-one but me. Was I falling for her?

My campaign of seduction was far from over, though Amanda looked more than ready. I had to make sure she was absolutely determined to be with me at any price. I joked how I had broken little Mandy, and this time I could see the effects of that name playing on her face and body. It was like someone turned off the lights. From being utterly willing, open and relaxed, she went blank, hugged herself, shivered and got ready to flee. It was such a dramatic change, there had to be a big story behind it.

I hadn’t realised quite how bad things had been for her, but now I knew, I would remember to be very gentle and go slow. She was utterly adorable and lovely, and so eager to please me it almost hurt. Someone must have taken advantage of her weakness and fucked her up. One day I’d find out who and they’d fucking pay. Amanda was just a sweetie. It took no more than a suggestion to get her to yield. Being mean to her was like kicking a baby ... It made me so angry...

I regretted immensely to see her close herself down like that, but I needed to probe and understand her, and it was the only way I could help her in the end, too. Self-justification? Perhaps. Half of me wished I hadn’t said anything, and the other half was plotting how to get her to tell me all about it. She wouldn’t do so of her own accord. Not in as short a time as we had.

What could I do? I apologised to her, and promised myself whoever had messed with my Mandy that way was going to regret it.

I took her in my arms. I had always felt a strong urge to protect those I considered mine, but it was so much stronger with my little Mandy, perhaps because she seemed so fragile, so much on the edge. True, I was toying with her, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care about her. I always supported my friends, but even people I thought beneath me could count on me for some help if they showed me respect. Amanda had been a very good girl, and she was quickly becoming special to me. As it was, I would make sure to watch her back. Hanging around with my friends, she’d probably need it.

I felt at a loss about what to do to cheer her up, other than holding her and warming her, until I remembered how excited she got when she saw my car. She didn’t have one and I was sure she’d enjoy the chance to try driving mine. After a bit of cajoling, she agreed to let me teach her how it worked. I took it out of the garage, since I wasn’t willing to risk starting her up with more than she could handle, but later I let her take the driver’s seat on our private roads.

I despaired a little about her at first: she was clumsy and slow to react. I realised it was nerves, though, and I distracted her by telling her about the car’s technical specs and chattering about how old it was, how often it needed oil changes and so on. She got focused enough on her task and my words that she forgot all about her nerves and clumsiness, and suddenly she turned into a quick learner. Of course she was still a novice, but a promising one. As I went quiet she realised what was happening and noticed she was having fun and doing well. I could see the joy in her face, and I smiled widely, which seemed to cheer her up even more.

I went through a few manoeuvres with her, but eventually I started getting a bit bored. What she needed then was practice. I was pleased she was paying enough attention to me to notice it, and she suggested going back home. I was willing to let her practise a bit more, but she demurred and I drove the car back into the garage. I tentatively suggested resuming the game, and she was visibly embarrassed about needing me to take care of her and cheer her up when she broke down. I decided to let her give me choices that time, and to be gentle on the next round when it was my turn.

Unfortunately, she gave me two choices I despised: acting like her pet dog for the turn, or eating very spicy food. Her pet? Did she even know what I was doing to her? I would have her begging and grovelling to me for that! The other choice didn’t play to my strengths, either: I was not used to eating that sort of stuff. At least, as an athlete, I could deal with pain. She made me eat enough of those peppers to make me cry, though she could have gone a lot further under the terms of the game.

If I had thought things through even for a moment I would have acted differently, but the annoyance of her thinking she could make me into her pet, even temporarily as a game, and the impatience from before, mixed together into a very bad choice. I demanded she tell me why the name Mandy upset her like that, or to be tickled for ten minutes. From her reaction, she must have been really ticklish, so both choices had bite. I realised the very moment I told her the choices that I had overstepped, but I refused to admit it to Amanda, worried it would make me look weak and lenient. I could see the fear in her face, and I liked that she was trembling at my word. She compounded my annoyance by making what was the obviously evasive choice instead of yielding and opening herself up to me. It would even be for her own good to tell me.

I wanted to hear her say she was ticklish. I wanted her to accept her submission outloud. I even made her tell me where she was the most sensitive, and I could see that she was telling the truth. It didn’t occur to her to lie, or to keep quiet. She was mine, even if she didn’t know it yet.

I gave her clear instructions on how to lie so I could tickle her armpits. Since I wanted her to become my devoted foot girl, I forced my smelly socked feet on her face, wondering if she would dare to say anything or fight back. After all, that wasn’t a part of the choice I had given her. She just let me play with her as I wanted, allowing me to press my toes on her nose and cheeks, making her breathe through them. She was genuinely extremely ticklish, which forced her to breathe very fast and deeply, and I could see her humiliation at losing control and being made to sniff my toes while I kept tormenting her and laughing. I loved feeling the air refreshing my socked toes, knowing it went straight into her nose. After a while, the timer I set on the phone let me know five minutes had passed, and I changed positions to tickle her feet. She looked really tired and embarrassed, and kept begging me to stop. It was getting me incredibly excited to have forced her into this and hearing her abase herself for a non-existent chance of mercy, acknowledging her vulnerability and my superiority.

Her begging and pleading became more and more childish as I continued, as if she were regressing to being a kid half her age. It all culminated with her admitting that she couldn’t hold her wee if I kept tickling her. I may have been tempted to continue anyway, enjoying her complete loss of control, but I didn’t want to have to deal with the mess involved and I thought it might be too much for her to bear. I gave her the choice of going to the toilet in exchange for doubling the length of her tickling session, which she refused, but it didn’t take her long to change her mind when I resumed her torment. Of course, by then it was just so much fun to see how low she would grovel that I raised the length by fifteen minutes instead. Helpless to do anything else, she accepted it and as soon as I released her she ran away to the toilet as I laughed.