They tell your PT

It had been a few days since the last encounter with Eleanor and Emily. The humiliation they’d inflicted on you still lingered in the back of your mind, but for now, you had a semblance of normalcy. Today was like any other—an early morning workout session with your personal trainer, Amy.

Amy was a **** to be reckoned with, a fit, towering woman who stood taller than you, around 6'1", with a build sculpted from years of training. She had long, dirty blonde hair often tied into a neat ponytail and an air of confidence that commanded attention. You had always admired her from afar—her physical strength and authority. There was something about her that made you feel inferior in all the right ways.

You entered the gym, your mind focused on the session ahead. As usual, Amy was there, already warming up. She wore tight, black leggings that clung to her muscular legs and a sleeveless top that showed off her toned arms. On her feet, a pair of well-worn sneakers, paired with thick white ankle socks that were slightly crumpled around her ankles. You couldn’t help but glance down at her feet—a habit that you tried to suppress, but one that always betrayed your desires.

"You're late," Amy said with a smirk, her voice carrying a slight edge.

"Only by a few minutes," you replied, trying to keep your cool. You had gotten used to her strict demeanor, but something about today felt different. There was a sharpness in her tone, a confidence that made your stomach twist slightly.

"Excuses. Let’s get started. You’re going to need to work twice as hard today."

As the session began, Amy pushed you harder than usual. Every command she gave was firmer, more authoritative. She no longer encouraged you with supportive words but instead barked orders with a biting tone.

"Come on, Tom, that’s pathetic! I know you can lift more than that!" she snapped as you struggled to complete a set of deadlifts. Her voice was laced with disdain, but there was something else—a teasing edge, as if she enjoyed watching you falter.

Her dominance wasn’t just in her words but in her movements. She moved around you, adjusting your form with a forceful grip, her presence overwhelming as she bent down beside you. The proximity made you hyper-aware of her every movement, and you couldn't stop your eyes from flicking down to her sneakers and those white socks, the faint smell of sweat and exertion hanging in the air.

Amy’s behavior was shifting. She had always been strict, but now there was a bratty, mocking edge. She would "accidentally" brush against you with her leg, press her foot closer to you during stretches, and leave her shoes and socks in places you couldn’t ignore. You were unsure what to make of it. It was almost as if she knew. But how could she?

As the session continued, Amy began to toy with you more openly. She would smirk when you struggled and call you out when you were weak. You could feel the shift in power dynamics, and it both frustrated and excited you in ways you didn’t fully understand.

"I bet even my socks could lift more than you right now," she teased at one point, stripping off her shoes and wiggling her sock-clad toes in your direction.

You froze for a moment, the comment striking at the heart of your desires. Amy noticed your reaction, her eyes gleaming with a knowing glint.

"Something wrong?" she asked innocently, though the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her.

"N-no," you stammered, trying to focus back on your workout, but your mind was clouded. You tried to shake the thought, but Amy kept teasing you. She stretched casually, her long legs extended in front of you, her feet right in your line of sight. She flexed her feet absentmindedly, making sure you noticed how the fabric of her socks stretched across her toes.

Suddenly, she dropped a dumbbell with a heavy thud. "Oops. Guess you’ll have to pick that up," she said with a mischievous grin, making no effort to help.

As you bent down to retrieve it, you caught the scent of her socks again, stronger now, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Amy was watching you, her eyes never leaving your form as you obediently lifted the weight.

"You’re slower than usual today. Do you need a break, or do you just like wasting my time?" she asked, her tone dripping with condescension.

You shook your head, trying to brush off her words, but the tension was building. You couldn’t ignore it any longer—the way she was treating you was pushing all your buttons. You hated how much you liked it.

Then, finally, as you finished the last of your exercises, exhausted and drenched in sweat, Amy casually slipped off her socks and tossed them at you.

"Here," she said with a smirk. "Hold onto those for me, would you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as the damp, worn socks landed in your hands. You looked up at her, bewildered, but before you could speak, she stepped closer, towering over you, her bare feet planted firmly on the ground.

"Do you know why I’m doing this, Tom?" she asked, her voice low and mocking.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond.

She leaned down, her face inches from yours, and whispered, "Because I know everything."

Your eyes widened in shock. She knew. Eleanor and Emily must have told her everything about your desires, your fetishes, your love of humiliation. And now Amy was using it against you.

"I’ve known for a while now," she continued, straightening up. "Your wife and your little mistress told me all about it. How you like being humiliated. How you crave it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as the truth sank in. Amy knew your secret, and she had been toying with you the entire time.

"And you know what? It’s fun watching you squirm," she said, crossing her arms, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "You like this, don’t you? You like being put in your place by someone stronger than you."

You didn’t know how to respond. The truth was, she was right. A part of you did enjoy it. The teasing, the commands, the subtle humiliation—it all fed into the desires you had tried to suppress.

"From now on," Amy said, stepping back and placing one foot on the bench, "things are going to be different between us. I’m in charge here, and you’re going to do exactly what I say. No more pretending."

She wiggled her toes in front of you, her bare foot inches from your face. "You’re going to follow my every command. And if you don’t…" She trailed off, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

You were speechless, caught in a whirlwind of humiliation and excitement. You didn’t know how far Amy was going to take this, but you knew one thing—you were powerless to stop her